Monday, June 04, 2007

Leaving New York (Never Easy)

(My apologies to REM for stealing their lyrics.)

The other day, I had to drive down to “The Gold Coast.” For those of you unfamiliar with Connecticut, this is the southwestern coastal area of the state, which borders on the Long Island Sound. It stretches from Greenwich up to Fairfield (pretending Bridgeport, which borders on Fairfield, a pretty rough city hit hard in the late eighties and early nineties, doesn’t exist). People have their 2nd (or maybe even 3rd) multi-million dollar homes along The Gold Coast, the first being a penthouse view of Central Park. This in no way guarantees they have an ounce of taste. If you’re having trouble picturing such a place, just think “Stepford Wives,” whose fictional town was based on Westport, CT.

Westport is one of the worst. Imagine “normal-sized” four-or-five-bedroom homes on lots that are probably about a quarter of an acre in size. Imagine these somewhat-modest-sized houses set back from the road on pretty, tree-lined streets. Now imagine people buying these homes, tearing them down, and building Buckingham Palaces on them, leaving all of a 2-sq.-in. piece of lawn on which their children can play, and you’ll get the idea. (Is anyone else out there like me? Do you see these McPalaces and think, “Ohmigod! All that house to take care of!” And “Merry Maids” visiting once a week does not an Upstairs, Downstairs make.)

Anyway, this little excursion made me think, “I’m not gonna miss Connecticut so much after all. Seeing all the “Mr.-and-Ms. Importants,” power suits on and briefcases in hands, flipping open their cell phones to impart the life-and-death news of “I just got off the train,” as they raced from the commuter train to their parked cars, reinforced this realization. But then I remembered: they were all coming from New York. When Bob was in school, and we had the apartment in New York, I sometimes used to do that, too (“reverse commute” it’s called when you go from New York to Connecticut to work). And then, despite the fact I knew so many of these obnoxious people have their other multi-million dollar home in New York, my thought was, “I’m SO going to miss New York!” (Of course, a couple of days later, when I was driving in Midtown Manhattan -- something I enjoy doing about as much as most people enjoy un-anaesthetized leg amputations -- I wasn’t thinking this quite as enthusiastically, but I was still thinking it.)

Because, in New York, you don’t have to hang out with these obnoxious people. In fact, a few weeks back, I was coming up from the Subway station at 125th St. and Broadway, and there was a young couple on the escalator behind me – obviously tourists – and the woman said to the man, “You know, everyone always says New York is such an unfriendly city, but I don’t think it’s unfriendly at all. Everyone’s been so nice.” Because I’m too shy, I didn’t, but I was sorely tempted to turn around and say, “That’s because all the unfriendly people moved out to Connecticut during the Reagan years and left all the nice people behind.” I actually remember saying the exact same thing about New York the first time I visited in 1985, and my feelings have only been confirmed for me during the twenty years I’ve become more and more familiar with the grand city. I'm glad to hear other visitors still draw the same conclusion.

You can do all kinds of things in New York and not once run into anyone wearing a power suit. You and a group of friends can decide you’re going to spend a Saturday evening walking across The Brooklyn Bridge and get ice cream on the other side before walking back. You can take a book up to The Cloisters and Fort Tryon Park and spend a lazy Sunday afternoon among all those fabulous imported ruins and artifacts, with a million interesting tourists, whom you can choose to either engage or ignore, depending on your preference. On a warm summer day, you can visit the dog run at Riverside Park, petting everything from Miniature Dobermans to Wolf Hounds, then go across the path to buy a burger and a beer and watch the “volleyballers” and sunbathers at “Hudson Beach,” the sandy block on the banks of the Hudson River.

You can see just about any play your heart desires right now (if you have the money). Ditto movies on the big screen. If you’re in the mood for art, you’ve got the Met. Modern art? You’ve got the MOMA. Science? Try the Museum of Natural History. Want to ride a roller coaster? Go down to Coney Island (although, unfortunately, not for long. Coney Island is soon to be no more, and I’m sure that area will become a haven for power suits. The roller coaster will still be there, though, and the suits will be barely noticeable from its great heights).

The libraries are probably some of the best in the country. And despite the rise and fall of the super bookstores, you can still find some wonderful little independent ones tucked away on side streets, near cafes (or, if you’re really lucky, The Hungarian Pastry Shop, which is conveniently located right near Labyrinth Books), where you can buy your books and then go get some tea or coffee (or fabulous pastries). And, of course, there’s The Strand, rivaled only by Portland, OR’s Powells (actually, Powells is probably better, but The Strand is a very close second).

And don’t let everyone fool you. Yes, NYC can be very, very expensive. But you can do some absolutely wonderful things for next-to-nothing. Hang out in Washington Square Park for a day, for instance, and buy your lunch from vendors. Walk up and down 5th Avenue at Christmas (leaving all your cash and credit cards at home), just enjoying the shop windows, and don’t forget to stop to admire the tree and the ice skaters at Rockefeller Center. Go down to Ground Zero and be touched in a way you never imagined. Seek out the places where all the famous people lived: The Dakota, Edgar Alan Poe’s, Theodore Roosevelt’s, etc. No one will question you if you lurk outside these places trying to envision what they were like when these people were alive – what they saw, how this contributed to what they did. Stroll anywhere along the Hudson, any time of year (but I’d most highly recommend late winter when the ice flows form as the ice cracks and breaks) and lose yourself in this most magnificent river. I have no idea why this particular body of water is so, so hypnotic, but I promise you, it is.

Why do I feel like I’m losing a friend? We won’t really be that far from New York. We can easily be in midtown Manhattan by train within two and a half hours. That’s nothing. It’s not like we’re moving to Seattle. But why do I have this gnawing feeling that we’re always going to be too busy, that we’ll never make it back?

9 comments:

Rebecca said...

Emily, such elegiac writing. Of course you will be back, because I am going to insist on meeting up with you in New York. We will go book shopping and to the Cloisters again for starters.

As for the McMansions - what possesses these people? And who are the architects who are perpetrating these monstrosities? If we can find out, perhaps we can send them some books on architecture. I keep seeing more and more houses built in Westport that look like they started life as children's drawings. Stick another turret on at random, add a few more out of proportion columns, don't forget the quadruple garage.

Anne Camille said...

A wonderful description of NYC, Emily. I'm going to have to try the Hungarian Pastry Shop sometime. Back in April, I was in NYC. I went to Labryinth Books -- a place I could spend hours -- then wandered over to walk through the Cathedral Close to see the peacocks. It was too early for any of the flowers in the gardens to be in bloom but I did see the birds which always amaze me. On my way back to my friend's on 110th, I spied The Hungarian Pastry Shop. How had I missed it all the times I've walked on that part of Amsterdam?

You're right about the Hudson. My temp digs when I'm working in the area are on the other side of the Hudson, with a beautiful view of the City. Sometimes it's a toss-up which is more mesmerizing -- the magnifient Manhattan skyline or the Hudson River.

You will miss it, but I have a theory that those who love New York always find reasons to go back there. I have an opera-loving friend who is so pleased with the Met's Hi-Def opera broadcasts that she says she no longer has a reason to go to NYC. Although the opera broadcasts are great, how sad to think that one would decide not to go to NYC.

Rebecca H. said...

You capture the ambivalence I feel about living in CT so well. And I will insist, along with Becky, that we meet up in NYC -- I think a long walk through interesting neighborhoods would be perfect.

Emily Barton said...

Becky and Dorr, I think we'll have to have our book discussion groups in New York all the time now (after all, any writer worth reading seems to have at least had some sort of "New York Period," right?). We can discuss the book and then go book shopping for the next book. And while we're at it, we can rag on Connecticut and its hideous architects.

Cam, oh yes, you must go to the Hungarian Pastry shop next time you're in town. I recommend their croissants and their cherry or cherry/cheese strudel (always so difficult to make up your mind). But walk over to Broadway and get your coffee at Orens (where it is far superior). And your friend lives at 110th and Amserdam? I'm SO jealous!

IM said...

I think you'll get back Emily, I know how much you love it, and if I didn't before, I do now. By the way, just wondering, where are you going?

Froshty said...

I think that if you love New York, it never really leaves you. I haven't been to New York since 1998, but it's still with me even now. I trot it out in my head quite often and am reminded of how much I love it almost every other time I open a book because so many books that I read take place there. If you love it, you love it always, no matter how much time passes between visits.

I am devastated to hear that they have McMansions up in Connecticut. All of my beloved old "farm-to-market roads" in Wake County that have provided Wayne and me with some gorgeous bike rides are now being widened and the farms being divided into postage stamp lots with 6000 square-foot garages with windows on top. I had always hoped that when I left Wake County, I could get away from these but apparently they're ubiquitous. There are literally thousands of these neighborhoods all around me--and they are very creepy. I can't imagine being the kind of person who would ever find joy living in one.

Emily Barton said...

Ian, well I hope by now you received the round robin that tells you exactly where I'm going (I goofed and didn't exactly send it "round"). (And apologies to anyone reading this comment who has no idea to what I'm referring. It's a family communication thing.) And you're right. I'm sure I'll make it back. My hope is to have enough money when we retire to have a small cottage in Maine and a small apartment in Manhattan and go back and forth between the two. We'll see...

Froshty, Yes, McMansions are EVERYwhere! They look particularly hideous in the tiny, crowded state of Connecticut, though. And you're right, NY sticks with you no matter what. I was completely obsessed after my very first visit.

Anonymous said...

One of the things I love about New York is that there are neighborhoods and you get to know the people in them. When I was dating Dan I got to know his neighborhood around West 44th. I could say hi to familiar faces and the guys at the local deli always looked after us. There was a man who stood outside a parking garage on 42nd Street. Dan would pass him on his way to work and every day they would stop and shake hands.

Emily Barton said...

Linser, yes the neighborhoods, which I never really understood until we lived there, are great. It's almost like small-town living, the way everyone gets to know everyone else.