The first thing that strikes you about America is… well, everything. The more you look around the more you find the source of every movie stereotype you’ve ever seen. From the big cars to the big personalities Americans live their lives large and that’s largely what makes New York so appealing to the small town British tourist with a comparatively reserved personality. I generally find the term ‘it took my breath away’ to be little more than a cliché but I can’t think of a better way to describe my reaction when I walked out of the 42nd street subway and was greeted with the looming skyscrapers of the New York skyline. It may have been partly due to sleep deprivation but after picking the general direction of Times Square I started off down the street with my head arched back and a complete disregard for how much I looked like a complete tourist.
Which was better than I felt walking into the Mansfield Hotel wearing a backpacker’s rucksack and smelling like 24 hours of travel. The Mansfield is a respectable little place situated just off the main bustle of Times Square and an image which can only be described as 1920’s heyday. I’d chosen the place based on the thought that it would be nice to spend a few days in relative luxury after nine weeks working in the desert but completely forgot my lack of any suitable clothes or luggage. If the well dressed lady behind the counter had any reservations about letting in such a vagrant she didn’t show it but I still made a point of doing some urgent clothes shopping first thing the following morning.
To anyone unfamiliar with city metro services the New York subway system is an attraction in itself. I spent a happy half hour hopping on and off trains before paying attention to where I was actually going. It’s an incredibly efficient system and there can’t be many places in the world more suited to people watching. There seems to be an unwritten rule among inhabitants that any form of eye contact must be avoided at all costs which makes it pretty easy to get a good look at the assortment of characters around you. In-transit entertainment is also provided by a random selection of subway performers (just like street performers but underground). The Mexican guitarist and break-dancers I encountered on my travels prompted a particularly strong bout of navel gazing by my fellow travelers but I dropped them both a couple of dollars and left the train feeling a little bit happier than I had when I’d boarded. I always find it interesting to hear the different recorded voices on trains, from the crisp politeness of the Brits to the subtle elegance of the French. The one in use on the New York subway system deserves mention of its own; an amiable voice filled with so much enthusiasm that you almost expect to see the man bound through the door and shake your hand.
After navigating the subway I finally made it down to Bowlers Green and across to the Ellis Island ferry port. However, after a look at the twisting queue brought on a flash-back to the customs and immigration line at the airport (an uncomfortable 2 hour wait) I quickly decided to appreciate the Statue of Liberty from a distance. After an aimless walk past Wall Street I stumbled across the site of the World Trade Centre. Standing on the edge of ground zero and overlooking the huge construction site which now covers the conspicuously open space is a humbling experience. I found it all too easy to look down the surrounding streets and imagine the billowing clouds of dust and panic on September 11th 2001. I had a quick chat with an official whose main purpose seemed to be to shoo eager photo seekers off the surrounding plinths. When asked about what he thought of Freedom Tower, the new building currently under construction on the old site he perked up considerably. “It’s great isn’t it?” he said pointing to the artists’ rendition on a large banner along the fence in front of us. “It’s still going to take about five years to complete but the sooner we can get this area open to the public again the better”. I asked him to take my photo but felt surprisingly guilty; it seemed wrong to be using the location of such a tragedy as just another tourist opportunity.
Tomorrow it’s off to Washington.
