10 Jan |
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Who would have thought that discovering humble mosaics would be one of the most memorable moments of my all-too-short visit to New York City? I was expecting many things from my trip to the Big Apple. Towering skyscrapers, brusque New Yorkers, corn beef on rye sandwiches, ubiquitous yellow cabs. Shards of tile, however, were far from my mind.  And yet it’s mosaics, dotted across the East Village like breadcrumbs left by an artistic Hansel, that seem to catch my eye at every turn. “See the mosaic of the beaver, up there in the eaves?” asks Andrea, pointing to the ceiling of the Astor Street subway stop. “You could say New York was built on beaver fur; it was one of the exports that made the early Dutch traders fabulously wealthy. You’ll see that beaver motif all over New York.” And Andrea should know. As a New York local (although she now lives over the East River in Brooklyn) she knows the city backwards and is one of the extraordinary volunteers with an organisation called Big Apple Greeter. Offered as a service to New York visitors, a ‘Greet’ – offered free of charge – pairs tourists up with a local who will show them the city for a few hours. It’s a visit, not a tour; so don’t expect a head full of facts and figures. Instead, you’ll get to know a small slice of the city, understand how the subway works and peek under the covers of some of New York’s multi-faceted neighbourhoods. As we climb the subway steps out into the bright autumn sunlight of Astor Place there’s more public art on offer. A five-square-metre black steel cube known as ‘Alamo’, sculpted by artist Tony Rosenthal, has been perched on one corner here since the ‘60s and dominates Astor Place, named for 18th-century beaver-magnate John Jacob Astor. But it’s the rubbish bin next to it that catches my eye. And then the lamppost. And the road-sign across the street. Each of them intricately decorated in a tapestry of pottery shards, glass and mosaics. “These are all done by Jim Power, a homeless artist who has been in the area for years,” explains Andrea. “I was hoping he’d be around here today, but…” she trails off. Carefully themed to their surroundings, Power’s mosaic murals commemorate everything from the 9/11 attacks to rock gods from the ‘60s; the latter on a lamppost outside where the legendary Fillmore East concert hall used to stand. Jimi Hendrix and The Who may well have had a few pints at McSorley’s Old Ale House around the corner on East 7th Street. Opened in 1854, just three families have owned it in its 150-year history and today you’ll still find sawdust scattered on the floor and an apronned barman pulling pints. But it’s too early for a drink, so we keep walking. Up one block to St. Mark’s Place, where St. Mark’s Comic Shop holds thousands of vintage comics and every action figurine you could ask for. It’s heaven on earth for adults who never left their childhood behind. Across the block is Trash & Vaudeville, a glam-punk clothing store that resolutely refuses to leave the ‘70s. “We used to have some wild times in the Village. I used to shop there,” Andrea says a laugh. “Now my daughter does!” This schizophrenic mish-mash of cultures and cliques is typical of the East Village, a suburb of immigrants where cultures mingled and merged. European Jews were first, Germans followed and when they left the Ukrainians, hippies and beat-poets moved in. Veselka, a 24-hour Ukrainian restaurant on Second Avenue, has become one of lower Manhattan’s most popular diners. New Yorkers flock here from across the city for a plate of pierogis; steamed (or fried) Hungarian dumplings filled with anything from spicy rocket to sweet pumpkin. We wander back down Second Avenue and Andrea pulls me into the Gem Spa, a legendary café serving a Manhattan institution. ‘Egg Cream’ contains neither – it’s a curious mix of syrup, soda water and milk – but is as New York as corn beef on rye. And there is no better place to sample the quintessential New York sandwich than the Lower East Side; the spiritual home of the deli. The pavements are buzzing as we walk to the area where hundreds of thousands of Jewish immigrants crowded into tenements in the late-1800s. Although many of them prospered and moved on, they left behind a legacy of fabulous bakeries, delis and restaurants. It’s impossible to ignore Katz’s Deli on East Houston Street; home to the city’s most celebrated Corn Beef on Rye sandwiches and made famous in ‘When Harry met Sally’. A sign with “I’ll have what she’s having” still hangs over the ‘orgasm’ table today. It’s a cheerful, no-frills place filled with gawking tourists and hungry locals. A few doors down, the family-owned Russ & Daughters deli has been open since 1914, “and we still get customers coming in who’ve been shopping here for the past 60 years,” a smiling Nicky Russ tells me over a counter brimming with kosher goodies. The typically Jewish deli is an ‘appetizing’ store and sells only fish, dairy and baked goods. The closest you’ll get to meat is a ‘pastrami-spiced salmon’, one of a dozen varieties of cured salmon on offer. Along with wonderful cream cheese and fresh-baked bagels it’s the perfect place to stock up for a picnic. And where better to enjoy it than a few subway stops across town on the newly opened Highline Park. Where Central Park is spacious, lush and an escape from the city, the Highline embraces the cityscape of Chelsea. Landscaped on an abandoned elevated-railway track, the Highline runs for about 10 blocks (with another 10 in the pipeline) to the old Meatpacking District where butcher’s yards and warehouses are being transformed into chi-chi boutiques and top-end restaurants. It’s been 25 years since the last train trundled along these tracks, but clever landscaping with hardy grasses and indigenous shrubs, and the addition of sleek concrete walkways and wooden benches, has turned this derelict railway into the city’s most exciting open space. And perhaps that’s why I fell in love with New York. It’s a bright and brash metropolis that is home to some of the world’s greatest architecture and art galleries, yet cares enough to give a set of old railway tracks a new lease on life. Family-owned delis last for generations, vacant lots transform into community gardens, and simple lampposts become works of art. The Highline and Jim Power’s street-art may be overshadowed by Central Park and the Guggenheim, but even in the Big Apple small things matter. A little like those mosaics. TRAVEL TIPS
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