I rode my bike to the Manhattan Bridge and used it to enter Manhattan. It was a nice, cool morning with light rain. I wondered if I would see any Hasidic Jews, Brooklyn has a huge pupulation of these people; I've seen Hasidic Jews in a documentary and in fictional TV programs and I wanted to see them for real. Sure enough, Hasidic Jews were dominating the sidewalks along much of my trip. The kids were particularly cute. Out of respect, and my own hurry, I did not photograph them.
When I arrived in Manhattan I noticed that my bike problems were being complicated by a bolt that kept coming undone (because of the rain), which I had to keep tightening by hand. I eventually found a suitable subway stop for my route. After purchasing my pass, my bike chain got caught on the turnstile, pinning me and the bike in the turnstile area. New York doesn't have a bike-friendly rail system, unfortunately. It took me awhile to get free and enter.
I hit my first major annoyance of the day when it became clear that major construction was going on, which meant that the train only went as far as 59th street, whereas, I intended to ride the subway all the way to 162nd street (two-thirds short of the distance). The speaker mentioned a free shuttle and other alternatives, but I couldn't figure out what the hell was what. I probably lost a whole hour reading and re-reading the flyers posted in the station stop, which were not helpful. Apparently, some homeless guy was tired of me being there and seemed to shout at me. I came to the harsh acceptance that I would have to try to ride my bike all the way up in as timely a manner as possible.
I found my way to the Hudson River Greenway, which is pretty much traffic free. Along the way I came upon a cool overlook and took some pictures. Alas, the path ended before it was ideal and I had to find my way back to Broadway. I rode through part of Harlem and eventually hit the Bronx. Somewhere in between I found myself witnessing a man ride a recumbent bicycle in front of me. I let him ride off into the distance, but after he passed there was another man walking toward me who had a thick New York accent and the strut and swagger to match. Physically, he reminded me of Joe Spinell (less intense eyes). This man made a wisecrack to me wondering if the guy on the recumbent bike was trying to save gas money. I didn't respond, but he offered, "I'm just kidding!"
In the Bronx, I stopped and entered a Starbucks to assess my progress and fine tune my route. It turned out that I was nearby one of the parks I meant to visit, so I went to Inwood Hill Park first. Inwood Hill was surprisingly lush with thick woods, I walked my bike from the southern end to the northern end and eventually found my way back to Broadway.
In the Bronx, I stopped and entered a Starbucks to assess my progress and fine tune my route. It turned out that I was nearby one of the parks I meant to visit, so I went to Inwood Hill Park first. Inwood Hill was surprisingly lush with thick woods, I walked my bike from the southern end to the northern end and eventually found my way back to Broadway.
At one point, I tried to take a shortcut, straying from Broadway, which only got me on the verge of being lost, so I returned to Broadway and persisted through the stop-and-go traffic, intersection after intersection.
I finally passed by Van Cortlandt Park, which meant I was nearly exiting the city, which meant Yonkers and the sought out train stop.
By the time I reached the Riverdale stop in Yonkers it was already afternoon. As a result, I decided that I would not go north at all, I would simply ride the train back into Manhattan and then return to the hostel to refresh and prepare for a night ride.
When I finally boarded the Hudson line I was underwhelmed. Unlike the regional trains in California, there were no restrooms or water dispensers (same went for SEPTA in Philadelphia), which would suck going all the way up to Poughkeepsie. Another thing I did not like was that the train was only one level high, once again unlike the comparable trains in California. However, the New York regional lines have much greater travel flexibility (more trips throughout the day).
My final stop was none other than Grand Central Terminal. First there was a walkway that led to a stairs, which led to a large area of dining and waiting. Then the famous departures/arrivals room was upstairs. On either side of the main floor there are two elevated areas overlooking it, accessible by steps. One side featured an Apple/iPhone store, which was buzzing, perhaps more than the terminal itself. Grand Central was smaller than I imagined it, but neat nonetheless.
After Grand Central I rode my bike back to the hostel, crossing into Brooklyn via the Manhattan bridge once again. Once again I witnessed many Hasidic Jews on my ride, actually, I had seen a Hasidic Jew at Grand Central who looked like he was inspecting watches or something. I showered and made updated directions for an updated itinerary before returning to Manhattan for one last time.
First, I wanted to visit the Brooklyn Bridge Park(s) and get some classic skylines in 3D. I got my shots and enjoyed the company of fellow sightseers. I came across some people making a student film before I left, which involved a young woman running in fright, if I'm not mistaken.
After photographing the Brooklyn Bridge, I wanted to ride across it into Manhattan. On the way toward the bridge I mentally salivated as I passed many fine looking Brooklyn eateries near the river. Finding the bridge promenade entrance was tricky, but eventually I found it. I enjoyed riding the Brooklyn Bridge more than the Manhattan Bridge. I enjoyed the greater traffic of cyclists and pedestrians. I found a spot from which to take photos from the bridge and carefully set up my tripod. As I took photos I received some attention from a local who was interested in my set-up, which included a stereo lens system. He was also interested in my folding bike, he shared that his friend had a carbon fiber bike that could be lifted with a pinky. Not so with mine. For some reason he also wanted to point out the FDR East River Drive to me. This was one of those moments.
Anyhow, I made my way to each of the landmarks as seen in my photos (3D yet to come). Overall, my experience on the east coast with my camera went very smoothly, however, at the Rockefeller Center an older man approached me and asked me to put away the tripod for safety reasons. At least there was no problem with the camera itself. After Rockefeller Center I checked out the Time Warner Center mall, which, as I feared, was closed, becoming the latest thing that I missed. I went to a CVS or Rite-Aid (don't rightly remember) to buy some sugary candy and then I went into the subway to head back to the hostel.
In the subway I found that my ticket wasn't being read properly. Fortunately, there was someone on duty. I approached him and explained my problem. He examined my pass and pointed out a crease. He told me that I needed to straighten it out as good as I can, and then it should work. Sure enough, it worked after some straightening and flattening.
The subway was pretty peaceful. However, in a car that was at least half empty, a young man approached and said, "Excuse me," since my folding bike was in his intended way. In a fit, I pushed my bike to the other end of the car and moved with it. The young man was an interesting individual because he recited every station stop and transfer, verbatim, before or during the speaker system disseminated the information. Sometimes he announced everything, mostly to himself, when the speaker system was muffled. He knew this train very well and was quite the specimen of a passenger is spite of my initial annoyance.
Finally, after my subway ride, I would transfer to the elevated line into Brooklyn, which would take me within a few blocks of the hostel. I've always wanted to ride an elevated train in Brooklyn, more so than the subway. On the elevated train there was a homeless white man who told us how he chose to be homeless because he wanted to get away from his drug-addicted parents. Of course, he was asking for money. I actually gave him a little something. Another guy in the train was quite fascinated and gave him more money and asked him some questions about the lifestyle.
Eventually, another passenger, a middle aged man who was the paper reading type, complimented my folding bike. Soon after that I was off the train and ready to head back. Before I could get down I heard some alarming outburst from the street level, but there was no threat to me and I never figured out what caused it. I made it back to the hostel and settled in for a very short sleep as my outbound plane was due to leave a little after 7am, which meant I had to leave the hostel even earlier.
My final stop was none other than Grand Central Terminal. First there was a walkway that led to a stairs, which led to a large area of dining and waiting. Then the famous departures/arrivals room was upstairs. On either side of the main floor there are two elevated areas overlooking it, accessible by steps. One side featured an Apple/iPhone store, which was buzzing, perhaps more than the terminal itself. Grand Central was smaller than I imagined it, but neat nonetheless.
After Grand Central I rode my bike back to the hostel, crossing into Brooklyn via the Manhattan bridge once again. Once again I witnessed many Hasidic Jews on my ride, actually, I had seen a Hasidic Jew at Grand Central who looked like he was inspecting watches or something. I showered and made updated directions for an updated itinerary before returning to Manhattan for one last time.
First, I wanted to visit the Brooklyn Bridge Park(s) and get some classic skylines in 3D. I got my shots and enjoyed the company of fellow sightseers. I came across some people making a student film before I left, which involved a young woman running in fright, if I'm not mistaken.
After photographing the Brooklyn Bridge, I wanted to ride across it into Manhattan. On the way toward the bridge I mentally salivated as I passed many fine looking Brooklyn eateries near the river. Finding the bridge promenade entrance was tricky, but eventually I found it. I enjoyed riding the Brooklyn Bridge more than the Manhattan Bridge. I enjoyed the greater traffic of cyclists and pedestrians. I found a spot from which to take photos from the bridge and carefully set up my tripod. As I took photos I received some attention from a local who was interested in my set-up, which included a stereo lens system. He was also interested in my folding bike, he shared that his friend had a carbon fiber bike that could be lifted with a pinky. Not so with mine. For some reason he also wanted to point out the FDR East River Drive to me. This was one of those moments.
Anyhow, I made my way to each of the landmarks as seen in my photos (3D yet to come). Overall, my experience on the east coast with my camera went very smoothly, however, at the Rockefeller Center an older man approached me and asked me to put away the tripod for safety reasons. At least there was no problem with the camera itself. After Rockefeller Center I checked out the Time Warner Center mall, which, as I feared, was closed, becoming the latest thing that I missed. I went to a CVS or Rite-Aid (don't rightly remember) to buy some sugary candy and then I went into the subway to head back to the hostel.
In the subway I found that my ticket wasn't being read properly. Fortunately, there was someone on duty. I approached him and explained my problem. He examined my pass and pointed out a crease. He told me that I needed to straighten it out as good as I can, and then it should work. Sure enough, it worked after some straightening and flattening.
The subway was pretty peaceful. However, in a car that was at least half empty, a young man approached and said, "Excuse me," since my folding bike was in his intended way. In a fit, I pushed my bike to the other end of the car and moved with it. The young man was an interesting individual because he recited every station stop and transfer, verbatim, before or during the speaker system disseminated the information. Sometimes he announced everything, mostly to himself, when the speaker system was muffled. He knew this train very well and was quite the specimen of a passenger is spite of my initial annoyance.
Finally, after my subway ride, I would transfer to the elevated line into Brooklyn, which would take me within a few blocks of the hostel. I've always wanted to ride an elevated train in Brooklyn, more so than the subway. On the elevated train there was a homeless white man who told us how he chose to be homeless because he wanted to get away from his drug-addicted parents. Of course, he was asking for money. I actually gave him a little something. Another guy in the train was quite fascinated and gave him more money and asked him some questions about the lifestyle.
Eventually, another passenger, a middle aged man who was the paper reading type, complimented my folding bike. Soon after that I was off the train and ready to head back. Before I could get down I heard some alarming outburst from the street level, but there was no threat to me and I never figured out what caused it. I made it back to the hostel and settled in for a very short sleep as my outbound plane was due to leave a little after 7am, which meant I had to leave the hostel even earlier.
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