Federal Hall National Memorial, Wall Street, New York City

The very first capitol building of the United States of America was here on this site, on Wall Street in lower Manhattan. The building was called Federal Hall and was constructed in 1700. It was where President George Washington was inaugurated as the first President of the United States. Unfortunately, the building was demolished in 1812. The new one was built in 1842, as the New York Customs House and sub-treasury building. It’s now the Federal Hall National Memorial. It’s free to enter and view the spectacular architecture and enjoy the many displays of New York’s financial district.

In 1920, a terrorist bomb detonated in front of Federal Hall killed 38 people and wounded 143. The perpetrator was Read more

A Review of the Soho Grand Hotel, Broadway, New York, NY

After a hectic day pounding the pavements in Manhattan, I prefer to sink into a quiet, cushy hotel room. I don’t want to hear the ruckus of neighboring customers, or room service bell boys scuffing their metal trays down the hall, or the buzzing whirr of the elevators. The Soho Grand Hotel on 310 West Broadway was perfect. It was quiet. It was cushy.

The Soho is located in Manhattan’s trendiest neighborhood, intermingling with various row houses, studio lofts and apartments nearby. The hotel caters to the young professional with its straightlined chic appeal. The hotel is decorated in good taste, in neutral or natural colors with sparse whispers of utilitarianism about it.

I was greeted at the door by a very young lady who handled my check-in well. The young people at the front desk seemed a little distracted, or perhaps they were so accustomed to guests who knew what to do and where to go that they overlooked my hesitation and need for guidance. The girl handed me a small package of tea soap and a brochure about room service and nodded at me that I could go now. A young doorman intervened and escorted me to the elevator and my room. All very perfunctory.

The room is small. I had a room on the 7th floor, with a poor view. But hey- this is New York– few views are going to be rose gardens.

The bed was incredibly cozy– I took that photo the next morning after I’d enjoyed a sound slumber in it. The pillows were feather, and the down comforter was clean and fresh. There’s a television and DVD player, but I couldn’t get it to work. Maybe I had to pay for it? Alas, I wasn’t interested in watching movies– the Soho Grand has free Internet service, so I wired up my netbook and was online quickly.

Despite its smallness, the room was very quiet. I hear nothing of other guests, not even hallway doors opening. It was luscious.

The bathrooms are very small but clean. Read more

A Visit to the Empire State Building

While in Manhattan a few weeks ago, I made a visit to the Empire State Building. I plunked down the $20 to get up to the 86th floor Observation Deck. It’s a self-guided tour, but multitudes of jacketed escorts direct the lines of people (and lines and lines and lines of them) through corridors and up elevators.

The Empire State Building was constructed (completed) in 1931. It was the tallest building in the world, until the World Trade Center was built in 1972. It’s designed in the glamorous Art Deco style.

I was surprised at the crowds in the building. It was Wednesday morning, and yet there were hundreds of people waiting to get up to the Observation Deck. Most of the time was spent waiting in line to get up there.

Midway through the journey of walking down long hallways and taking elevators up, we had to have our bags scanned through an x-ray machine and we had to pass through a metal detector. It was chaotic. I haven’t been to an airline since 9/11, but the experience must be as or more confusing and noisy. Yuk.

A large family ahead of me caused a small ruckus with the guards. Read more

Trip To New York City: On the Train

Beautiful Union Station in Utica, NY

I pulled away from the plaster dust from our home renovation, and took a short business trip to Manhattan. I hadn’t been to the city in 22 years, since I was a young drama student in the 1980s. And New York is just as fabulous and exciting as it was then. This is the first essay in my short series Trip to New York City. It was my first time taking the train (Amtrak, from Union Station in Utica), too. A marvelous experience! I can’t wait to do it again. This is my travelogue written while on the journey…

Going to the Big City

Travel by train is, generally, pleasant. The speed is moderate, the rails bumpy in a jostling, cradle-like motion, the scenery very rural (at least on the Northeast corridor). Cell phone service is spotty and I found no wireless capability at all. These ingredients make for an unusually contemplative and sleepy experience which is strange and foreign to our interconnected and frenzied modern lifestyle. I miss my Internet connection; but then again, I do not miss it. I’m happy soaking in the environment and spending the next four hours in quiet solitude. I suddenly realize that I forgot to pack my book, and I do sorely miss that.

The train I’m on must have been constructed in the 1980s or thereabouts. It’s pleasant, but slightly older, like a favorite old coat that is just starting to look a little outdated and worn from much use. I’m pleased to see tiny buttons above my head that activate small reading lights. I’m traveling in the daytime and most likely will not need lights, but it’s comforting to know they are there if I want them. An electrical outlet is nestled on a strip below the window, and again a bubble of gratitude rises up: I can power up my small netbook, if I desire.

Railroads are usually built just outside the town or city limits, situated between a thick corridor of trees to shield residents from the clatter and appearance of train traffic. The scenery outside the windows is usually desolate; running alongside the rails are numerous swamps and other algae-laden river depositories, and rusty iron rail yards, and cornfield-rimmed highways, and the occasional decrepit farmhouse sitting forlornly on a hill. In the zenith of summer, the scenery is one of constant green.

A speedy glimpse of a typical Greek Revival home.

Yet every once in a while, the dense populations of trees open up to reveal an impressive Gothic or Greek Revival mansion, perched on a rocky pedestal. The house looks like a yellow-frosted cake on a hilly green dais, bedecked with sugary ornaments of white or pink architectural icing. Upstate New York experienced massive growth in the 1830s to the 1850s, and the multitudes of glorious Greek Revival farmhouses testify to its prosperity. Unfortunately, New York’s heyday has come and gone; and as if in chorus, the graying Greek Revivals of the cornfields reflect the decay. Still on occasion, a restored old grand dame rises up from New York’s green and rocky peaks. That, in its stubborn resistance to defeat, is testament of the endurance and perseverance of Upstate New Yorkers amongst a climate of high taxation and government meddling.

My route leads me eastward toward New York’s capital city. This route runs alongside the mighty Mohawk River (of Drums Along the Mohawk fame). Upstate has experienced a deluge of rain so far this summer (7 inches for the month of June 2010), so the Mohawk has raised its muddy head, and laps ominously close at the edges of its banks. I did notice on the news (before abandoning my precious Internet capability back home) a flood watch in effect for today.

The vista suddenly opens up as we enter the city of Schenectady, New York. There is nothing terribly notable about Schenectady for non-New Yorkers, other than the curious pronunciation (Sken-NECK-tah-dee) and its proximity to Albany. Still, the scenery has finally changed from leafy walls of green to scrubbed brick buildings and industrial ruins. Now that we have re-entered civilization, cells phones start buzzing and children’s voices rise with questions. Only twenty-odd people fill my train car, but within sit some of the noisiest twenty-odd people with whom I’ve ever traveled.

The Mohawk River

A group of young families in the back talk very loudly, laughing and discussing the glories of the latest music and improved technology of Huggies versus Pampers. A young Chinese traveler, situated in the seat before me, sniffles and coughs loudly with an aggravatingly dry, constant cough. His elderly father, who I assume he escorts, sits very quietly beside him. Perhaps the young man is taking his father to see relatives in New York City. How sweet of him. The young man is meticulously watchful of the older; when we boarded the train and I somehow managed to come between them in the line, the young man was constantly looking back to the older. And when the train lurched to a brief stop to pick up passengers, the older man tottered to the restrooms; all the while, the younger looked back, waiting for his elder’s return.

Across the aisle from me, an older woman sits quietly. Her hand is always over her mouth or under her chin. She spends much time looking out her window; sometimes her eyelids droop closed. A loud clatter from the train’s wheels, or a shout from the two loudly bickering children in the back, cause her eyes to pop open again. Her face is extremely wrinkled, giving her the appearance of being much older than she probably is. She wears the uniform of a busy, upper-middle income woman: a dressy, purple sweatshirt with a white polo shirt collar, sweatpants, crisp white sneakers, and a Macy’s shopping bag. Our eyes meet briefly. I smile; she turns away. She’s going to her sister’s in New York City, who is ill and needs a nursemaid (I heard her confide such to the conductor as he punched our tickets). She must have a lot on her mind. (Later, she asks me to escort her out of the train into Penn Station, because she tells me: “You look like you know where you are going.”)

We stop in Albany. I know it is Albany because we have crossed over the behemoth—a wide-mouthed, very deep, and agate blue river. It’s the Hudson. We say our goodbyes to the brown and tempestuous Mohawk, and turn our attentions to its sparkly and livelier sister, Henry Hudson’s namesake. I settle in for some good sight-seeing, as I am unfamiliar with this more prosperous portion of the state.

…to be continued…

Manhattanhenge

Oh very funny! I saw this post at the Flickr Blog today:

noticed that photos of Manhattanhenge are starting to flow in from last weekend. What’s Manhattanhenge?

>> a biannual occurrence in which the setting sun aligns with the east-west streets of Manhattan’s main street grid. The term is derived from Stonehenge, at which the sun aligns with the stones on the solstices. ~Wikipedia

There are a few photos, but one guy did a very cool time-lapse video.

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