Footloose in NYC

If a tourist wishes to be a part of New York City, he or she has to learn to walk great lengths to get around.

I soon realise that the streets are so well planned, with the Eastern and Western sections clearly demarcated, that it is impossible to get lost. Within a couple of days of heading out on my own with the intent of getting my bearings, my overly-anxious host-couple stop stressing about my getting lost and pronounce me a “New Yorker”! The city is so vibrant and with all the different museums and art galleries, there is never a dull moment.

Museum musings

My sightseeing starts with a visit to the 9/11 Memorial Museum, an imposing structure, filled with poignant memories. Whilst the Memorial outside can be accessed for longer hours, the museum has strict timings. I join the queue of early birds, who are admitted on the dot at 9 am. I have to undergo a flurry of security checks akin to airline travel, or perhaps even stricter, as no food is allowed inside. It is amusing to see people standing outside the entry point, downing their food and drink, before stepping in. Hesitantly, I offer my banana chips to those around me and they actually accept and bite into the stuff, soon going into raptures over the taste. One of the security guards, comes to me, folds his hands together and says “Namaste”. He says he has added to his vocabulary, just by being on duty here, and can manage a smattering of Hindi.

The exhibition area is divided into three parts: the Day of 9/11, Before 9/11 and After 9/11. There is a section called In Memoriam, which honours all those who lost their lives on September 11, 2001 and February 26, 1993 (the previous bombing of the World Trade Centre). There is also a massive room, which houses the slurry wall and the last column, that at one point seemed invincible.

As I wander around from room to room, I am privy to pictures, audio-visual displays, personal belongings including bloodstained shoes and clothes, the last calls made to and by the victims and a video recreation of the trajectory of Flight 93, whose occupants force their way and crash the plane. In a span of three hours, I am able to recreate the horror of the event, after which I can take it no more and just rush out into the sunshine.

Next I decide to take the subway to the Natural History Museum, which is so well-planned that from the train stop, there is a flight of steps, which takes me straight into one of the Museum entrances. While some of the rooms have special exhibitions with additional tickets to be bought, the rest of the Museum is accessible with just one entry ticket. The nicest thing out here is that the ticket is tourist-friendly because you get to choose what you want to pay. As I read the board, I am still unsure, and am reassured only when the lady at the counter asks kindly, “How much do you want to pay?” Naturally, you have to make a reasonable choice, even while your mind is doing the dollar to rupee conversion!

The Museum is an imposing building and the largest in the world. With 27 interconnected buildings, housing 45 permanent exhibition halls and a planetarium and library to boot, there is so much to see that the mind boggles. Its collection goes beyond 32 million species of plants, animals, humans and human cultural artefacts etc, all of which cannot be displayed at the same time. Unhampered by a map, I just go where my feet take me, clicking photographs along the way. When my phone buzzes, I take a break for a lunch programme with an old Bangalorean, who is now a New Yorker.

Thanks to this friend, I land with a pass for the Museum of Metropolitan Art, located in Mid-Town Manhattan. Again, the collection here is unbelievably large. Fortunately, I manage to see the best paintings, which include Pablo Picasso, Andy Warhol, Frida Kahlo, Henri Matisse, Salvador Dali and Paul Cezanne, whilst actually clicking some of them in the midst of others who are busy taking selfies! I notice a lot of Asians on security duty and chat with some of them hailing from Bangladesh.

Local colours

On one of my longest walks, from West 88th to East 42nd, I have interesting encounters. I stop at a cart selling hats. Its owner makes a sudden appearance from nowhere. He has a name which could be mistaken for someone from Goa but he actually turns out to be from Bangladesh. Happy that I can converse in his tongue, he insistently presses a ‘Made in India’ stole and a pair of mittens on me as a gift, while I buy a summer hat, which I need for the next leg of my journey. Another encounter on that walk is with a Trinidadian of Indian origin. He shares the story of his grandmother, who is taken as indentured labour from India and who names her daughter Gangajal, as she delivers on the boat, during the journey. I am glad that I took that long walk.

New York is certainly a gastronomic paradise, and there is multicultural cuisine on offer including for vegetarians. I sample Italian food and the most exciting vegetarian sushi at Beyond Sushi. Watching the whole process is like seeing an artist creating a masterpiece, and once the stuff comes to your table, it disappears in no time.

The other memorable visit is the one to Bryant Park, where I sit on a bench and browse through the many classics placed on shelves there. There is a section for books and magazines and a librarian who sits under a little umbrella. You are not allowed to take the books out and the librarian tells me, “You can come back again tomorrow and read the rest of the book!” Bryant Park has the New York public library in the background, and is cited as the best example of a public-private partnership in the city.

One cannot speak of New York and miss out on Broadway. For me, the icing on the cake is a viewing of Dr Zhivago, on the day before I leave town. Despite the main actor being replaced by his understudy on that day, I am amazed at the standard of the production, including the child actors. The auditorium is imposing, the acoustics great, and Dr Zhivago bears a striking resemblance to Omar Sharif from the film version. My cup of joy brims over.