I took a long walk around Lower Manhattan this evening. I’d been inside the apartment all day, editing a book on gardening, and needed to get outside for a while, so I took the train into the city, with no real destination in mind. I wound up on Houston Street and decided to walk west to the river. I didn’t know this, but there’s a nice river walk, so I took advantage of it.
It was a lovely evening for a walk, so there were many people about. There’s a long pier you can walk down, so I walked down it. The view of Lower Manhattan from that pier was fabulous. (Yeah, I took pictures. No, I don’t know when you’ll see ’em. Have you noticed my damn San Francisco pictures still aren’t online? That was April, dammit. Leave me alone.) You could also look uptown and see the Empire State Building, lit up tonight in Old-Glory colors.
I kept walking.
Soon, I saw to my left a trapeze school. A trapeze school, of all things! I gotta admit, it’s tempting. Very tempting. (Don’t tell my mom.)
I walked on. The Downtown Boathouse offers free kayaking and free kayaking lessons. Now that’s damned cool. It’s a little late to sign up for lessons now; the calendar shows that basic lessons were held at the beginning of the summer. Maybe next year.
I kept cruising. Ahead of me, I saw another pier, this one bedecked with lights and happy people. I started to pass by but then realized everyone walking in wasn’t paying a dime. So I wandered in, to see what was the hubbub. Swing dancing on the pier. Within half an hour, I’d seen opportunities for trapeze artistry, kayaking, and swing dancing. What a city.
I watched the dancers a while, longing to join, but my swing dancing’s rusty. I’m sure I can find lessons around here. Everyone seemed so vibrant and glad, it actually made me happy to see it.
I wandered on, down to the World Financial Center. I skirted the plaza, keeping to the river walk. They’ve done it up nicely–brick walks, trees everywhere, lovely river views, gleaming steel-and-glass highrises. I didn’t venture into the building cluster, but those nearest the river showed no signs of last September’s unpleasantness. By this point, it was dark, but people were everywhere. Jogging, skating, strolling. Making out on benches. Chatting, arguing. I strolled past a cute cove given over to yachting, several restaurants with outdoor seating, another cove. Eventually, I landed at Battery Park.
Parched, I sought out McDonald’s for a keg of Coke before grabbing the N train from Whitehall St. back to Brooklyn.