On a cold, wet, and blustery day, we left our hotel room in New Jersey shortly after daybreak for a subway ride under the Hudson River to the Christopher Street station and a walk around Greenwich Village, or “The Village” as it is known in these parts. Breakfast was at Manatus, a Greek cafe on Bleeker Street open 24/7.

We caught the major tourist attractions on our trip to New York City with the mother-in-law back in May and so this trip was more about familiarizing ourselves with the textures, layers, patterns, and atmosphere of the City. Just around the corner from our breakfast joint, we saw the world-famous Stonewall Inn. Back in 1969, the Stonewall Riots took place after this gay bar was raided, and the gay community, tired of the harassment, banded together in protest. It was here that the modern gay rights movement is considered to have begun.

Patchin Place, where the poet EE Cummings once lived, as did Marlon Brando.

I suppose this is as good a spot as any to explain something about this post, just as I have on the other blog posts around this date. When this day was first noted on my blog in 2009, there was only 1 photo and a paragraph of compressed events to capture the entire day. It’s now August 20, 2022, when I’ve returned to this entry, and I’ve added 37 other images from the day that had been languishing in hard drive storage oblivion. These things living in an unseen archive somewhere have no real value, and the fact is that it is on this blog that we most often revisit our memories. So, take this into account when you read about things that happened after 2009.

As we walked through Greenwich Village, we did so without a map or guidebook as we were looking to aimlessly wander around. When something caught our eye, we followed the impulse to know more and headed over. This time to Washington Square Park.

Fire Patrol House #2 at 84 West 3rd Street in Greenwich Village, which is now the private home of journalist Anderson Cooper.

Look closely, and you too can see the madness behind those eyes that scream, “I want it all!” Come to think about it, while I alluded to a kind of randomness of our meandering through the area, it was probably the existence of this yarn store called Purl Soho at 459 Broome Street that is the main reason for our day beginning in this part of New York City.

The common sites that are overly familiar to a resident of New York City are exotic to the eyes that don’t take for granted the things they rarely see in person. Wrought-iron staircases only exist in movies unless one is fortunate enough to be visiting this amazing place.

Lunch was at Yatagan Kebab House on MacDougal Street (today it’s Berlin Doner), where they serve authentic Doner Kebab – my first in 14 years since leaving Europe!

Could any other city on earth really aspire to be anything like New York? This place is a reflection of a country exploding economically with the industrial revolution when capital was being deployed into all corners of a vast country. Necessity demanded that those who were behind the scenes had the tools and services to work fast to catapult the United States into the future. I wonder if that will ever return to our shores and/or mindsets.

I don’t believe there’s a corner in this enormous city that doesn’t hold something of interest for those who are exploring, even the dark, ugly stuff one might want to avoid.

Somewhere between SoHo, Little Italy, and Nolita, we were heading towards Chinatown.

Somehow, it all makes sense when you are down in it.

Statue for Lin Zexu, hero of the First Opium Wars. Seems like a strange thing to find here on the streets of New York.

The Brooklyn Bridge that we walked across on a beautiful spring day in May with Jutta (my mother-in-law).

This city is high intensity, with a barrage of non-stop stimulation always assaulting you, and while my photos can share some of the visual density, I can do nothing about the cacophony of noise and torrents of aromas.

A seriously determined New Yorker moving over a well-worn track. I can only wonder if he notices much of the chaos that surrounds him at every intersection and in every step he takes on streets that seemed intimately familiar to him.

English-only speakers need not apply.

An Obama voter expressing his patriotism.

I can’t remember why the Nom Wah Tea Parlor wasn’t open. The sign in the window explained things, but I didn’t photograph it, and in looking up the location in 2022, I see that it’s still in business and taking reservations. This old joint has been serving dim sum and dumplings since 1920.

I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to bring myself to eat chicken head, even if it’s a succulent golden color with a yummy-looking comb.

This is the look of, “Not thrilled with this stuff.” Tried a random place in Chinatown for an early dinner that failed to satisfy and will require a little something later in the night.

Dragon cake was NOT that little something.

Nor a big bag of fruit, for that matter, but it sure is great walking busy streets that are teeming with life on a Sunday night.

Daylight was coming to an end, so we started hoofing it over Bowery Avenue and some random side streets.

Our general direction was towards Midtown for some of that indulgence on exuberance.

This wasn’t the only establishment we saw that was offering papaya drinks. While it might have been trending in New York City, it wasn’t something we ever saw in any other city across America…not that we are in them all simultaneously, but hopefully, you get the idea.

Walking into the Chelsea area of Manhattan, we came across The New York Savings Bank in one of its brief moments when it wasn’t serving some other purpose, such as a carpet and rug shop or a CVS Pharmacy. Across the street is another historic bank building about which I can’t find any information.

Rainbows & Triangles was a gay gift shop in Chelsea, but like so much of NYC, rising rents clear out diversity on the never-ending quest for total gentrification.

I love the idea of New York City even in its current incarnation.

Wow, what an iconic place, the Chelsea Hotel. I probably first learned of the Chelsea from reading Interview magazine by Andy Warhol as I was interested in The Factory and all things William Burroughs, Gregory Corso, Jack Kerouac, and Allen Ginsberg. But it was when Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols was suspected of killing his girlfriend here that the place was cemented into my head. Maybe someday we’ll stay here, but I think that would ruin part of the allure of what it was to my imagination.

Into Times Square for a slice of pizza at Famous Famiglia with a proverbial dessert of standing around and gawking like our fellow tourists.

Join the crowd in order to better gawk at whatever comes along.

Pizza, crowds, street vendors, graffiti, and taxis.

Not to forget the lights of the big city.

Part of our gawking regimen requires us to allow our inner tourist to be fully recognized by looking above, an NYC “no-no” if you want to blend in.

Another nod to my teenage formative years that this image brings me to are the wet streets reflecting the diffused lights of the signs; this will forever have me remembering Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver with Robert De Niro.

And with that, we return to our hotel. Tomorrow, we’ll embark on another adventure right here in New York Harbor.