Notes and photographs about New York

We took the last bus from Montreal around midnight. With stops in Albany and the American border, we were in Manhattan by nine o'clock in the morning. The weather was balmy but grey, and we thought the forecasts had belied us, but by midday, the clouds opened up and sun poured onto to the city. After a delicious breakfast, we walked uptown to Central park, saw the Met, and decided we would walk to our hostel at 129th street and Madison. For 20$, we got a clean bed and free breakfast, and it gave us a chance to see Harlem. There is something sinister about crossing the 110th street divide. There is such a clean break from the awnings and doormen on 5th avenue to the corner shops and streets vendors of Malcolm X boulevard. As a Canadian from a homogeneously white suburb, there is a quick realization that you don't know the true meaning of the word "uptown," at least not as it's connoted in any New Yorker's vocabulary. Uptown means black and tenements owned by the city. It means that nobody gives you attitude, just friendly directions. After a quick stop at the hostel, we headed back downtown and spent time on Broadway. Walking just for the sake of walking was great, but if I hadn't been with Leandra and Sylvia, I would have probably found and old tenspeed somewhere and biked from sunrise to sunset. It seems, though, that Montreal has a much larger bike per capita ratio. I got the impression that a majority of the people on bikes in New York were cycling because it was their job. The obvious profession there is bike messengering, but there is also a shocking amount of food delivered on two wheels citywide. It makes sense. With comparatively little snowfall in the winter and extreme traffic congestion, nobody gets around faster that cyclists. Fixed gears are everywhere, but again, most are for professional use. This also makes sense in the city because there are no hills, ever - Manhattan is flat like a bad pint. The few who have fixed gears as a pure novelty often leave their two-thousand-dollar track bikes locked in front of the coffee shops they frequent for people like me to gawk at them like pornography. It's so gauche to drive a car in the city. The next day was spent in Brooklyn eating an incredible lunch and mingling with our young counterparts. Williamsburg is a fine place to catch up on trends and to be judged by the hip Brooklyn elite. I also wanted to visit Bed-Stuy to see if I could find Radio Raheem, but that didn't happen. I guess we spent our time much more wisely. Our day ended rather quietly on the lawn in Central Park collecting our thoughts and reviewing our photographs. Our last cab ride took us to the Port Authority where we embarked on a cold Greyhound set for Montreal. All in all, it was a great weekend and we had some good times. Things about New York in point form: New Yorkers speak funny. Instead of "I can't believe you ran over my bike!" it goes something like "How you gon' go ahead and run over my shit like that." Wine Warehouse on Broadway sells wine bottles for $3.99. Nobody, and I mean nobody, knows anything about Montreal or Canada, or even that Montreal is in Canada. Harlem is a great neighborhood and anyone who tells you different is ignorant. Watch out for the express subway trains. You could be at 42nd street and next thing you know you're in fucking Kansas. Don't eat in Little Italy. It's a big scam and the waiters are Eastern European assholes. Don't block the box.

129th and Madison. Our hostel can be seen to the middle-right. SoHo. The architecture is great. Waiters from a place called Sweetypie that sells 75$ sundaes.