I Heart New York

Friday, September 6th. I had to force myself away from those cushy pillows on the bed at the Hyatt Regency. But, I had a big day ahead, so I got up and out the door. The young bellman who helped me get Henry David out of the service closet was very interested in the cycle and we talked a bit before I headed out. 

This was Levin from Jamaica. Another gorgeous Jamaican! Tall and thin and handsome with that lovely lilting accent. His passion is his 12 year old daughter. And fishing. And Jamaica. He goes “home” two to three times a year and plans to return there to live when his daughter is grown. He moved with his parents to the States when he was young, but he misses Jamaica. I asked him about his homeland and a wistful smile appeared on his face. It made me homesick for a home I know nothing about. “Jamaica”, he said, “is warm and beautiful. The people are my people, my family. They are healthy and strong and friendly and outgoing. They are full of life and laughter”.  Their diet contains minimal red meat and consists mostly of vegetables, fruits, and fish. When he was in Jamaica, he was very active and athletic. He still maintains a slim body, but doesn’t do much exercise anymore, as he has been busy with work and caring for his daughter. However, he explained that he gets his exercise now by lifting luggage and simply working on the job. Blessings to you, Levin. May all your dreams come true.

As for today, this was my own little dream come true. Everyone warned me to stay out of New York City. “The drivers are crazy!” “It is so dangerous!” “Oh, you want to go AROUND New York City; don’t even think of going through it!”

Which are just the kinds of statements that make me WANT to go through NYC! My Adventure Cycling maps have been directing me through the hills of the Appalachians and skirting around or away from the big cities. I have seen a lot of hills, mountains, and small towns. Now, here I was, near the Atlantic Coast, yet avoiding the actual coast! It didn’t make sense. 

I had to miss Boston because it was Labor Day weekend and there was no lodging available, so I was forced to head west of the city a few days earlier. I had really wanted to stay a night in Salem and wander through the lovely streets, steeped in history.  I had wished to walk to the harbor at night and light some candles for the poor women so long ago, who were different and earthy and burned for their sensuality with the label of “witch”. 

Here is another reason why I decided to go through the city rather than the Appalachian hills. These Appalachian roads are extremely steep and winding, with blind curves and blind hills. Traffic is not as heavy, but no one slows down, zipping around the curves and the hills as if they did not exist. They move way too far around me, into the other lane, on these blind hills. I cringe every time they do it and have to say that, on numerous occasions, a vehicle came from the other direction, being forced to put one or two tires in the dirt to avoid the car or truck that had entered their rightful lane. How can the city be much more dangerous than this?

So, I headed south on hwy 1. All through city life into NYC. Some areas had a little shoulder, some not. Once I reached the more heavily populated areas of New Rochelle, I was given more space and bike lanes started to appear in the northern part of the Bronx. 

I fell in love with the Bronx. This is my kind of town. Color everywhere. While the buildings were old and businesses garish, I felt a huge “WELCOME” from every corner. People were walking everywhere: families walking their children home from school, going shopping, hanging out with friends in front of stores and businesses. The few ladies standing on the street corner in one section wished me warm wishes of safety and affection. The police chatted with the locals. The men in the auto shops called out, asking to hitch a ride. People rolled down their car windows at the stoplights asking about HD and telling me I had a nice ride. Elders asked questions about HD as they wanted to cycle again but their balance was now preventing their wheels from getting used. I passed hundreds of people on the streets and sidewalks; young and old and every one in between either saying things to me directly or to the people with them “Look at that bike! That is so cool!”  Some even pointed, waved, and laughed aloud.

It is a noisy, wild, family. I felt very much at home. I could be kickin’ it in the Latino section, buying embroidered blouses and dancing salsa. Or hangin’ in the African American section buying scarves and hoodies and jammin’ to hiphop.  Or sitting in a Jewish deli drinking coffee and eating sandwiches and shooting the breeze with the local residents. The music was everywhere: blaring from businesses or from cars at the street intersections. I found myself cycle dancing: shaking head and shoulders and tapping my feet whenever stopped at a light.

People can be totally cool. Sure, you don’t do stupid things like cuss at people, show anger, etc. Emotions are right there on the surface in a city, so make sure your emotions are strong and full of love. Show fear and you may have something to fear. Look people in the eye, with a smile on your face, and a friendly “Hello!” in your speech, and you will be embraced. 

I pulled up on a wide sidewalk just north of the New York Botanical Gardens and The Bronx Zoo, as I planned to turn west to the bike paths along the Hudson River shoreline and needed to check my google cycling directions. A bus rolled up and some people poured out. There I met Hyacinth. She is a petite senior who lives here in the Bronx. She came up to me very excited, saying she saw me several blocks back and was curious about who I was and where I was going. Then, the bus dropped her right there where I had stopped. Hyacinth loves people and helping others---those are her primary passions. She has lived here all her life and raised a family. She has sold Mary Kay cosmetics for 15 years. She loves the Mary Kay company and philosophy and feels that this has added another wonderful layer to her life. 

Hyacinth asked if I was afraid to be out there alone. Well, I looked at this tiny woman, living in the midst of the city, hopping on and off buses and walking the streets alone. I explained that this wasn’t any different than what I was doing, I was just going farther on the cycle. “See, Hyacinth, a lone woman CAN do it!”

Hyacinth got very excited. She said, “Yes! ONE woman CAN!”

This is the Mary Kay Company’s 50th year anniversary. It was started by one woman: Mary Kay Ash. Fifty years later, 3 million women sell her products in 35 countries. “One Woman CAN!” is the MK motto, inspiring woman to have faith in themselves and to reach out to other women to help them with their self-image. When you feel good about yourself, it is easier to help others feel good as well. 

So, Hyacinth bubbles with love and enthusiasm. I found her quite an inspiration. Another of her passions “is the Man Upstairs” she said, eyes looking upward and index finger pointing to the heavens. She showered me with verbal blessings and we shared several hugs. 

I love this town. 

After the Bronx, I headed a few miles west to the Hudson River and then south through Upper Manhattan. This was cycled along the Henry Hudson Parkway, which is a beautiful and well kept paved path for cyclist, joggers, and walkers, who were all in heavy numbers that Friday afternoon. I missed Central Park and the heavy business section of Manhattan, where you would see the Empire State Building and all the modern skyscrapers. My best view of those were from the Jersey shore. 

Before I got to the bike path, however, I traveled several miles on the Grand Concourse. What a fascinating “street”. This is several lanes wide and has a section separated from the main street, called the “service road”. This road borders the hundreds of Bronx and Upper Manhattan businesses. There is a space, or lane, for service vehicles to stop to deliver and pick up goods, then a bike lane, then a lane for the vehicles. Then there is the barrier---plants, concrete, etc. Then, to the left of the barrier, are the lanes for the faster moving traffic. 

So, I cycled along the “bike path”. But here is reality. People park in the service vehicle parking lane. Service vehicles park in the bike lane, and cyclists and drivers of cars and trucks share the remaining lane. This is the way it is done. By necessity. There really is nowhere else for customers to park but in the service vehicle lane. So, we all respect each other and drivers gave me easement to pull into their traffic lane because my bike lane was so often blocked. 

That was my driving experience in NY, NY. Everyone giving easement when insisted. If you don’t insist, you don’t move forward. There are little toots on the horn all day long as people alert others to things. Most of the honking I heard was from cars telling the car in front of them that the light was green and to get a move on. These were brief short honks, not the “hanging on horn blasting”. Sometimes a truck gives a quick toot as a warning that he is pulling in lane. The honks and toots are communications.

I got a kick out of the fact that a lot of the tooting horns today were because people got distracted looking at HD and forgot to watch the light turn green! I pulled forward and they just watched me, forgetting to think about the fact that if I was moving, then maybe they should too! So, the vehicle behind them would pop their horn briefly, alert the distracted driver, and get the trafffic moving forward again. I can’t count the times I made it across the street before the cars at the light even started to move! It was part of my entertainment of the day.

I did not hear the angry hanging on horns and people shouting obscenities that you see on TV. It was a lively, busy, crazy, but respectful driving town. But don’t be shy or you will lose your place. Take it and run! And smile and wave and all is forgiven. 

I think New York drivers may be the best in the world. 

At pier 78, I purchased ferry tickets for both HD and I to cross the river to Paulus Hook, New Jersey, which is essentially the financial district of Jersey City. That little boat, smaller than the other ferries, flew across the water, creating quite a wake. As it slowed to pull into dock, HD went flying backward toward the water. I leapt from my seat to grab my beloved trike while the boatswain leapt up and grabbed me! 

“You can’t go out there; you might fall in the water!!” he yelled. 

“I cannot let my trike go overboard!” I replied, refusing to let go of the trike until the boat steadied at the dock. I held onto Henry David and the boatswain held onto me! LOL!!

He was glad when HD and I got off the boat!

The view from Paulus Hook over to Manhattan was spectacular. Wow. New York, New York. Incredible.

I love New York!

I was prepared to love New Jersey. I stopped in a Starbucks for a blonde roast and to figure out lodging. No campgrounds around here, of course. The hotels in the financial district were too high, so I looked to find the closest affordable place around. Howard Johnson Motel near the Newark Airport,  another 10 miles away, was the best I could find. 

So, I headed west to Newark, through Jersey City. Jersey City was similar to Upper Manhattan, with narrow streets and tall apartment/tenement buildings. Surprisingly, it was not as clean as Upper Manhattan. I saw more trash in the streets, but that is what happens with a lot of people living in a small space.

I found myself thinking of trash. You might notice it more in these hugely populated old cities. But here is what I have seen across the country:

There is human source trash EVERYWHERE. I see it hiking in the mountains. I see it in the desert, stuck in cacti and bushes.  I’ve seen it along river banks, even in somewhat remote areas. And I see people throwing trash out their car windows or just dropping it, on purpose, while walking down the street, in small towns. What is up with that, people?? I have not seen people dropping their trash on the ground in the big cities. I’m sure it happens, but I bet the per capita is less. With the population density, can you imagine how much trash there would be if everyone just dropped their crap on the ground in New York, LA, Chicago, Paris, or London?  

It is really about respecting our home and our planet. I can never understand why I see so many beer cans on the ground next to a beautiful river. Obviously, people wanted to be near the river---maybe for its beauty or its peace. So why in the world would you want to pollute the very thing you love? 

Wow. That question opens up a whole new area to explore. So, before I go socio-political on you, let’s just move on to the next topic. 

Getting to Newark.

This was a nightmare. 

Traveling on the only bridge I could use as either a pedestrian or cyclist, I had to use hwy 1. Up to now, this hwy has been fairly good. I had to go over several overpasses and rivers to get from Jersey City to Newark. Only one bridge had a walking lane--but too narrow for HD! So, with no hint of a shoulder and with the cars, trucks, and semis speeding over the bridges and overpasses, I cycled as fast as I could, right in the middle of the traffic. It was truly dangerous and one of the few times that I was actually scared. 

Scared as hell.

The trucks moved over when they could, but the traffic was so heavy that they often could not change or veer to the side, but skirted by me with just a foot or two to spare from my elbow. I got a few angry honks, but there was nothing I could do---I was not allowed on the interstate bridge and I couldn’t fit on the walking path, when there was one. There was no other choice. 

Jersey lost a “Jo Favor Point” on the lack of highway safety to Newark. There were no connecting side roads once in Newark itself to get to the motel. To get to the Howard Johnsons, I head to cycle what was an “approved highway”, but it was narrow and busy and dangerous and looped in a spiral to get to the frontage road, with cars and trucks whizzing by and wondering what the heck I was doing there. 

I wondered myself. 

Once I checked in, with hands shaking, I went to my room and looked on my iphone maps to see how I was going to get back out of this area. For a bicycle, there is not an approved exit plan from the motel to the streets, unless I want to cycle the wrong way on the highway for about 1/2 mile. 

I’m in the Howard Johnsons Newark. I have checked in. I can check out. But I can never leave.

Tomorrow, I have to figure out my exit strategy. I am hoping no violence will be required but simple negotiations and a few green bills will be all that’s necessary to keep the peace. 

New Jersey: impress me for the rest of my time in your beautiful coastal state. But get me out of Newark. Please.

And did I mention?

I LOVE NEW YORK!!!!