Two years ago, Nate, Katie, Sarah and I spent 4 days in Chicago, doing a lot of walking, and getting to know that majestic city. Since then we've been talking about going to New York, and last weekend--pretty much at the last minute--, that talk became reality. Katie and Rebekah pulled into Nate and Sarah's driveway at 4:45am Friday, we piled our bags into the white minivan, and the five of us headed off into the thin morning light. Off to New York City!
The trip really didn't come together for sure until a couple days earlier, when we worked out our housing arrangements and I got Monday off of work (I'm back on shifts, which respect neither holiday nor weekend). Rebekah had been vascillating, but Mr. Calano said she oughta go, and so we were five. That strengthened the "Calano Girl" contingent, which changed the dynamics of the trip from how Chicago had been. And as far as differences go, having a car and driving gave a different feel to our being in the city, and our accomodations were very different on this trip.
Our time in New York was actually shaped a lot by our housing arrangement. Nate and I stayed at the house of a family from the Sovereign Grace church in Brooklyn, and the girls stayed with their Aunt Janet at her apartment, only 10 blocks away. The logistics of getting to and from Manhattan shaped each day prominently, and gave our time in the city less of an "abiding" feel. That was fine, though, 'cause not having to pay for a hotel was a remarkable blessing, and we got to know the city in a different way. Instead of only seeing the impersonal megapolis of Manhattan's soaring buildings, we walked the streets and spent time in the comfortable brownstone houses and thick brick apartments that coat Brooklyn's earth so densely with humanity. In fact, some of the best memories that stick out in my mind are from there.
Friday we walked around Times Square and the surrounding area after arriving and finally finding parking at about 1pm. Saturday we bustled our way through Chinatown and Little Italy in the morning and early afternoon, finishing off with a little Frisbee in Central Park. The later afternoon and evening were then taken up with getting back to our separate residences in Brooklyn, freshening up, getting back together, and driving to some of the Calanos' relatives in the area. We went to Aunt Jo's apartment first for a brief call, and then hurried post-haste to Aunt Rosemary's, where a large contingent of semi-distant, highly-Italian Calano relatives were gathered, eager to see Tommy's girls and Sarah's new husband. I had heard about their Uncle Rocky, food food food, kissing on the cheek when greeting, and other aspects of the side of the family that Mr. Calano came from, and I was quite curious to see if they were exaggerated, or what.
Well, they were all true. And I had a blast! The little Brooklyn house was packed with folks, and they were all friendly, and I got to have several nice conversations and a lot of great food. The New York City urban life is quite different from my experience, and nothing could have shown me it as well as that evening.
The other "induplicable" touch of real NYC life was the apartment where the girls stayed. Their aunt Janet is a lawyer in Manhattan, and her apartment is the entire 15th floor of a building. Nate and I got to stay there Sunday night since Janet was out and we had the place to ourselves. It was a really nice place, and every window greeted you with an airy view of the city. Sunday night I spent an hour just sitting in the window well of the pool table room, soaking in the sea of lights stretching out from my perch, and listening to the breathing of the metropolis. Something about cities gets to me really deep, and that night and that apartment let me take it in like nothing else could have.
Nate and I got to see a more yuppie aspect of NYC life via the Roses, the family who very kindly hosted us Friday and Saturday nights. They were a young family with two young kids, in a small but comfortable Brooklyn apartment. Rick worked right off of Times Square, and they hadn't owned a car since moving to the city. The Sovereign Grace church (City Church) is within walking distance of their house, and so are most of its members. Rick helps on the sound team Sunday mornings, so I came early with him and helped set it up and run it for the service.
It wasn't a *New York* experience per se (other than the 3-race diversity of the 4-person worship team), but it was one of my highlights from the trip. Like I said when I ran sound for Chad and Abbey's grad party a few months ago, I am rarely happier than when I'm behind the wheel of a sound system. Ooh ooh - and the bagels! Rick had mentioned the bagels they have every morning before the service, and asked if we'd had New York bagels yet. His hearty recommendation had me kind of excited, and my hopes were not disappointed when I finally had a chance go go back and grab one before the service started. Lest you think "New York bagels" is just a platitude, let me assure you: they were de-SHILL-ous! The fundamental texture and basic flavor way outclassed even the asiago cheese or cinnamon sugar of a dense, lifeless Panera bagel.
[Don't get me wrong: I still highly enjoy Panera. I'm not complaining, and I'm not ungrateful for what we have here, and neither should you be. Being made to enjoy less something over which you have no control is poison. I am solely commenting on the specialness of the New York trip.] So yeah - Sunday morning was cool, and touching the healthy, solid ground of a Sovereign Grace church was a great anchor point for the trip.
As far as what we saw in Manhattan during the days, it was mostly the classic New York sights that don't require a large block of time or money to see. We didn't go up any buildings, didn't go out to Ellis Island or the Stat of Lib, didn't see a Broadway show, and didn't go to any museums or music venues. We
did spend time and money browsing & shopping in Chinatown and Little Italy (Littaly, as I like to call it), walking around Central Park and Times Square, riding the Metro, seeing Grand Central Station, and getting food from such places as Pellegrino's, a gyro stand, Jamba Juice (Katie's favorite!), and Famous Famiglia Pizzeria. We walked the Brooklyn Bridge (absolutely stunning. And mind-blowing when you think that they built it just a few years after the Civil War!), rode the Staten Island Ferry, and walked past dresses that were worth more than our combined monthly salaries on Madison Avenue. We didn't learn about the city in a museum or catch the big hits on a bus tour, but we saw its life in progress at eye-level:
- Two, no three, no four generator trucks humming at the curb with rivers of power cables snaking off to a giant tent dominating a block-sized park. "Pardon the inconvenience as we continue to make New York a fashion capital of the world" read the signs. Thanksgiving day fashion show, I believe.
- Peeking over the fence into a roadwork zone, where bundles of pipes and conduits took up about as much volume as actual dirt below the pavement.
- Orange and green caught my eye in the random block where this sushi place was supposed to be. A shorter building was tucked inbetween 500-foot giants, and the entire top area was done up in striking orange, green and white. "Permanent Indian Consulate to the United States" was engraved on a plaque in the 20-foot bronze doors that loomed above me like a mysterious gate from a Kipling story.
- Dozens and dozens and dozens and dozens of people strewn over the sunny grass in Central Park, and walkers, runners and bikers pouring along the path as we sat on a bench and ate our toasted bagels and Jamba Juice smoothies for breakfast.
Speaking of food, here's one of my favorite stories from the trip: We subwayed back to Brooklyn late Sunday afternoon, transferred Nate and me to Janet's apartement and rested our feet for awhile, and then headed out to the bright lights of Times Square for a late dinner. We'd gotten a recommendation for a pizza joint there, but the guy was literally closing the door as we walked up. Nate asked if there was another good place that would still be open, and he pointed us to "Famous Famiglia Pizzeria" a couple blocks away. Down the street and around the corner we saw the sign, and found one of those distinctive, "non-polished" joints that seems to promise delicious food from every grody corner and chipped tabletop. It only took about 10 minutes for our 18" pepperoni to arrive steaming upon our table, and from the first bite, I knew it was good. GOOOD. Like, as good as Aurelio's in Chicago, which I have never given an equal in the 24 years that I've been going there (no overstatement). The firm cheese, the just-right thin crust, and the perfect amount of sauce that squeezed out of every bite - not too sweet, not to acidic... just perfect. 'Twas amazing.
Whellnow, on the way back Monday evening, we pulled off the turnpike at the Sideling Hill plaza as the light was fading from the Pennsylvania sky. As we pulled into our spot, I noticed the sign for the restaurants: Famiglia Pizzeria! So I got all gee-hawed up and ordered me a slice of pepperoni, happy to know that this place was really good, and I had a good dinner coming.
Bite.
Squish.
Glop.
Bleah.
The cheese was like slime, the sauce choked the pizza with tasteless tomato acid, and the whole piece sagged and slumped in my hand like a fine upstanding lad who'd had his backbone pulled out.
Here's the thing though: Yes, my dinner that night was a disappointment. But it crystallized in my mind that we had been somewhere
special that night in Times Square. Oh, the turnpike one might have had the same picture of Famiglia guys tossing dough in the Macy's Day Parade hanging on its wall, but the food behind the counter was just a sad, mediocre placeholder flying under the same name. "Famous Famiglia" was started in the heart of New York City by the four Kolaj brothers, who arrived there with their mother in 1970 [
ref]. Not only were we at probably one of the first locations they opened, but just a few miles away from where we sat, colossal ship yards were drawing in goods from
all over the world, piping them through New York's labyrinthian conduits and out to the rest of the United States. Where could you find fresher Italian goods than right there? New York has the authenticity of true value: it's not just a tourist trap - it really is one of the shipping capitals of this hemisphere. It really was history's epicenter of immigration from everywhere across the ocean. And it really is the place to put something if you're only gonna make one of it.
We were at a special place during our trip, and from gazing at the sprawl from the window of the apartment to staring at the grafitti flashing by in the subway tunnels, from the shrimp scampi in Little Italy to the ferris wheel inside the Times Square Toys 'R' Us, from the ~noo ywok~ accent in the little Brooklyn apartment to the men playing guitar and hammered dulcimer and selling their CD in Central Park, New York City wasn't an imitation, it was the real thing. And I liked that!
Next on the list: Go there with Steve Hoffman. :-) :-)
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