Movin' on up: from Downtown to the Bronx

This morning we shipped out early to Liberty and Ellis Islands. Neither of us had ever been, so our expectations weren't too high--a good thing when you don't want to be disappointed. We walked from our hotel to Battery Park, which, over the years, has become a rather beautiful place. We were then subjected to airport-riddled security. The removal of belts and watches, the opening of bags, and the like. We have become experts in traveling light and practical for this very reason. Once through various stages of checkpoints, we boarded the ferry. The 15-minute ferry ride from Battery Park to Liberty Island was rather peaceful at 9:00 on a Friday morning. The boat wasn't too crowded, and the view of lower Manhattan was somewhat comforting in a way I never thought possible.

As we got closer to the Statue of Liberty, I noticed that she was much smaller than I had anticipated. This did not disappoint me, as I knew I felt this way only because I had recently been palace and castle hopping in the French countryside, and I had climbed to the top of the Eiffel Tour (most notably the tallest structure I have ever encountered thus far). Though are Lady of Liberty was smaller in stature, I felt the immense power of her symbolism. A gift from the French in 1886, this statue not only represents a friendship between the two nations that was established after the American Revolution (France boasts their own smaller Lady Liberty at the base of one of the bridges crossing the Seine River, but she pales in comparison to ours), but it has come to stand for freedom as it was the first glimpse of just that as immigrants poured into the United States looking for change--for freedom.

She's made from a sheathing of copper that is hung on a framework of steel, and she has been closed to visitors since 2001. Lucky for us, she has recently been reopened, and we secured tickets to the top of the Crown. Just to note, climbing up to the torch has ceased since 1918. The climb is 354 steps, and it is a small, cramped hull up a double spiral staircase (da Vinci, anyone?) that barely fits an average-sized person. I like to think this makes the experience unique and exciting. Once in the Crown, there is about 10 feet of space, and a very low ceiling. Nonetheless, I'd climb up again. Climbing down was the interesting part--the steps are fairly steep and it seemed to work better if we climbed down backwards.

Our next stop was Ellis Island to look in the immigration records for our family members. For just $5, we gained access to a computer for 30 minutes in the immigration museum, where we could research our family history. I found information on my great grandfather who came over from Italy, but Josh had less luck. We were unable to find the records of his great grandparents who came over from Russia.

We spent the rest of the day milling about downtown Manhattan. We strolled over to Wall Street, went to the New York City Police Museum, and South Street Seaport. At the seaport, we discovered Bodies...the Exhibition. So, I'm not quite sure what I thought this was going to be like, but it was oddly fascinating, and a little bit scary. The exhibit consisted of well-preserved human bodies and body parts, carefully dissected and labeled. There were skeletal bodies, muscular bodies, bodies consisting of nerves, and some even of veins and arteries. Diseased or failing organs were encased in glass cases: a cancerous lung, a colitis-damaged colon, an infected thyroid, and so much more. Science meets reality at this exhibit in a frightening way.


Our last stop for the day was the Bronx. After our excursions downtown, we headed back to the room for our baseball gear. We took the number 4 up to Yankee Stadium--I in my Posada shirt, and Josh in his Pedroia. The new stadium, on a plot of land right across the street from the old, sparkled and gleamed from the subway platform. It was so clean, so new. As we settled into our seats, I glanced around at all the high-tech additions, and couldn't help but feel as if this stadium were a fraud. It has no history. The old Yankee stadium may be dingier, but it holds decades and decades of baseball history within its walls. The new stadium is in desperate need for iconic baseball moments, then, maybe, it will feel right.

As the game started, we realized we were in for a star-studded night: Muhammad Ali was there to receive a special award, and we caught glimpses of Bruce Willis, Rudy Giuliani, and Paul Simon. The game was a massacre (I won't highlight the score, for the sake of my husband), but boy was I glad the boys from the Bronx won.

Inspiration, by way of Brooklyn

Upon our arrival in NYC last night, we checked in to our hotel in downtown Manhattan, only to realize that we were right next to the WTC site. We quickly unpacked, washed up, and headed out to explore the city.

It didn't surprise me that as we passed the WTC construction site the events of 9/11 came rushing back into my mind. It's a day no American will ever forget; a day that is still remembered on a daily basis, not only by New Yorkers, but by all that pay tribute to the fallen heroes and those who survived. As we headed toward Wall Street, we noticed a touching bronze memorial intricately created onto the side of the local firehouse. I couldn't get it out of my mind that those men must have been the first to reach the site that fateful day. Many people, natives and foreigners, were there. They were praying. They were paying tribute. They were leaving gifts, flowers, for those who made the ultimate sacrifice: life.

At first, upon close inspection of the memorial, which is artistically divided into three sections, it bothered me that the middle section depicted the burning towers. This was, perhaps, due to the fact that on September 11, 2001, I was still so foolishly naive to think that such an atrocity could ever occur on American soil. To say the least, I was deeply affected the day those towers came down; in a way, it was the first loss of my childhood innocence--my first brush with adult bitterness and inexplicable heartache.

Initially we had headed out for the Brooklyn Bridge, and though that was still our primary destination, I felt as though I was weighted down. As we crossed through City Park and passed Pace University, I caught my first glimpse of the old bridge. A marvel in its time, it gave me a sense of hope, reinstilled my pride and faith in our great nation (it's no wonder I want my Ph.D. in American Studies). Seeing the American flag flying high above the two architecturally articulate support beams made me feel better. I thought about all the immigrants who walked across this very bridge I was crossing; how this bridge not only represented their freedom, but how it represented the creativity and ingenious of the American mindset.


We arrived in Brooklyn just as the sun was setting, and we realized that we were somewhat ravenous. We headed down to Grimaldi's, waited in what I consider a short line (all the way down the block) for an hour, and then feasted on the most perfect pizza. The meal was quick, but thoroughly appreciated. The old man, overly tan and perfectly Italian, who was in charge of seating parties asked us if we enjoyed ourselves, and I was quick to admit that we did not have pizza like this where we're from. He was kind enough not to give us too much heat for quietly admitting we're from Boston.

By the time we left it was dark. The walk back over the bridge was just amazing. The moon was full, the city lights bright. The weight I had felt earlier in the evening had lifted. This is a city full of life; a city with pride; a city that will never forget, but that will never fall. I am New York.

Niagara-on-the-Lake

So, I read the New York Times every day of my life, and I definitely am in the habit of scouting out articles written about travel. That is how I stumbled upon the sweet town of Niagara-on-the-Lake. The name itself seemed to beckon me (it reminded me of Fond-du-Lac, Wisconsin; setting for Seventeenth Summer and hometown to author Maureen Daly), so I convinced Josh to explore the area with me.

Well, that was a good decision on my part.

I'm not sure if this is common knowledge, or what, but I somehow missed the information in my 27-plus years of living: Niagara-on-the-Lake strikingly resembles Napa Valley (in my mind, that is, as I have not been to Napa Valley--wait for blogs from that trip to appear approximately one year from now). Two main roads, Niagara Stone and Niagara Parkway, are home to miles upon miles of vineyards and wineries. The product: icewine.

One of the most beautiful areas I have seen in quite some time (not including the South of France) is home to the mass production of icewine. We toured a few wineries, took pictures, tasted the harvests, and moseyed around.

A few things we learned:
• Canada produces approximately 85%-90% of the world's icewine
• icewine has a much more syrupy texture than any red or white
• it is also a dessert wine (drizzle on pound cake or ice cream)
• grapes must be frozen solid before picking in order to make icewine
• the amount of sugar in icewine gives it a longer shelf life (it naturally preserves!)
• one winery we went to, Pillitteri, produces (alone) 20% of said 85%-90% of icewine coming from this region in Canada
• Dan Akroyd is a wino (!)
• he partnered up with 20 Bees (a fantastic little winery), using the grapes they harvest and selling his wine (and using his name) for good, honest business
• the fine people of Ontario can only purchase alcohol through two government-regulated warehouses
• going through customs here, as opposed to Niagara Falls, is much less of a hassle; especially when trying to bring alcohol back into the United States

Gimme a gimmick, eh?

Though the view of the Falls (especially the Horseshoe Falls) is worth the frustrating wait through customs to get out of Ontario, and back to the States, we couldn't believe the amount of gimmicky tourist traps that lay waiting for us on Clifton Hill in Canada.

Parents beware: this is a teenage haven.

Here are some of my favorite pics; branded, gimmicky conglomerates.

Niagara Falls by day, part 2

It's impossible to fully understand the capacity and magnificence of the Falls if you don't take the time to view them from both of the countries they straddle. So, we made the journey over to Canada. We cleared customs rather quickly, parked the car, and took the tram down to the Horseshoe Falls. The tram, a $2 investment (Canadian), is amazing; it seems silly, but it really provides a great view of the Falls. After disembarking, we headed over to the Horseshoe, and all I can say is that this is exactly what the journey to the Falls is all about. Whether or not it's American or Canadian, this natural structure is beyond comparison. You have to see it to fully understand. I'm not even sure I can do this phenomenon justice with any words. Just take a look at some of Josh's photographs (seen here). We were lucky and had glorious sun this particular day, and, apparently, it is quite usual for sunny days to result in a fully arched rainbow from the middle of Niagara River, right to the base of Horseshoe Falls. What a gorgeous sight!

Side note: 17 people have willingly gone over the Horseshoe Falls; 10 have lived to talk about it.

Niagara Falls by day, part 1

Walking along the Niagara River in Niagara Falls State Park, I wasn't sure quite what to expect. I'd always wanted to go to the Falls, but my visual had been somewhat skewed for years. I do this, sometimes; I conjure up an image in my mind that is undoubtedly inaccurate, and not necessarily for better or worse, just different. Josh had been years ago, but was having a difficult time actually remembering what they looked like. This is what happens. The mind, whether it knows something or not, has a silly little way of playing tricks on you.

We had arrived to the American state park around 10:30 in the morning, still nervous that there might be a potential thunderstorm brewing, but nonetheless, we forged ahead.

A brief history: The falls are divided into two sections that straddle the American/Canadian border. They were formed at the tail end of the last ice age, Wisconsin glaciation, when glaciers receded, forming the gorge. Water from the newly-fashioned Great Lakes (i.e., Erie and Ontario) carved a path through an area known as the Niagara Escarpment on its way to the Atlantic Ocean. Though the falls are not the highest in the world, they are exceptionally wide. The American Falls and Bridal Veil Falls (separated only by Luna Island) face Canada from New York's international border. The Canadian Falls, or Horseshoe Falls (appropriately named), are separated from American territory by Goat Island. It is reported that nearly six million cubic feet of water comes crashing down from the crest of the falls every minute. But I digress.

We wandered down the promenade, and to our left the American Falls suddenly appeared. The American Falls are intimidating in an unusual way; they aren't that impressive as far as the beauty of waterfalls goes, but the monstrous rocks that are strewn about at the base of the falls leaves you with a mildly uneasy feeling--like it would be a bad situation to go over that particular set of falls. Not to mention that the intensity of a landslide, or erosion, occurring on a yearly basis is somewhat astronomical in its own right. I was intrigued to say the least. Josh already had his tripod set up and was instructing me how and where to pose. The spray tickled our noses, and we saw the impressive Canadian side from the walkway. We walked around for an hour or so, enjoyed the major attractions (Maid of the Mist and Cave of the Wind, where, I withstood the power of the waterfall from Hurricane Deck), and were mostly thankful that it hadn't rained.

It was a pretty magnificent site. I could only hope that once we got to Canada to see the full horseshoe, that we would be even more impressed; speechless, or at the very least, in awe of Mother Nature.

KOA is A-OK

(The title of my post will most likely amuse only those in the profession of words, i.e., editors, linguists, and English teachers/professors.)

We stayed at the Niagara Falls KOA for our pseudo-camping trip and fell in love with our cozy little cabin. A good friend of mine introduced me to the organization of campgrounds, and I couldn't wait to secure my own little cabin. Not to mention, I now have my very own KOA Rewards Card, which I plan to reap the benefits of on many more camping trips.

By the time we reached our local KOA, it was almost 7 o'clock at night, and it had been pouring rain for too many hours. We were tired, hungry, beat up, and wanted nothing more than to sit down and relax. Odd, I know, that we would want to sit after being cooped up in an SUV for nearly 10 hours, but that's a different kind of sitting--really.

As Josh drove over to 798, I instantly fell in love. Not only was our cabin simple and sweet, but it had its very own porch swing. Josh and I quickly unloaded the car, placing our belongings carefully in the tidy little abode, and retired to the porch for the evening. We sat, sheltered from the rain and thunder, not doing much of anything.

We ended up looking forward to returning to the cabin each night. It was just so peaceful, and perfect.

Cobleskill's secret

If roadside America weren't enough to quench my thirst for good old-fashioned fun, I was surely content when we found a natural wonder slightly off the beaten path. Not too far from Route 20 we ventured into the small town of Cobleskill. Above ground, it fits the stereotyped rural town, lacking evidence of any booming industry.

Below ground, however, is where the fun begins. Josh and I found ourselves descending 103 steps into a natural cave 115 feet below the Earth's surface. Wow! As we strolled along the 1/4-mile pathway through the cave, we were able to see fossils of marine life from a lake that existed once upon a time, the natural erosion of classified rocks (including limestone, some of which, due to water seeping in from the Earth's surface above, formed a convincingly slimy but honestly smooth surface of calcite), and plenty of stalagmites and stalactites.

Squeezing through narrow passageways and hovering low for a few suspended ceilings, we became instant fans of spelunking (exploring a cave with only a flashlight). The real treat came at the end of our hike when we found ourselves standing, mouths agape at a 100-foot waterfall plummeting down from the Earth's surface into this cave, and meeting up with an underground river that led to yet another cave down the road, with more force than a speedboat with unrelenting horsepower.

I was so excited about this secret find; imagine my reaction once we reached Niagara Falls.

Roadside treasures

Though we did experience extreme precipitation, I wanted to take a minute to describe the beauty of upstate New York; unlike its counterpart to the south, upstate New York is filled with vast fields and amazingly well-kept farms. I'm sure I have never seen so many silos in a 100-meter radius. Even in the fog, pouring rain, and menacing clouds, the rolling hills and grassy meadows were a refreshing sight. I was thrilled at the amount of cows, horses, sheep, and buffalo we saw as we trolled along the Oregon Trail--I felt a very mild kinship to Lewis and Clark.

Other than natural beauty, the roadside offered a glimpse of old small-town America--something I find myself increasingly attracted to--and its many treasures. We stumbled upon The TePee in Cherry Valley, which has been attracting travelers since the early 1950s. In it: amazing Indian crafts, quirky gadgets, and delicious Indian taffy.

If you ever find yourself in the area and want to take a look around the family-run TePee, make sure you try the "hot shot." It's a real zinger!

Rainy roadtrip

After trekking around France for two weeks this past spring without a notebook or a laptop, I have come to realize that I must document any and all excursions that I embark on. So, since we planned a trip for this holiday weekend, I figured it'd be a great place to start.

We left for Niagara Falls around 8 o'clock this morning, spending most of our journey below pelting raindrops (note the photo over the Hudson River bridge) and the darkest storm clouds I have ever seen. Now, I know the Hudson Valley and Adirondacks are well known for their impeccable sunsets, and gorgeously pink and purple skies, but I'd like it known that they, too, have black skies, and they are not cool.


We did manage, however, to get a bit off the beaten path (I-90); we explored a 3-hour section of the Oregon Trail (Rte. 20 in upstate New York, if you're interested). My next post will highlight my two favorite stops. For now, just know that we arrived safely to Grand Island.