May 13 - 15, 2-23
When I planned this trip, I looked at some of the Amtrak routes that I'd never been on. Lakeshore Limited was said to be one of the most picturesque. Running from NYC to Chicago, it heads north out of the city along the Hudson River, and then meanders west along the Great Lakes. It looked good to me, so I modified my route to include it. New York City was never a destination, but rather a place to change trains, but it was simply too big to ignore. And I had never been there in all my six decades plus of life.
I ordered a glossy ez-fold map of the city, and searched out must-go places. Friends and family gave helpful suggestions on favorite museums, eateries and landmarks. I found everything on my map, but I set aside any thoughts of getting around in the city on my own, and decided to tackle that when I needed to go somewhere beyond the reach of my tired feet.
Walking back from the Empire State Building, I saw a row of bicycle cabs along the curb. The owners of them called out to anyone passing. I smiled and shook my head, but then realized how tired my feet were. I asked how they charged and was told $5 per minute. Since this was probably my only time in NYC, I decided to go for it, and climbed in one, after showing him my hotel address.
As we wove through the traffic I attempted to make conversation with him over his blasting music. I asked about his job, his life, recommendations for good places to eat and so on. I had a hard time understanding his answers so asked where his accent was from. When he didn't get that, I asked what country he was from. He said, "I Turk. I from Turkey". We both laughed, and that was pretty much the end of conversation. I guess he had memorized the initial spiel well enough that I hadn't noticed he didn't speak much English. It was fun anyway, and I got a tour of the neighborhood.
On my first morning in NYC, I wanted to go further, so needed to take the subway. I put the app on my phone and set up easy payment so I wouldn't have to keep track of how much I had left on my pass. I felt somewhat confident, as I'd now used the DC Metro on several occasions. Studying the subway map however, I found that the NYC system was much more complex. The DC Metro has 5 distinctly colored lines, each with a single train and two terminus. There are 8 transfer points between lines.
The NYC subway has 9 different colored lines, each with multiple trains and innumerable transfer points. Additionally, some of the trains were express, stopping only at certain stations. The two stations closest to my hotel were 34 Penn St, on the red line, and Harold square, with the orange and yellow lines. They were both local and express stops. Studying the map now that I'm home and have used some of the routes, it makes so much more sense. I have a hankering to go back, just to find random destinations and use more of the system.
But while there in the big city, it was still somewhat bewildering to me. Getting on the correct train to begin with was the first challenge. Before tapping my credit card on the entry stile, I would know that this station served the orange and yellow lines. They were well marked.
However, those lines had vastly different destinations depending on the letter of the train, and which direction you took it. I headed down this stairs, as I planned to take the "R" or "W" train, heading to south Manhattan. "N" and "Q" would head in different directions, but both terminate far away at Coney Island in south Brooklyn. Train "W" terminated at South Ferry, which is as far as I wanted to go. "R" also stopped at South Ferry, but continues, and ends in the SW corner of Brooklyn.
I wish I could say I had it all figured out by the time the "R" train screeched to a halt on the platform, but my cool, confident exterior belied the heart-pounding trepidation inside of me. As it was usually impossible to hear the conductor's garbled announcements, I felt more confident when I ended up on a newer train that had an electronic reader board showing the next stop. I calmed myself with the thought that all the trains run in both directions, and if I made a mistake, I could always get off and find the train running in the other direction.
On my second evening, after several emotional hours in the 9/11 Museum, I walked down Greenwich Street to a food truck for my dinner.
At $15 for a gyro and bottle of water, it was probably the most expensive gyro I've ever eaten, but meticulously prepared, and very tasty. He grilled each piece of meat before carefully placing it in the warmed pita bread.
Just across the street was a tiny "park". Actually just a slice of cement with some little tables and chairs. Along one side was a painted mural of girls from around the world. Beyond the muraled wall, the One World Trade Center spire reached up into the cloud-dappled blue sky. Formerly called The Freedom Tower, at 1,776 feet it is the tallest building in the US. The 1,776 was intentional as it reflects the year the Declaration of Independence was signed.
On my last morning in the city I stashed my bags in the luggage room and set out for Central Park. The MTA app suggested that I walk to the Penn station and take the red line uptown. I did so. Trains 1,2 and 3 all would go to Central Park so I just got on the first one that came into the station.
A couple on the train were clearly tourists, and also going to the park. When they stood up to disembark at 72nd Street, many stations before the Central Park stop, I asked them why. They said that way you would enter the park at the middle instead of the top. That seemed logical, so I got off also.
Sometimes, in an effort not to get lost, I take pictures of entry and exit points. Here, the 72nd Street "Uptown & The Bronx" station stands out among the tall buildings.
To return to my hotel later, I would need to enter the "Downtown & Brooklyn" station, which was across the street.
