Advertisement
Published: November 11th 2009
November 10th 2009 There once was a girl from Nantucket... Yes folks, I did it. I made the ferry connection. For those who have forgotten my last blog (many moons ago now) I have repeatedly failed to catch ferries on my trip across the States. Whilst it all made for entertaining reading for you guys, it wasn't much fun for me. So I was utterly thrilled to find myself in Hyannisport two hours before the ferry arrived into the terminal, let alone left for the delightful island of Nantucket, just off the South coast of Cape Cod. I was mightly torn between a day trip to Martha's Vineyard and to Nantucket. Eventually the fact that I could possibly meet Helen's aunt (who I eventually couldn't find!) swayed my vote and landed me on a rather unsteady catamaran bouncing across the seas...
Nantucket itself, like so much of Cape Cod, was already closing for the season. Shops, bars, restaurants, art galleries all shut up, with signs adorning the windows thanking patrons for their seasonal business and already looking forward to seeing them next May. Where exactly do all these people go all winter? I wonder if they have businesses in
winter resorts? Or maybe commerce in this part of the world is sufficiently profitable that the owners only work through the summer? Maybe I should have asked someone? Anyhoos, it was a cold, blustery day and I was far more interested in sequestering myself away in a cute little restaurant and eating too much lunch than discussing economics with the locals. Not that unsurprising really!
With an hour left before boarding the ferry back to the mainland, I went for a little wander. Undoubtedly Nantucket is a beautiful town with quaint cobbled stones, scrumptious eateries, traditional New England houses - all shuttered up for winter, of course - but what do you do here for more than a few hours? After a week in the slow lane, living the quiet Cape Cod life, I was ready for the big city. Fortunate considering the last two weeks of my trip were to be spent in two of America's greatest cities: Boston and New York.
Reliving history or not, as the case may be As you may remember, I passed through Boston a few weeks ago. But having only spent a short few hours there, I felt it was my
duty to go back and really check the city out. The plan for my first day was to drive north from the city and check out Salem, home of the infamous 17th century witch hunts. Luckily, my dear friend Ivana mentioned there is nothing to see there and that it would be worth combining Salem with two other delightful towns, Manchester and Marblehead. For once, I followed her advice :-) Needless to say, Manchester and Marblehead were pretty upmarket New England towns with their fair share of tempting little boutiques (I really don't EVER need to buy anything EVER again), delectable restaurants and pubs with inviting open fireplaces and local brews on tap.
Salem, on the other hand, is a dive. A trashy, uninteresting haunt, even on the Saturday before Halloween which is the town's busiest, most interesting weekend of the year. Sadly, having been robbed blind for parking, I figured I had to wile away at least three hours there. I stopped for coffee and read the guidebook (30 minutes). I walked up the main street with their 'international market' (6 minutes). I amused myself in some of the psychic shops (25 minutes). I stood out in the
rain waiting for a Halloween parade which never materialised due to the bad weather (15 minutes). I had fun in the witches museum learning all about the witchcraft trials (30 minutes). I went to the psychic fayre and had my tarot cards read (30 minutes). Having been told that my work would come to focus on children, I would leave my job in March 2011, I will never be rich but at least I won't have any financial worries, and that there are many men in my future, I decided it was time to leave town, even though my three hours weren't up yet. If you REALLY love the supernatural (Melanie...), Salem is worth the pilgrimage. Otherwise, save yourself the time and effort.
I woke the next day to perfect, sunny fall weather and launched into an exceedingly long day of exploring Boston. To loosely direct my sightseeing I started by following the famed Freedom Trail which leads you past a handful of the numerous historical sites the city boasts. Other than a couple of graveyards, the Old City Hall and the building where the Boston Tea Party was planned, though, I can't recall much. I must admit to
have becoming a reluctant tourist. After four months of being dedicated to soaking up the history, culture, politics, people - learning as much as I can about this vast country - my brain shut down. Somewhat embarrassingly I can recount with far greater accuracy, excitement and enthusiasm all the gorgeous clothes stores I visited that day and all the pretty dresses I tried on 😊 ... Maybe that is the point of being on holiday for so long? At some point you just want to go back to normal life? Which, for me, generally seems to revolve around shopping and eating... Tis a life I love!
Leaving Boston, I headed for Cambridge, home of Harvard university, where I bought a cup of coffee which tasted like tomato (to-
mah-to) soup. I never found the university. I think it's all a hoax. I drove and walked around for such a long time and still, no university. And considering it was 10am on a Monday morning there were surprisingly few students. I went to the mall instead 😊 From the mall I took an absurdly long time to drive directly west across Massachusetts. It really is a stunning state. Town after town,
village after village, my breath was repeatedly taken away by the scenery. Those leaves, man, they are just so darned gorgeous. Way back in Newport, RI, I was chatting with a guy from Northern Ireland who shared how he was becoming rapidly bored with the trees. Admittedly there are a lot of them, and the freeways in this part of the country are all lined with a wall of vegetation which can, indeed, become tedious. But not at this time of year. I'm sorry, but old Lian was wrong! I don't think I could ever tire of turning a corner to be greeted with an explosion of gold, tangerine and (my personal favourite) raspberry foliage filling the horizon.
That night, I pitched my tent (metaphorically speaking) in Stockbridge, MA. It was a random choice. But it was too late and dark to continue all the way into New York, and - being a Berkshire lass myself - I fancied a night in the Berkshires, the rolling hills of western Massachusetts. I rocked up at the historic Red Lion Hotel and amused the staff and all the guests having pre-dinner cocktails in the lounge by proceeding to traipse through the
lobby with all my belongings. Bag after bag after box after bag. For the very last time, I sorted through all my worldly possessions, rid myself of items such as an extraordinarily large supply of q-tips (cottons buds) which appear only to be sold in packets of 14,000 (even I can't get through that many q-tips in five months) and an obscure collection of stones which I have randomly collected along the way. Why do I pick these things up?! I then fainted with the shock of finally having reduced my cargo to just two (very heavy) bags. I wonder whether LSE would convert my Masters into a graduate degree in Packing and Shipping rather than Gender and Social Policy. Far more useful, I say, and I'd definitely get top marks 😊
The end of the road As I was driving into New York, it suddenly dawned on me that this was the end of my roadtrip. Today, I would hand back the keys to my little racer-boy rental car, Clive/Juanita. Then it would be public transport for me. What a peculiar concept. These thoughts were pushed to the back of my mind, though, as I closed in on
New York City and Pamela directed me to my bag drop-off point: a rather tall office building somewhere around 6th Avenue and 42nd Street. Right in the middle of the city. Having survived L.A., Seattle, D.C. and Boston, I thought I would be prepared for New York City traffic. However, what the aforementioned cities lack are vicious pedestrians and demented taxi drivers. I am SOOOOO glad I didn't start driving here. I think I may have given up before I had even started. As it happens, I didn't kill anyone, or even maim them. I may have run a red light, but that's a minor offence compared with fatally injuring a fellow human being.
Before we go any further, let me say, I LOVE NEW YORK. It's like London but taller. It's busy, noisy, dirty, and did I mention it's tall? If nothing else this summer, I have learnt one thing about myself: I am fascinated by skyscrapers. As testament to my new found passion, I even went to the skyscraper museum! But let's back up a little and start at the beginning...
I dropped my bags off on the corner of 6th Avenue and, I think, 42nd
Street. Of course, I didn't just leave them on the sidewalk. I left them in the safe hands of Mr Ben Reichner, my godparents' great-nephew. Auntie Boobie made me promise to look Ben up when I got to New York. I tend to keep my promises. As with most people I have met in the past 5 months, Ben invited me to stay with him. It was a toss-up between staying in a hostel, sharing a room with a dozen people and a bathroom with two dozen people, or hanging out with a near-native New Yorker. What would you have done? Okay, so I know how much you all appreciate communal living with large groups of practical strangers, but I chose the option of sharing with just Ben and his two cats...
Despite having transformed into the anti-tourist, it was hard to shun some of the world's iconic sightseeing destinations. In fact, it would have been rude to do so. How could I possibly avoid Times Square? The UN headquarters? The Statue of Liberty? The Brooklyn Bridge? The Empire State Building? Wall Street? Ground Zero? Of course, I couldn't. And as it happens, I was quickly infused with the
New York buzz and energy and thoroughly enjoyed pottering around the City, happening upon famous names and places. It was awesome! For his part, Ben kept his promise to show me the road less tourist-travelled...which largely equated to taking me out drinking and eating. As Unkin Don had sent prior warning that I have penchant for beer, for our first outing Ben grudgingly introduced me to the aptly named 'House of Brews'. The ambience and selection of the cold stuff being as poor as it was, I believe I ended up back in the 'House' another three times that week...
The following day found us, at my request, tramping around the Lower East Side in the pouring rain in search of the Tenement Museum. T'was surprisingly interesting to learn about the plight of 19th century immigrants. The museum consists of a guided tour of a series of apartments which were inhabited at one time or another by various immigrant families. Our group comprised a large French family (who, speaking barely a word of English, really couldn't have understood what was being said), an English couple, an American with an overseas visitor and another English family - a woman and
her two young daughters. To her older sister's obvious embarrassment, the younger daughter (probably aged 5) kept piping up with rather insightful questions. I would have been proud had she been my daughter. Her crowning moment came, however, when listening to the guide explain how the different communities moved through the neighbourhood, with German families relocating as more Jews arrived into the area. In her cute little English accent she loudly quizzed the guide,
'Did the Germans not like the Jews?'. The group momentarily held their breath, and a fleeting look of horror flashed across her mother's face, but the guide recovered well and with spectacular speed, replying 'Well, some of the German families were also Jewish'. Our little English girl seemed content with that answer. And then we all chuckled. Or at least all of those who understood English did! Having indulged our intellectual side for a few short hours, Ben and I found ourselves sheltering in a French 'tabak' drinking more beer. Hmmm. Not exactly the marathon training most professional athletes would recommend, but far more enjoyable! And it's not like the marathon was the following day...but still three and a bit days away...
After three days
of camping out with the cats, Ben and a couple of his friends who were visiting from out of town, I moved into the terribly swanky Crowne Plaza hotel on Times Square. Not that Ben hadn't been an impeccable host, but I had been required to book the hotel through the sports event agency which arranged my marathon entry. In the 36 hours before the marathon, I tried to take things easy. This involved watching Hamlet (with a surprisingly, almost disappointingly, good performance from Jude Law in the lead role); bowing out of dinner and drinking thereafter; wandering all throughout the Financial District; contemplating love, life, the world and cubism whilst viewing a superb Kandinsky exhibition at the Guggenheim; and standing in the rain watching the Halloween parade through Greenwich Village. All in all, a quiet time!
Yes, we must not forget it was Halloween the night before the marathon. Whilst the rest of the country was covered with wholesome pumpkins, New York City turned into something akin to a peep show. Never in my life have I seen so many woman take the opportunity to reveal as much flesh as possible. How many scantily-clad nurses, schoolgirls, police officers,
Little Red Riding Hoods and Little Bo Peeps does one city need? This was definitely Halloween for grown-ups. Needless to say, the guys enjoyed the show 😊
The New York marathon. I'm going to skip over this bit. It was 26.2 miles long, as all marathons are. I hadn't trained and was tired before I even started. But the weather was perfect. And I ended up running 45 minutes faster than at the London marathon back in April. I can't really explain how it happened. So I shall stop there. All that matters is that my time made me incredibly happy and has convinced me to do another marathon next year 😊
The two days subsequent to the marathon, my friend Anjohn - who had also run - and I played limping tourists: scaling the Empire State building (awesome views at night minus the very long queues), eating brunch at a 'singing diner', viewing Lady Liberty at her best on a perfectly clear day, visiting Ellis Island (more stories about immigrants - do you know only 2% of all the people who came through Ellis Island were sent back home? I always thought it would be more), surviving
a frightfully authentic lunch in Chinatown, catching a show on Broadway (starring the incredible Bonnie Langford in
Chicago) and having a very late-night dinner at Planet Hollywood in Times Square. Maybe being a tourist isn't all that bad after all?!
My last night in New York - and indeed of my trip - lived up to my requests. The only sad thing is that it ended. I really wished it could have gone on forever. Or maybe I just didn't want to come home to the reality of flat-hunting and a desk job? Anjohn, Ben and I firstly went in search of a 'secret' prohibition-era speakeasy bar, which accordingly serves beer bottles in paper bags and all other drinks in teacups. We found it. And the sign on the door which said it was closed. We ended up next door, in Nurse Betty's. A fine establishment which I would frequent regularly were it not 3,000 miles from where I live! A quick stop for sushi preceded (or possibly followed...I can't remember now) a very short stint at a roof garden lounge which Anjohn and I had spotted from the Empire State building the night before. Being outside, 30 floors
up in a windy city in November, is not really advisable. Although Santa Claus-style robes were available for guests to wrap themselves in, it was still too cold to do anything but knock back a coffee (or a mojito in my case) and then get back in the elevator and seek shelter. In spring and summer, though, 230 Fifth Avenue is definitely worth a look-in. A few more drinks closer to home and it was finally time to turn in. The perfect 'grand finale'. Thanks guys...
And that, as they say, was that Last Wednesday morning I packed my bags, hopped in a cab and suddenly found myself at La Guardia airport. Once I had checked in my luggage and almost passed out with the relief that there were no excess baggage charges, I realised how miserable I was to be leaving. Which can only mean I had an amazing time, right? But I think you've already figured that much out.
It's been quite a journey. If you've come this far with me, I thank you. Aunties Margaret and Theresa win joint first prize for having made the most comments on my blog. Alex is a close second.
I realise I should write a concluding sentence, but it is beyond me. My mind is playing tricks on me at the moment - I feel like I never went away and when I consider everything I have seen and done in the past five months, I'm blown away. Most of all, however, it seems impossible that it's all over. Digesting, and reflecting on, the trip is going to take some time, so this isn't the final blog... not by a long shot!
For now, though, I shall close by saying I've had a ball. It's been awesome!
Advertisement
Tot: 0.182s; Tpl: 0.016s; cc: 9; qc: 51; dbt: 0.0496s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb
Alanna
non-member comment
Great travel blog!
Well done Jen, I enjoyed your blog - photos were fantastic! Alanna