For the NY leg of our trip we decided to dispense with a
mobile because a basic connection would have cost us a 100 dollars, and what
did people do a decade ago when they travelled without cellphones? They
survived. So we made a few calls to family from our hotel to tell them we had
got to NY alright, and stepped out lightly every day, unencumbered (except for
the great big luggage train of a travelling circus that comprised Mia’s
things.). Our satisfaction at having gone back to Nature was somewhat tempered
on the day we had to meet Satarupa, my friend who was nice enough to take a 3-hour
bus ride from Baltimore and stay at a hostel in Manhattan, just to meet us.
The plan was simple enough, as thrashed out over the hotel
phone and email. We would meet outside the Staten Island Ferry terminal at 12.
By 12-10, we were looking hopefully at anyone Indian-like and female-looking.
By 12-15 we were muttering darkly about our lack of a phone; and what madness
it was to step out of the hotel without one. By 12-20, Jeet had jogged off to
the terminal in search of a payphone, while Mia and I continued to man our
posts in hope of contact. Not surprisingly at 12-21, Satarupa walked up to the
terminal, looking around for us. Mia and I yelled to catch her attention,
frightening a few passers-by. At 12-23, after a quick hug and a formal
introduction between Mia and Satarupa, I jogged off to retrieve my husband from
the depths of the enormous Staten Island ferry terminal. I jogged back 10
minutes later, not having found him. Jeet returned after a further 10 minutes,
having stood in a long line for the public phone, which I supposedly could not
have missed.
Turns out, after being dropped off by the bus a few minutes
later than scheduled, Satarupa had passed us at just the moment we must have both
bent over Mia; like a scene in a bad, slapstick comedy. She’d missed us completely and circled the terminal before
coming back to where I saw her eventually.
I have no idea how anyone met anybody else at pre-determined
times and places before mobile phones allowed us to check every movement. “Where
are you now?” …“Look up, I can see you walking towards me.” “Where are you, I
can’t see you?” “Put the phone away and Look UP you idiot!”. Suffice it to
say, we’ve completely lost the ability now.
Now that we were all present and accounted for, we finally
lined up for and boarded the enormous ferry, along with a sort of United Nations of tourists. It was a beautiful day, and
Satarupa offered to keep Mia entertained while we went out on deck to watch the
Manhattan skyline and (in her words) "Liberty Mashima” slip by. I had
always wondered at the yellowness of the flame, but it was all made clear to me
when the fire in the lady’s torch seemed to burn hotly in the distance.
After we were disgorged back onto the mainland we returned
to our bench and tried to put away an ENTIRE pizza among the three of us. It
did not end well, with all of us feeling bloated and awful, and 1/5th
of the pizza dropped shamefacedly in a bin. I still can’t look at a pizza
without feeling an awful burp welling up inside of me.
We walked to Wall Street and tried to get a picture with the
NYSE bull. Some tourists were taking saucy pictures with the (extremely
well-endowed) bull’s nether regions, others were hoisting themselves up onto
the bull by the horns in a shocking display of would-be vandalism. We asked
Satarupa to take a quick, very far-away picture of us waving near the stomach of
the bull, (the only unmolested part of the poor boy’s anatomy) and we escaped,
not wishing to be around when one of his extremities snapped off with a
resounding crack.
We headed on to see the breathtakingly beautiful new World
Trade Centre, looking like a sharp slice of sky plunging into the clouds. We
watched the sombre visitors to the memorial at Ground Zero, the many grim policemen
and their sniffer dogs for a while, before directing our feet in the direction of
Times Square.
Times Square, again, was something I’d seen a zillion times in
movies or newspapers. That did not prepare me for how mind-boggling the sight
was. And it wasn’t even night, but a gently fading twilight. This was
Capitalism in all its flashy, larger-than-life glory. Satarupa and I sat on the
red steps amidst the flashing neon screens and milling crowds and chatted for a
while, while Mia (who has a passion for climbing steps) was escorted up and
down and up the stairs by her long-suffering father.
We couldn’t come away without visiting Toys R Us, though
none of us were really in the mood for it. I could see it must’ve been a magical place
for older children; but after a quick purchase of an “Abby-abby” (angry bird)
beanie cushion for Mia; and a fleeting look at the enormous Ferris wheel within
the store, we gladly made our way back to the quiet, darkened sanctuary of our
hotel room.
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