Springtime is almost here. After the winter we’ve had, it can’t come quickly enough–I’m longing for warm days and sandals and photographing food in natural light. We had a small taste of it Saturday when my parents came up for a day trip, and given my parents’ penchant for walking the day practically demanded a long stroll around the city.
Our wandering took us from the MoMA through the Flatiron District and to Greenwich Village (my father remarked later that it was astounding that I got him both to an art museum and the Village in one day) and despite having a little trouble in finding a place to eat, it was all in all a nice day. At one point we stepped into an Irish pub figuring we’d get something simple like a burger, but when we walked in we were greeted by a very loud, very driving techno beat and about fifteen or so very drunk people loitering about the bar, all wearing green on some part of their person and all of them gave us death stares as to why the hell we were there, as if the presence of sober people would somehow diminish the alcoholic fog that was in the air. It takes a certain sort of determination to be that wasted by 2:30 on a Saturday when the football season is over and the baseball season has yet to begin.
We don’t hang out by NYU that often, usually only passing through if we’re walking from SoHo to Union Square, so it was a treat to walk through Washington Square Park for the first time in years. I don’t know much about the campus except that the library’s floor was designed to look like spikes when viewed from the top floor and there’s a quaint little gated street nearby known as Washington Mews. The former I learned on the NYU campus tour that I took with my godmother many years ago, and the latter was pointed out after the tour as my godmother led the lot of us around, proving to be a much more interesting guide in the process.
The light was starting to wane a bit on the last day before Daylight Savings took over, and we wanted to make sure my parents would be back near Penn Station with plenty of time to catch their train (the last Keystone of the night, apparently) so we headed westward, straight into the West Village–another neighborhood we don’t spend nearly enough time in even though we should. It doesn’t buzz with tourists and it has this lovely, laid-back vibe (aside from the five-plus sex shops we passed in two blocks…awkward!) that is right up our alley. As the weather gets warmer I predict that we’ll be spending more time exploring its delights, as it’s just a (long) subway ride down the 1.
Assuming the 1 is running, that is. We were at the mercy of shuttle buses between 96th and 116th all weekend, which was not awesome–one bus (not even one of the new fancy Select Bus Service buses) can not make up for eight trains’ worth of people, so chaos naturally ensued. But I digress.
Transportation issues aside, it was a day that was filled with fond memories, both new and old. It was strange–looking up at the Empire State Building from a block away is odd–but delightful in its way.