UN, crowds and Jew Arabs
Walked from the hostel across the park and then down the east side to the UN plaza, something I'd missed on my previous visit to NY. It was a little disappointing - I was expecting it to be a little more monumental, when it really just seems to be a somewhat uninspiring government building.
Walked next along the low 40 streets to Times Square to check out the arrangements for new years. Crowds crowds everywhere, all tourists. A convoy of 6-10 police cars with sirens on flies past.
Began to walk up broadway to find a subway station, but got tired rapidly of fighting through all the people, so went over to 8th Ave and walked that way up to Colombus Circle. The Colombus Circle station seems mazelike - the route from the entrance I usually use to the uptown 1/9 platform twists and turns a poorly signposted route, up and down stairs, along platforms for other lines.
In the evening, chinese again, read start of next book 'First Person Plural' in hostel, then sat in Abbey Pub for an hour or so writing down memories in notepad. Then down to Ciao to see if anything more interesting was happening there. At Ciao at about 2320. No Noelle today but many other interesting people. I occupy the end of the bar, looking across at the faces of the people sitting in the stools.
Firstly, a drunken man from Czech republic. He has had two shots of tequilla (and seemingly much more). He orders wine, samples that offered by barman, says he does not like but takes a glass anyway. He invites me to go to another pub with him. I decline. He asks where I am from. I say London. He refuses to believe, insisting that I am clearly a Jew Arab (from the accent and the nose). After failing to drink his wine, he leaves the bar failing to pay. He is chased down the street by two men from the restaurant who bring him back to pay.
Jeff from previous night is here with a girl at a table. He waves across bar and asks if I will be there for NY. We make polite smalltalk to a minute or so, and then I leave him to his girl.
An older turkish lady (Sevestet) talks of how she has been coming to 'Ciao!' and the predecessor to it for the 33 years that she has lived in New York. She is a painter and a sculptor and has a nearby shop.
Two boys from Bristol arrive - John and Dave. One asks where I am from - he comments clearly not New York but I am not sure that he realises that I started off English.
The english boys leave to be replaced immediately by three glaswegian couples. They have difficulty grasping the concept that the beer taps do not work and that if they want beer, they must have from bottles. One asks if there is draught cider instead.
By this time, I have moved around the bar to sit in the middle of the long edge, leaving my possessions (navy coat, hat, gloves and tin of mints) at the far end in my earlier corner.
A group of about 10 people comes in - they cannot all stand at the bar. At least two get beer, but it is not clear what happens to the rest of them.
The barman apologies that he has just restocked the corona and so it is not ice cold. I joke that because of my national origins, I do not mind it a little warm. Then I take a sip and realise that I do.
In the back of the restaurant, a family with a bored looking girl dines. The owner and his henchmen fawn over a table of five pretty blond girls drinking martinis.
The scots leave and the bar for a minute or so is occupied by just me.
Two more scots arrive - these two from Edinburgh. I impress them with my use of the word 'weejie'. On the other side of me, a couple (Patricia and boyfriend) arrive. Patricia writes a happy new years greeting and her name in my notepad in mirror writing. We hold the page up to the light to see how well formed the writing is - very well done.
The scots decide to move on, and I go with them. On the steps outside Ciao, we find a couple of pretty irish girls. They are on a smoking break from their friends who are inside '1849', the next bar down from Ciao. We share cigarettes with them and then go into 1849 for a beer. Meet their other irish friends. One asks if I am Australian. I tell him London. He then asks the Scots which part of London they are from. Fun with accents.
We move onto the Red Lion, the furthest down Bleeker Street that I have managed to drink. $5 cover charge. I queue for a beer but just as I am about to order, the scots appear, having purchased one for me. A band plays 'Brown Sugar'. They are cool.
At 0347 the band finishes, the Red Lion closes and we must all leave.
The Irish write pages of drunken greetings into my book, then drive off to wherever. The Scots walk me to the station - one intends to get a taxi back to hotel, the other wants to take subway. At the subway station, the first gets into taxi, but the second refuses. After much drunken rambling at ticket office staff, we acquire a one trip card for him and get on the 1 heading uptown. He does not know which stop. As far as I can work out, Penn Station would be best for him. He has no choice but to believe.
Walked next along the low 40 streets to Times Square to check out the arrangements for new years. Crowds crowds everywhere, all tourists. A convoy of 6-10 police cars with sirens on flies past.
Began to walk up broadway to find a subway station, but got tired rapidly of fighting through all the people, so went over to 8th Ave and walked that way up to Colombus Circle. The Colombus Circle station seems mazelike - the route from the entrance I usually use to the uptown 1/9 platform twists and turns a poorly signposted route, up and down stairs, along platforms for other lines.
In the evening, chinese again, read start of next book 'First Person Plural' in hostel, then sat in Abbey Pub for an hour or so writing down memories in notepad. Then down to Ciao to see if anything more interesting was happening there. At Ciao at about 2320. No Noelle today but many other interesting people. I occupy the end of the bar, looking across at the faces of the people sitting in the stools.
Firstly, a drunken man from Czech republic. He has had two shots of tequilla (and seemingly much more). He orders wine, samples that offered by barman, says he does not like but takes a glass anyway. He invites me to go to another pub with him. I decline. He asks where I am from. I say London. He refuses to believe, insisting that I am clearly a Jew Arab (from the accent and the nose). After failing to drink his wine, he leaves the bar failing to pay. He is chased down the street by two men from the restaurant who bring him back to pay.
Jeff from previous night is here with a girl at a table. He waves across bar and asks if I will be there for NY. We make polite smalltalk to a minute or so, and then I leave him to his girl.
An older turkish lady (Sevestet) talks of how she has been coming to 'Ciao!' and the predecessor to it for the 33 years that she has lived in New York. She is a painter and a sculptor and has a nearby shop.
Two boys from Bristol arrive - John and Dave. One asks where I am from - he comments clearly not New York but I am not sure that he realises that I started off English.
The english boys leave to be replaced immediately by three glaswegian couples. They have difficulty grasping the concept that the beer taps do not work and that if they want beer, they must have from bottles. One asks if there is draught cider instead.
By this time, I have moved around the bar to sit in the middle of the long edge, leaving my possessions (navy coat, hat, gloves and tin of mints) at the far end in my earlier corner.
A group of about 10 people comes in - they cannot all stand at the bar. At least two get beer, but it is not clear what happens to the rest of them.
The barman apologies that he has just restocked the corona and so it is not ice cold. I joke that because of my national origins, I do not mind it a little warm. Then I take a sip and realise that I do.
In the back of the restaurant, a family with a bored looking girl dines. The owner and his henchmen fawn over a table of five pretty blond girls drinking martinis.
The scots leave and the bar for a minute or so is occupied by just me.
Two more scots arrive - these two from Edinburgh. I impress them with my use of the word 'weejie'. On the other side of me, a couple (Patricia and boyfriend) arrive. Patricia writes a happy new years greeting and her name in my notepad in mirror writing. We hold the page up to the light to see how well formed the writing is - very well done.
The scots decide to move on, and I go with them. On the steps outside Ciao, we find a couple of pretty irish girls. They are on a smoking break from their friends who are inside '1849', the next bar down from Ciao. We share cigarettes with them and then go into 1849 for a beer. Meet their other irish friends. One asks if I am Australian. I tell him London. He then asks the Scots which part of London they are from. Fun with accents.
We move onto the Red Lion, the furthest down Bleeker Street that I have managed to drink. $5 cover charge. I queue for a beer but just as I am about to order, the scots appear, having purchased one for me. A band plays 'Brown Sugar'. They are cool.
At 0347 the band finishes, the Red Lion closes and we must all leave.
The Irish write pages of drunken greetings into my book, then drive off to wherever. The Scots walk me to the station - one intends to get a taxi back to hotel, the other wants to take subway. At the subway station, the first gets into taxi, but the second refuses. After much drunken rambling at ticket office staff, we acquire a one trip card for him and get on the 1 heading uptown. He does not know which stop. As far as I can work out, Penn Station would be best for him. He has no choice but to believe.
posted by Ben Clifford at 19:40 GMT
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