Letter from New York

FIRST GLIMPSE OF NEW YORK

Our Boltbus dropped us 15 blocks short of our New York hotel. As usual, we walked it, dodging through the crowds and pulling our suitcases behind us. We were travelling light. Over the bedlam of voices came the impatient honking of motorists and the wail of sirens, a background noise that hung over the city.

Our route took us via Times Square. It may not be the heart of the city but it's certainly the heart of the heave – with the garishness of Picadilly Circus married to the bustle of Trafalgar Square. The approach roads were lined with police cars. There were police on foot, police on horses, police on motorcycles and police just sitting around – dozens and dozens of them. We surmised that this heavy presence was related to the recent attempt to set off a car bomb in the vicinity.

Our hotel was just around the corner. Like everyone else in central Manhattan we found space at a premium. Instead of the comfortable room we'd enjoyed in Washington, we were directed to a depressing rabbit hutch overlooking a central courtyard. Fortunately, the air conditioning didn't function and I insisted on another room. This proved to be fractionally larger with a a small desk and a view of the city. The downside was a back-busting mattress on the bed. Rather than complain again, I slept on the floor.

Our first move in New York was to obtain an 80-dollar city pass. This entitles the holder to a 3-hour boat ride around Manhattan and a discounted visit to 5 of the city's main attractions. The boat ride was really instructive. We passed close by Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, saw where the World Trade Centre had stood, passed by the UN building and were able to place Brooklyn, Queens and the Bronx on the far side of the river – names we'd heard and read a thousand times.

Of course we had to go up the Empire State building. I forget whether the high speed elevators took us to the 80th or 90th floor but it was the top of the world with views half way around America. The country was preparing to celebrate Memorial Day and a fleet of warships was sailing up the Hudson to mark the occasion.

A constant stream of visitors poured out of the elevators and jostled for space on the viewing deck. Seeing New York from the Empire State building is a tourist industry on its own. We were glad we'd arrived early.

As in Washington, our focus was on New York's museums and galleries. We gave ourselves a couple of hours and a target in each. One could easily spend a week in both the Metropolitan and the Natural History Museum and still have much to see.

One afternoon we walked the two miles home via Central Park, sharing it with horse-drawn carriages, cyclists, roller-bladers, joggers, baseball players and courting couples as well as a great many birds and squirrels. With its numerous wilderness areas, Central Park reminded me more of the great park in Berlin than London's Hyde Park. We crossed its roads with care. New York cyclists demonstrated the same contempt for the red traffic lights (intended to assist pedestrians) as cyclists do in other parts of the world.

One of our targets was the Guggenheim. We arrived with less than an hour to closing. An attendant advised us to take a lift to the top floor and then to wind our way down the spiral walkway. I was disappointed by the display of pictures, photos and videos. Most had to be explained to make any sense; and the explanations were inevitably couched in language quite unfathomable to the layman. With just a few minutes to go to closing, I came across a side gallery with a wealth of Picassos and impressionist works. I ran to fetch Jones who was listening to an audio guide some distance away. For those alone the visit was worth it.

Each evening we would head around the corner to Times Square; it was like being part of both the cast and the audience of a show. The faces and languages came from all over the world. Hundreds of young US sailors, both men and women, were also present, obviously enjoying shore leave from their ships anchored in the Hudson.

Many wore ribbons that I attributed to action in one of America's recent conflicts. In the supermarket where we bought our supper groceries, I encountered an American man thanking two young women in uniform for their service to the country, and insisting on paying for their purchases. It's easy to forget that the United States is still at war on the far side of the world.

We left New York as we had arrived, trailing our suitcases down the pavement. Our immediate destination was Penn Station, some 15 blocks from the hotel. Fortunately we had given ourselves lots of time. Penn Station is a nightmare for a newcomer. We entered the station on the Amtrak side and needed the assistance of three different policemen to find our way through busy, twisting halls to the area where the much smaller New Jersey Transit service operated.

Having obtained tickets for the journey to Princeton, where we were to meet Bevan, we waited with lots of other passengers in a central departure area to learn what platform we'd be leaving from. This was announced 10 minutes before departure. The crowd immediately funnelled through a door and downstairs to the platform - pushing and pulling, shoving and squeezing through the narrow passage. Somehow we made it, suitcases and all. Soon the high-rise Manhattan skyline gave way to the green fields of New Jersey. Bye bye New York. You were something else.