9/1/13 - WTC to Brooklyn

We woke to a grey and cloudy sky and so it seemed fitting that on such a day we would visit Ground Zero and the World Trade Centre Memorial. As expected security was tight and it took some time to get through the lines (not keen to try this when it is tourist time). But it was worth the trouble, as the much debated design was finally taking shape. It was interesting to see it after having heard so much about it after hearing so much about it for so long and after a careful inspection we concluded that it felt like a fitting memorial to those who perished here.

The nearby humble Trinity Church (where George Washington prayed after becoming the first President of the United States) whose stained glass windows remained intact during the attack was visible through the army of construction workers and concrete trucks ferrying supplies to the site. The pear tree that survived the 9/11 blast (and Hurricane Sandy) has recently been replanted. The grass has been laid and gardens planted.

The names inscribed on the edges of the waterfalls that now stand in the footsteps of the twin towers are a powerful tribute to human determination to overcome adversity and the ‘Freedom Tower’ at 1776 feet will stand as a reminder to all of the sense of pride Americans take in the fight for liberty and freedom and their contribution to achieving this.     

Still moved by what we saw and read at Ground Zero, we walked along the southern tip of the Hudson River Greenway to reflect. It was there in Battery Park that we came across a giant damaged metal ball. After researching this strange object that was sitting awaiting its fate in the remodelling of the park, it turns out to be the remnants of Fritz Koenig's 25 foot tall and 45,000lbs "Sphere for Plaza Fountain". This sculpture was created as a symbol of world peace and had once adorned the foot of the World Trade Centre.  No surprise then that the sphere's survival serves as a poignant symbol of resilience after such an horrific act of terror and has come to represent to the people of NYC a message of hope, faith and the enduring values that are needed to overcome intolerance.

Still pondering the story of the damaged metal ball and overcome by cold, we sought respite and ventured into the nearby Museum of the American Indian which is located in the Alexander Hamilton Customs House. Funny creatures we humans - all that effort into remembering 3000 people who died in 2001 and yet there across the road from all this shoved into the back of the now disused old Customs House was one man’s collection in a museum commemorating the lives of the millions of American Indians. 

 

And to add insult to the Indian’s plight the guided tour of the museum only covers the architecture and history of the Customs House and one is left to read the plaques on the displays to get any feel for the vast range of native civilisations that existed from the Arctic circle in the north to Terria del Fuego in the south of the Americas prior to this continent’s ‘invasion’ by Europeans. (By the way, did you know that Jimmy Hendrix’s grandmother was an Apache woman?). As the Statue of Liberty had been calling to us all afternoon and we had a little time up our sleeves before dinner, we took a short detour on the Staten Island Ferry and took some photos of her and the view back to the southern tip of Manhattan. As the day was grey we will be back again to do her justice.

After these unexpected adventures we boarded the subway and set off for Brooklyn to meet up with Camo for dinner at Roberta's Pizzeria in the Brooklyn suburb of Bushwick. I wish I had a photo of our faces when we stepped out of the station expecting ‘hip and groovy’ and all we could see was ‘graffiti and grime’! Not to mention the second photo that would have shown us going for our phones to ring Cameron who was not there to meet us only to discover there was no coverage.

Expecting the gangsters that we later found out to be two blocks to the east, we huddled together and asked at the local co-op store owner where Roberta’s Pizza joint was. Having repeated the name of the establishment three times – twice in my unintelligible Aussie accent and once in Richard’s Canadian accent, we gave up and agreed to have a wander to see if we might see the illuminated sign indicating it entrance. Well nothing could be further from the truth.

We found it ok but the ‘door’ turned out to be a piece of red cloth covering a hole between two pieces of rusted corrugated iron. Silly us for not seeing it earlier taking pride of place in a street with no street lights! But once inside it was a different story all together.

The guy at the bar greeted us with “You must be Cameron’s parents. Come in we’re expecting you.” And with that we were in a whole new world of cool! The patrons of this establishment were very funky and we enjoyed looking at how they had put together their look/signature outfits. Cameron arrived shortly therafter and enthusiastically took us to the ‘back cubby house’

for a pre-dinner drink.

He taught us how to delineate between a true Brooklynite as opposed to one from Manhattan who was just there for the image enhancement and those who are Brooklyn Uni students who have not yet earned their ‘brooklynite badges’.  After drinks we ventured into the main playground for the pizzas and a bottle (or two) of a rather neat little red wine from Slovenia. Now as Cameron had managed the Pizza Express at South Perth we knew he was a discerning pizza man and we were not surprised when he arranged for the most interesting and tasty of fare. Who would have thought that vegetable like organic parsnips and brussel sprouts would be the feature ingredients for a Brooklyn pizza but there they were and they took pride of place in amongst the always welcome prosciutto, mushrooms, chilli and olives.      

We left Roberta’s in fine form and Cameron escorted us home to the ‘big island’ (we think only so that his reputation for dining with his parents didn’t spread past the pizza place). Only hitch was that there is no ticket office at Morgan Avenue subway station and so Cameron flicked open the alarmed gate to allow us passage through to the platform and we all stood there like naughty schoolkids waiting for the guard to catch us.

But s/he never arrived and so we boarded the train and gleefully recounted out big adventure in the ‘hood all the way home.