DAY 9: Brooklyn, NY

I'm definitely glad to have had the opportunity to get into the city while I was out east. Having grown up with frequent holiday visits and every imaginable field trip possible into Manhattan, it's easy to lose appreciation for that which is so accessible.

I met Sarah at the Port Authority in NYC and we trucked back to her Brooklyn apartment with a loose agenda for seeing something "artsy and cultural" per my request. When the exhaustive task of schlepping my bags in the midday heat deterred us from our original plans of making it to the Museum of Modern Art before close, we opted to keep it quirky and stay in BK for the night.

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 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.

When I moved to Austin I didn't foresee the cultural/geographical indications that would explain a shortage of bagel shops. The same goes for pizza. There just aren't as many Jews and Italians down south. Bagel shops are a staple of life in the northeast. It took me awhile to equate a breakfast taco to the doughy deliciousness of a bagel, and I'll always be biased.

Evan picked me up at my parent's house, just like when I was a sophomore in high school and he'd come tote me around. The first car I ever drove was Evan's classic red dodge demon. The license plates read "SAY TEN," which prompted inspecting glances from anyone who got the joke. That seems like a lifetime ago.

The weather was still unseasonably cold and rainy. I layered as best as possible and leaned over my shoebox of treasures as I walked from my parent's house and got into Evan's car. I laughed as I caught sight of Evan's oversized Zack Morris cell phone, and he put a Tupperware container in my lap with broken pieces of his new entrepreneurial endeavor: Vegan O'Brien Gourmet Cookies. His chocolate chip prototype was definitely up to par.

The New Paltz Plaza had received a total facelift since the last time I'd seen it and Hot Bagels was totally revamped. I excitedly ordered a much anticipated everything bagel with veggie-tofu cream cheese (so good), grabbed a drink from the cooler, and found a booth in the back. I think Evan ordered a breakfast sandwich, which surprisingly contrasted the straight-edged, veggie-head I knew back in high school. He scrutinized my shoebox until I unveiled its contents. We laughed over the pictures and reminisced. It felt good to be home.

After breakfast Evan drove me to Hertz in Kingston to pick up my rental. Once he was satisfied that I wasn't being taken advantage of, he headed home to dive back into the growing demands of his product launch and I hopped into my 2007 KIA Sportage. It felt good to be alone. On my trip thus far events had been tightly scheduled and I'd been dependent for rides, which is something that bothers me more than it should. I realize I have a huge issue with dependency, especially with transportation, as I perceive it to ultimately limit personal freedoms.

Given my new vehicle of independence, I decided to stop into Jim's silk screening shop (www.antilogydesignset.com ya'll!) on my way back to NP. I walked in to find Jim prepping a screen. When I left last summer the place was barely open, so it was great to see it all up and running. I heckled Jim and Mike, took pictures and loitered around for a while as they casually worked on the day's orders.

I turned back onto Rt. 32 and called over to Justin and Diana's. I would be driving past momentarily and thought I might as well take this opportunity to make some rounds. I turned off the main road and onto the gravel path leading to a huge, old, red barn, which was divided into apartments. Coby's dad used to live in this complex, around the corner and upstairs in a huge loft apartment. About ten years ago when I was learning how to drive, I took my parent's Dodge Ram for a joyride and picked her up to accompany me in my delinquency.

I knocked as I pushed the door open and saw Justin's expression light up before he unleashed his boisterous greeting. Justin is a character like no other, which should be made clear. I plopped myself on the couch and admired my old coffee table as it sat between us. We chatted as I made myself at home and he rolled up a blunt to "do what [he] does best." I squatted down and stuck my face up against the glass walls of his aquarium and tried to recall the names I'd given his fish. Given the activities so entwined with my days spent playing college at Justin's, my memory failed me.

Diana came home and took a seat next to Justin. He lit the blunt and passed it over. We talked about NP and they brought me up to speed on current events with old friends. It was good to see Diana happily reunited with NP after our time living together in Austin. I know that it's hard to find a place that makes as much sense to a personal lifestyle as a hometown does, especially a hometown like New Paltz. Its easy to fall victim to it's allure.

I had a lot to get done before heading to Connecticut later that night so I pried myself off their couch and got back on the road. As I approached the downtown crossway I impulsively turned right. I feared that if I didn't the chaos of my trip might not allow another opportunity to drive up through the Gunks (Shawangunk Mountains). With my radio adjusted to 100.1 Radio Woodstock, I drove through the flat fields of Mountain View Farms and up around the hairpin turn. I parked at the first outlook, got out and stared at the hazy horizon. The weather left much to be desired of the view, but it was nothing I hadn't seen before. I enjoyed the effects of my high and the time alone to introspect. I hope my love affair with New Paltz never dies. It feels like every inch of that town yields volumes of nostalgia.

I was so preoccupied and lost in thought that I nearly missed my flight home altogether. Completely aloof, I entered my gate and wandered into one of the stock bookstores to grab a magazine. I felt like somewhat of a smart-ass as I picked up The New Yorker and brought it to the cashier. I buried my face in the pages, browsing through articles as I found a seat to sit and space out in. Oddly, there was no one else around. Like a direct answer to an unarticulated question, my name was announced and I was called to board my flight or lose my seat. I laughed to myself and got on board. Typical.

In route to New York I read my magazine and was especially influenced by an article on light pollution by David Owen, "Can you see the stars?" It reminded me of this star projector machine my uncle gave me when I was young and made me anxious to rummage through my old belongings back at my parents house. I drifted in thought and compiled a quick list of books, pictures, records, etc. that I wanted to find back home. My excitement and anticipation peaked and my mind switched gears from thinking of all I would miss out on in Austin while traveling back east to the nearly tangible adventures I was about to embark on.

I realized I've trained myself to emotionally detach somewhat from my past in order to focus on and enjoy the present. There is so much to love and miss about the places you grow up and the people so inevitable entwined with those settings. I mean, there's a distinctly obvious reason each of us develops a geographical comfort zone. I'm no stranger to this evocation. As I landed at JFK, I was thoroughly ecstatic to be home.

I giggled to myself at the attitude shift from Austin International to JFK. The pace is ten fold, at least. The woman on the intercom sounded nasal and dramatic, strikingly like the voice of George Castanza's mother. Hilariously refreshing. The gift shop lacked the warm burnt orange glaze I had recently familiarized myself with in exchange for NYPD hats and mugs decorated with apples. Thank God.

Of course in the true spirit of New York, I soon found myself totally screwed. My connecting flight to Albany was canceled and I was completely stranded in this overcrowded zoo. I focused on my objective and limited options as I waited three hours for my baggage to be recovered.

The delirium took over as I found myself mingling with a mixed batch of stranded travelers and somehow got lucky. I met an army girl named Jessica who had come from Germany to get married the following night. She had to get to Albany to meet her fiancés' parents that night and proceed with her wedding arrangements. We buddied up and made a pact to get to Albany any way necessary. We figured we'd take a taxi to grand central and a train the remainder of the way upstate, but were approached by another duo destined for Albany and joined forces to rent a shuttle.

It was cold outside as our ramshackle crew loaded into the airport shuttle. We drove on the outskirts of NYC into Jersey and back up into NY. I gazed upon the cityscape, passed Yankee stadium, the Toyota lot where I bought my Yaris, and counted exits on the thruway as we passed New Paltz and continued all the way up to Catskill. Each of these landmarks struck an emotional chord with me making my thoughts pretzel. Only my increasing hunger could overpower and distract my minds focus.

The shuttle left me at thruway exit 21 as requested. I stood outside Stewart's with my enormous backpack dwarfing my frame and a garment bag hanging from my arm, a spectacle no doubt. I definitely missed the dinner plans I had with Sarah & Jessie. Four hours behind schedule, it was well beyond my control. So here I was, a total goon freezing my ass off in the middle of Catskill hoping they would arrive in the next fifteen minutes before Stewart's closed.