Sunday, June 23, 2013

Arrived in Hudson Street

After a last breakfast at Di Bruno's in Philadelphia, we checked out of the Sofitel at 9.00am and after a short cab ride to the 30th Street Station immediately got the cheapest train ride to NYC that day (because there was no restaurant car) and arrived about 11.00am. The cabbie from Penn Station needed a bit of help to find the right part of Hudson Street, but when we arrived the owner's partner Rick was there to help us up the tiny stairs to the fifth floor.

Fifth floor, no lift. I will try to keep positive about the stairs!

Joe and Rick showed us around, and I filled him up with $20 notes - the rent had to be paid in advance in cash, but my only access to cash is via ATMs that dispense $20 notes. They "warned" us about the Gay Pride march next Sunday, and we confirmed that we were very happy to celebrate diversity and watch the fireworks. They suggested we check the newspaper over the 4th of July celebrations, which may include a boat and fireworks just a couple of blocks away.

Joe is a muscular, inked and macho-gay guy. He has a picture of younger Joe on the wall:

The apartment is snug, and oddly so. It's got all the mod cons apart from a clothes washer, but in an unusual layout. The lounge is pretty normal:

There's cable TV and wifi and all is good. However, the bathroom has the unusual feature that the toilet, sink and bath are all in a line and the bed is jammed into an alcove which is probably formed by the neighbour's closet.

There is a creepy, rusty fire escape that seems to me to be very New York. I can't presently figure how to get out the kitchen window to get onto it, nor what I'd have to do to descend. Let's not have a fire :-)

The street is busy, vibrant and under construction. Nearby, I was amused to see a petrol station opening with quite a bit of fanfare:

Just down the road is a Googleplex, across the road from the excellent Chelsea Markets. Lynda and I bought a lunch of lobster rolls (deem Homer Simpson drooling noise) and picked up some groceries. There are Faiveley burgundies on sale for $25, which is about the price I paid in 1977 in Perth. We chose exotica and interesting new things, and I was delighted to buy some fresh peas for my shelling pleasure.

We've dropped the washing off at (is this still correct?) a Chinese laundry. I have no idea what it will look like on return as we're paying by weight.

No comments:

Post a Comment