Ground: Hit running, New, Hallowed, Covered, and to be Taken

I've been to New York quite a few times. Because of this, so far I'm finding the transition surprisingly easy; my host Elyse has certainly been a big part of that. We'll see if the trend continues. I'm getting around fine and totally owning the subway.

Last night I set up shop at an Israeli restaurant while Elyse was at work. I had Israeli salad and camped out on the sidewalk with my laptop, getting caught up on various pieces of my electronic life — email, insurance, my smartypants blog, etc. The first photo in the gallery is what I saw looking out onto 3rd ave on the Upper East Side while I ate and typed.

I decided to jump on the metro and head down to lower Manhattan to Battery Park to catch a glimpse of Lady Liberty at night in New York Harbor. She's further out into New York harbor than I remember. I couldn't get a good shot with my iPhone. I entered Battery Park near Castle Clinton, an old fort. I learned that the walk I took to get there was once open water, long since filled in with new ground right up to the fort. Clinton Castle is now the launching point for tours to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island.

Home is West Michigan. Because of Lake Michigan, I'm accustomed to standing on a shore and seeing water as far as the eye can see. I was struck with how much more powerful the Atlantic filling New York Harbor seems to be. And it was perfectly still save for a few waves from a passing ferry. So much quiet fierceness. Lake Michigan seems so much friendlier somehow (though she certainly has her occasional temper tantrums).

A huge concert across the water at Governor's Island drew me down the way. I ended up at the Staten Island Ferry terminal. Back in college I worked on a service project on Staten Island for a week and took the ferry to get there. The terminal has been significantly renovated since I was last there. It's beautiful in the nighttime. I also read a little of the history of lower Manhattan at the terminal. Broadway Ave (not far away) is the oldest north-south thoroughfare through Manhattan dating back to the days of New Amsterdam. It was originally a Native American path. The Smithsonian National Museum of the American Indian is nearby.

I wandered around to Bowling Green, a small public park that happens to be the oldest in New York City, dating to the 1700's. It is still surrounded by its original fence. Legend has it that upon the reading of the Declaration of Independence at City Hall, a statue of King George in the park was toppled and melted down to form bullets for the revolution. To this day, saw marks are visible atop the fence where crown toppers were forcibly removed.

It was only about 11 o'clock so I decided to head up to the World Trade Center. One World Trade Center is currently at about half its final height. The National September 11 Memorial opens in 21 days, on the 10th anniversary of the attack. Because of all the construction fencing, it's nearly impossible to see what's become of Ground Zero — even the soon to be opened memorial is obscured. I visited about four years ago when final cleanup and foundation work for the current structures was under way. At the time, an outdoor, clearly professionally designed but temporary memorial was erected. I thoughtfully read all the panels, leaning in, hands behind my back like a proper musem visitor. Then I looked through a gap in the fence and saw the actual site. I instantanesouly began to weep. It came over me with that quiet fierceness of the water in the harbor. I had no such reaction this time around. On the way back to Elyse's apartment, I visited St. Paul's Chapel of Trinity Church — a major part of the 9/11 story and a significant historical fixture of Manhattan long before the word “terrorist” was spoken so often within its walls.

Elyse was clearly amused at how much ground I covered and joked last night that I should just start educating her about New York since it seems I know more than she does.

Today I'm leaving Elyse's apartment and will be moving into my new apartment with my two bags and my laptop (boxes to be shipped over soon). I'm off to my first orientation events at school tomorrow. New ground of my own to be taken…

The halls smell vaguely of urine.

All the advice I heard was to hold off trying to arrange an apartment any sooner than a month before I needed it. Turnover is high. Living arrangements are fluid. Scams are easy to fall victim to — especially from afar. The trick is that I needed a place in September. As in the same month all the college students in the area are also looking for (cheap) places to live. In order to finish up work, button up my life, and say goodbyes (and linger as long as possible), my plan was to move out in mid August. So my situation had all the makings of the kind of comedy film you might go to see and laugh at mostly because you paid money to laugh at it. I've been doing what I could to make connections before I moved. This included several churches, various friends of friends, and an apartment broker placement service.

I was once part owner and a co-host of a local start-up online and on-air TV show back home in Grand Rapids, Michigan. It never got off the ground. Sadly, the website is long gone. One of my co-hosts, Maya, went on to live in Brooklyn for a time. She's now back in Michigan, but just days before I moved to New York, she connected me with a pastor who connected me with someone else, and, long story short, I now have a ridiculously great apartment situation.

It's very nearly too good to be true. The price is several hundred dollars less per month than I was expecting to budget. It's perhaps 150 feet from a major (but quaint) subway station. It's six very short stops from school. The apartment is large by New York standards. It's a few blocks south of Prospect Park (Brooklyn's equivalent of Central Park) and in a very nice neighborhood. My room comes with a new bed and desk left behind by a previous roommate (apparently a bit of a flake). This makes the initial move much easier. My room also has a sleeper sofa so I can even host guests. I already have keys to move in. The building itself is “well loved”, and the halls smell vaguely of urine (be forewarned), but the apartment itself is quite nice and bedbug free (seriously — this is an issue in New York in the last few years). My new place is also on an odd little dead end street but the area at large is just great. All in all, it's a true blessing, and I'm very thankful.

Everyone, meet Justin, a graphic designer / editor / animator and my new roomie. He's originally from Michigan! Eastside props! His internship just became a full-time job (nice work, dude).

I'll post photos of my place when I move in. If you're in the know, you already have my new address or will very soon. Make plans to visit. You can meet Justin.

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My first 18 hours as a New Yorker. Give or take.

A small crowd of my people saw me off at the airport with many hugs and lots of tears. It was these same people that got me through the last few days of packing and preparing to leave; I was spent about two days earlier than I could afford to be (thank you again to all of you). I handed my Michigan driver's license and boarding pass to the TSA agent at the security checkpoint wondering if “weepy mess” was part of their profiling training to spot potential terrorists. By the time the plane landed in Milwaukee (yes, Milwaukee) for my layover, I was doing rather well. Until, that is, I started seeing all manner of tweets from my technology-savvy friends saying ridiculously complimenary things about me and about how they missed me. I was crying again when I bought my salad and fruit cup for lunch.

I arrived at La Guardia airport in New York ahead of schedule. When I met my friend Elyse at the  airport and we rode the bus into Manhattan I was doing so well. I was completely in love with all these crazy people I was smashed together with on the bus. The bus driver was like a modern day, black Ralph Kramden (for those old enough to know that reference). He had a booming voice he used often to fit entirely too many people on the bus. We  came up over the bridge across the East River and could see Manhattan. It was inspiring. I felt more hopeful than intimidated.

A long trip into Elyse's neighborhood followed. The trip was long mostly because of my heavy, unwieldy bags. From the bus it was down into the subway. We arrived at the 86th Street station and walked to Elyse's tiny 300 square foot Manhattan apartment. This would be my temporary home for some number of days.

After getting settled, at around 8 o'clock we went out to get a small something to eat and go out on the town. We had delicious empanadas at a little Argentinian place. Right then, it started to hit. I just felt hollow  somehow. Unanchored. Doubts about everything started to creep in and have their way. I got this idea in my head that I was going to make it for a week and then have a real breakdown. Lord, what have I gone and gotten myself into?

But then everything changed.

Elyse asked what I wanted to do after our small meal. I suggested a walk in Central Park as it wasn't far away.  She offered also a walk along the promenade that runs through a park along the East  River. We did that. We walked a long ways in the perfect night air. We ended  up under cable cars crossing the river alongside the Queensboro Bridge. I used a magic app on my iPhone to figure out what we were seeing  as neither of us knew. It was the Roosevelt Island Aerial Tramway (be sure to follow that link for pictures). I'm fairly certain this is the tram in the very first Toby  Maguire Spider-man film. Elyse and I joked that Roosevelt Island will be the place that we always plan to visit while we both live in New York but never do.

On the walk I told Elyse about a park I'd always wanted to see. She knew just what I was talking about, and it was nearby. High Line Park was once an elevated train track. It's now  this beautiful, elevated, narrow park above the city streets. The city presses in on it with  these gorgeous, weathered, brick buildings. The night lighting is amazing. The  landscaping is perfectly designed. The old train tracks remain in sections, embedded in  the new concrete panels. There's art all along the park. I was so enthralled  by it all, I nearly came apart at the seams. The High Line is my new favorite park  in the entire world.

I had expressed interest in Vietnamese food for our dinner. Elyse had heard of a place. It was just down the way from the High Line. We got off the High Line walk and darted over to a Vietnamese / Thai  place (run by a French-trained chef) in the Meatpacking District named Spice Market. The food was just amazing. The ginger margarita blew our minds. A spilled dish introduced us to two middle-aged women at the next table who confessed that they were in the city from New jersey out on a man hunt. Or rather, Nancy, a divorcée “getting back on the horse” was on a manhunt. Trish was her “wing gal” (Trish's phrase). They hadn't found any men and had a half  hour left in their evening quest. So I promptly invited myself over, sat right next to Nancy and put my arm around her. I fashioned myself as her man candy as best I could (as much as I'm able to be such a thing) for the half hour before they had to exit the city back home. They were both rather taken with my height and laughed hysterically when I called Nancy's ex-husband “short” (he's 6' 3"). The four of us all had a riot. Nancy seemed very appreciative of my gesture, and I think she's going to be just fine.

We didn't get in from our night out until really late. Or, rather, really early. I nearly fell asleep standing up in the subway a half dozen times. I showered and collapsed  into bed. I didn't get up until noon. Elyse prepared a very late, vegetarian brunch of coffee, toast with fig spread, and blueberry / kiwi / yogurt smoothies. It was a refreshing little meal that was the perfect period to a long run-on sentence of adventures. Long story short — after all that happened the night before I felt like a new man. I think I'm going to be just fine.