Home, sweet home: New Paltz, NY

Since moving away almost two years ago, New Paltz has become my favorite vacation spot. I think you have to step away from something to gain an honest perspective. Being so far away makes it simple to appreciate New Paltz for all it's quirk, charm and beauty.

As far as I'm concerned, my hometown is up there as one of the greatest places going. I'm biased of course, with sentimental attachments galore, BUT my little pride and joy has in fact been recognized by some legit sources.

In 2006, Outside Magazine's feature on "Best Outside Towns" listed New Paltz among the top twenty towns in which America's adventure athletes choose to live.

"The community of climbers here is like a family; everybody's supportive," raves Ivan Greene, part-time resident and five-time Northeast climbing champ. "It's lost in time. And in fall, it's the most beautiful place on the planet."

Agreed.

National Geographic Adventure ran a similar feature in 2007, polling the "50 Best Places to Live & Play," with New Paltz categorized in the top ten mountain towns.

I guess I feel the compulsion to share this information because a large portion of the country forgets that there is more to New York than a city. You may be surprised to learn that while I am from the great state of New York, I am hardly a city girl, in fact at this very moment there sits a large backhoe in my parent's drive way. Real talk.


For a handful of years when I was little, my parents hosted Thanksgiving for both sides of the family at our house and I remember my great-grandmother fussing about us living "out in the wilderness", as if we were camping out with Thoreau. Not quite.


The other day my friend Sarah told me about a conversation she recently had which resulted in an attempt to clearly define the term "crunchy" as a way to describe a person, place, or thing, in addition to edibles.

To me, the word is synonymous with the stereotypical Hudson Valley lifestyle. Crunchy is to New Paltz as Guido is to the Jersey shore.

Urban Dictionary defines Crunchy:

Adjective. Used to describe persons who have adjusted or altered their lifestyle for environmental reasons. Crunchy persons tend to be politically strongly left-leaning and may be additionally but not exclusively categorized as vegetarians, vegans, eco-tarians, conservationists, environmentalists, neo-hippies, tree huggers, nature enthusiasts, etc.
In contrast to the rural atmosphere of NP, there is a very present urban influence which comes from the proximity between Albany & NYC, which provides a nice accent and quirk. Basically, it's a silly little melting pot which I'm sure helped cultivate my senses by exposure to all sorts of characters. Very little shocks me these days.

I just returned from a wonderful little trip to the great northeast. For ten days I reveled in a geographical culture and transit system that inherently makes the most sense to me. There really is nothing that compares to going home. A big burst of fresh air, in some of the dirtiest cities around.

DAY ONE: Austin to Philadelphia, and a little slice of New Jersey

The entire trip was the product of last minute planning, so I was beyond excited when my friends in Philly said that not only could I stay with them after arriving in the "City of Brotherly Love," but that they demanded I join them for the first in a series of Springsteen shows at the Meadowlands. Unbelievable.

I shared the news of my good fortune with a friend back home, who replied with, "I don't know if you're rich or lucky, but either way I'm pretty sure I hate your guts." I see her point. I think I fall in the crossroads, in that I feel rich with luck.

In a series of train rides north from Philly, I looked out my window at flickering scenes of defunct industrial plants, swamps, graffiti murals, and abandoned junkyards of Jersey. The gritty factories and alley views of my journey provided a suitable primer for Springsteen's lyrical tales of the flawed working man, ghost towns, and of course the notorious tri-state area.

After my introspective solo travel, I was overwhelmed by culture shock once my friends picked me up and the pace of events shot into high-gear in route to Giant's Stadium. It was refreshingly hilarious and stereotypical of everything Jersey. Fast talk and authentic pizza passed through the car as we entered the flood of fans tail gating in the stadium lot. The show was an explosive display that brought 60,000 fans to their feet. I was shocked by the reciprocated stamina of crowd and performers. It was amazing.

DAY TWO: Philadelphia to New Paltz

I awoke to stumble around my old stomping grounds in the Old City and Queens Village neighborhoods of east central Philadelphia. I sincerely miss the accessibility of a walking city, but in contrast that day's mission was to find a rental and drive home to New Paltz to surprise my father on his 50th birthday.

The best part of the three hour drive was surfing upon 101.5 and their Jersey Guys' talk show. It's always great when a notorious stereotype reinforces itself. Their topic du jour was the heated tension between Staten Island and the Jersey Shore ignited by Belmar New Jersey Mayor Ken Pringle. It was beyond hilarious to listen to actual Jersey residents calling in to argue the definition of "guido".

Oh, and my father was 100% flabbergasted at the site of me. It was great.

DAY THREE: New Paltz

I went to my favorite breakfast place in town and saw my favorite band, The Felice Brothers! Since they actually live in New Paltz, it's nothing out of the ordinary, but I was awe struck. My dining partner/best friend was baffled by my nervousness, as these boys assume the identity of totally normal townies. I was a mess. Love does funny things to a girl.

I guess I'm of the fortunate few who absolutely love where they grew up. Each time I come home, I find myself increasingly appreciative of the refreshing familiarity of it all. It's the kind of town where you'll likely run into someone you know each time you leave the house, and I guess that's a factor that drove me to larger ponds, so to speak, but the Cheers-effect does warm your heart a little when you're not used to it. I ran into my neighbor Chris the other day at The Bistro whom I hadn't seen in at least ten years. Impromptu reunions add a nice little accent to the holidays and are inevitably common place in a town like NP thats main commerce area encompasses only about 5 city blocks.

While I'm surely biased with sentimentality, some of my favorite places of all time are New Paltz staples, which I've definitely been taking advantage of as frequently as possible in this short stay home. The following are the best of the best, in my book.

Bacchus - By far the best selection of brews in town and a very calm setting. It's like a little cabin for drunkards.
The Bistro - I can't even count how many mornings I've spent waiting for a table. No regrets. My favorites are the Tofu Tomorrow and The Hurricane. Amazing.
Rhino Records - I used to peruse the used section weekly after cashing my paycheck from my high school job at TCBY. I can still waste hours in there, so many treasures to be found.
Hokkaido - Aside from the sushi I had in St. Thomas, this may be the most consistently amazing sushi I've experienced yet.
Artcraft Camera - After bringing prints to two different shops in Austin that were unable to fulfill my request in a timely and cost-effective manner, artcraft got my shit done right in an hour. Love them. I've been there everyday since I got home.

Just shy of a week into my travels east, I was fighting exhaustion and glad to be heading back to New York. The little micro-universe of New Paltz is as familiar and comforting to me as a worn in t-shirt. I was relieved to know my calendar allowed for a few nights back home and it was perfect timing. Of course I planned it that way.

Thursday night in New Paltz is synonymous with 80’s night. This dingy hippie bar called Oasis sits on-top of a club of sorts called Cabaloosa and on Thursday nights while a jam band grooves away upstairs Cab’s pumps out 80s tunes and new-age throw backs to a dance floor of sweaty hipsters. Two summers ago when I moved back to NP, 80s night was a weekly shit show and responsible for some of the most ridiculous and noteworthy nights imaginable. The setup provides for the perfect balance. The dim lights, goofy jam band and back patio smoke lounge make Oasis my favorite bar in town, not to mention the sake bar and 420-friendliness. A perfect refuge when the downstairs dance floor becomes too much of a hot mess.

When I tried to lure Jim and the boys out for 80s night he declined in light of Ryan’s birthday bash on Friday, claiming he was too old to pull a double header. I told him I was exhausted and planned to take it easy. He laughed at this idea and predicted that I would, “get way out of hand and have no voice on Friday.” That bet would certainly be consistent with my old habits and what New Paltz often makes of me, but this particular night didn’t involve a bottle of Jager in the bathroom or blunts on the back patio. Maybe I’m growing up and maybe some of that is from moving on.

Somehow I fended off exhaustion and pulled off the double header swimmingly. In the long tradition of 80s night Kate, Sarah and I tried to pregame as hard as possible. Our efforts were pretty pathetic which may be another sign of the onsets of aging, or more likely the aftermath of a long car ride back from Philly. We met Jess at the bar and had some quality lady-love dance party time before Tim and Richard (who were driving cross country from CA back to NH) got into town. Their arrival created an impromptu MCLA mini-reunion. We worked it out on the dance floor throwing every move in the book into the mix and laughing in delight at the scene. Hilarity ensued as we drank and danced ‘til four and then finished the night right with some authentic NY pizza.

It was a funny coincidence that our crew that night in New Paltz consisted mainly of my college friends who were all visiting from out of town. It's really humbling to me to feel the warmth of bringing friends together. It's the kind of sappy shit I get all worked up about. It's fucking beautiful.

The following night was a similar scenario. It started at Cliff’s house on Tricor. It was a full-blown backyard brodown. All the usual suspects were milling around with beer cans appropriately littering the yard. The birthday boy declared himself a drunken mess shortly after my late arrival to no one’s surprise, and I hammered through my Harpoons making new friends and catching up with the old.

I’m going to be sad when Cliff sells that house considering the staple it’s become in my circle of friends over the past couple of years. When I lived in my studio apartment down the road I think I spent just about every night of that first summer either walking towdards campus to drink beers in their backyard or host a similar affair in my small dwellings. That was a great summer.

Just like old times our staggering posse wandered down the middle of Tricor towards Oasis discreetly chugging our beers. Ryan assed out, too drunk to join us, but we made sure to continue the celebration in his honor. What I had anticipated to be an early night was far too enjoyable to pull myself away from. That’s the thing about visiting home I never know when I’m going to see these people again so it seems all the more necessary to make the most of each moment before it passes. So I did.


Leaving the northeast has been a huge challenge and an amazing adventure. I’ve been really fortunate to build a strong foundation for myself down here, but when it all boiled down and I confirmed my decision to relocate to Austin it was a matter of weighing fears. Was it scarier to go or to never know? Trying and failing would hurt, but living with a looming “what if” would haunt me for sure and probably result in a pathetic display of a mid-life crisis. So I might as well be shameless and irresponsible now while I can still disguise it as curious nobility.