प्रकाशित कीता: 21.09.2023
The journey begins with the train to HH. On the way to Bremen, an older woman spoke to me and asked about the mandolin case and whether it was a violin. We start talking about her cello playing and my journey to Appalachian on the trail of bluegrass music. Her trip to Israel with a church group is also a topic and I remember the exciting graphic novel “Understanding Israel”, which I read in August. When she says goodbye, the woman says “God bless you”.
During the drive to HB I particularly like the apple from our garden. The trip to HH also works excellently. In HH I find the S3 towards Stade and get off in Heimfeld. When carrying the suitcase up, the top handle breaks off. But I can still carry the suitcase using the extendable handle. From the S-Bahn station I had already agreed with E. that I would walk downhill to him. Since E. is sick with Corona for the first time, he greets me with a mask and says in a coughing voice that he would take off immediately. He sleeps outside on the terrace. I have another beer and soon go to sleep with my alarm set for 4:45 a.m. In the morning, before the alarm goes off, I buy a ticket for the trip to the airport (1.77 euros). In very light rain, I walk uphill to the S-Bahn station and reach the airport without any problems. At the main station I buy a latte for my computer mug and a croissant. The saleswoman compliments me on my necklace. That hasn't happened for a long time. The self-check-in works relatively smoothly and the security check is also quick. Although I forgot to put my camping cutlery in the suitcase, I can still take it with me. The mandolin case is searched for explosives and actually starts. Therefore, a police officer has to look and has no concerns that it is explosives. You never know with a mandolin like this...
Afterwards I have a lot of time, go to the gate and read the newspaper. While looking for a water dispenser, I pass numerous vending machines with drinks (each for 3.50 euros). The water dispenser runs slowly, but the thin stream fits perfectly into my SIGG bottle, which is over 30 years old. The flight to Frankfurt starts on time and is cloudy and, as I always do when flying, I think of Sönke. When we reached normal altitude, the sun was shining and we could soon see the landscape below us. Many small villages surrounded by fields and forests, connected by roads and paths. In Frankfurt there is another extra security check for me and my mandolin. The flight takes off a good 30 minutes late. There are numerous media offerings. I watch the films “The Son” and “A man named Otto”. Both are touching in their own way and worth seeing.
When approaching Newark Airport, I can only see a little through the small window while sitting in the middle aisle, but I can see enough to see the Statue of Liberty and of course the Manhattan skyline.
After getting out and completing immigration formalities, I quickly find an ATM and withdraw my first cash. To make change, I buy a tuna sandwich for $15. I quickly find the bus stop for bus 37 and tell the driver that I want to go to Hawthorne Avenue. He lets me out at an intersection and gives me instructions for the rest of the walk. I set off with my suitcase, past run-down factories and car dealers. The path is difficult but eventually I reach my destination.
First of all, I fail with the electronic combination door lock. When it finally works, everything in the apartment is easy to find and in tip top condition. After a quick arrival and a breather, I set out to explore the neighborhood and see if there was a shop anywhere. After a long walk along Elizabeth Avenue I only find a small kiosk and buy some milk. When I get back home, I soon fall asleep.
The next morning I find coffee and Quaker Oats Cerial in the kitchen. I also found a radio station (WBGO, 88.3) where jazz is played. Fine. When it is announced that there will be a revival of a musical on Broadway that evening, I take a look and buy cheap preview tickets for $25. It is the musical “Cross that River” by Allan Harris.
Using the bus schedule, I make my way to the bus stop for bus 107 on Elizabeth Avenue. The bus arrives relatively on time and, like all buses in this district, is predominantly occupied by black passengers. On the way I discover individual bicycle lanes on the main road, but they end again after a short time. However, I don't see any cyclists here in Newark. After an exciting ride we arrive in NYC at the Port Authority Bus Terminal in Manhattan. First I try to find out where the bus will leave for the return journey. This takes me a solid 30 minutes. But as I read later, the reason for this is that the bus terminal is one of the largest in the world with three floors on which buses arrive and depart. I make my way through Times Square to Central Park. Right at the beginning I meet a collection of demonstrating script writers who are walking in circles with loud music and whistles. Times Square is extremely crowded, loud, hectic and not very attractive, so I move relatively quickly north towards Central Park. In Central Park, coachmen wait with their carriages for paying tourists. And the cliché is actually true: there are numerous Asian tourists traveling in the carriages. The differences couldn't be more stark: sitting in Central Park, skyscrapers keep flashing through the trees. Gray squirrels scurry through the beds looking for food. At the Checkers and Chess Pavilion I get a card and watch some chess players concentrate on their game. A sign shows me the way through a landscaped flower meadow landscape that should remain untouched. I pass Cedar Hill and the Wizard of Oz/Alice in Wonderland monument. I also meet the first professional “dog walkers” with numerous well-groomed dogs in tow.
After I've seen enough of Central Park, I leave the park heading west. Then I take a detour to the musical theater. I pass the opera, the Julliard School of Music and Columbus Circle. I find a Turkish restaurant near the musical. Here I eat and charge my iPhone, which I borrowed from Ole.
The musical “Cross that River” is a revival from a few years ago. It's about the (love) story of a young black man, Blue, who escapes from Louisiana to Texas and becomes one of the first black cowboys. The author Allan Harris sings the old blue and plays the guitar in retrospect. There are also four other actors on stage. The musicians on stage are: piano, bass, drums, guitar and fiddle. All musicians also take on short roles in the piece.
After the performance, I quickly make my way to the Port Authority Bus Terminal and after three quarters of an hour I get there and find my way around relatively quickly. Exhausted, I reach my accommodation around midnight.
On the way through the park I pass the Metropolitan Museum of Art - it is closed on Wednesdays. So I head to the Guggenheim Museum. Preparations for the next exhibition are currently underway and the temporary exhibition shows Korean artists in the 1960s and 70s. (Only the Young: Experimental Art in Korea). After a quick walk through these rooms, I take a closer look at the Tannhauser Collection. This is all very impressive and great. There are various pictures there, among others, by Vincent Van Gogh (and I remember our visit to the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam) and Pablo Picasso.
The next morning I set off for NYC relatively late and once there I walked from the bus station to the UN building. On the way there I spend some time in Grand Central Station. A huge train station complex with local rail connections. After the UN building I walk along the Avenue of the Americas. Here everything becomes a little more alternative and suits me. I also like the subsequent Meatpacking District. I take a longer break on the High Line Park railway line. I'll save the Whitney Museum of American Art for a later visit. I then walk through Greenwich Village and back north along Christopher Street. At Washington Square Park I listen to the hustle and bustle and look for a bar for a long time. This search takes a long time. Finally I find an Irish pub. You can get a cold beer there for $9. The way home goes smoothly and I arrive exhausted again at my now familiar accommodation.
The next morning I quickly packed my things and took bus 37 to the airport. After a long search I reach the various car rental companies. There's already a long line at Dollar and I wait almost two hours until I can pick up my pre-booked car (a red Honda Civic). I then drive to the accommodation, pack up my things and set off for Pennsylvania.