It's strange to go from a rural town of 3,000 to a city of 8 million in only 9 hours of driving, 5 hours of flying, 1 hour of subway riding, and 4 blocks of walking. I feel oddly at home in both McCall, ID and New York, and think I could happily live in either place. One of the things I love so much about New York, and Brooklyn in particular, is the tremendous variation from block to block. Dana and I went on a bike ride out to Rockaway on Monday, and while we were passing through Brooklyn we saw a Russian bakery sign that said "fresh bread" in English, and according to my personal translator (Dana), "your kind of food" in Russian. Several blocks from the bakery we passed the strong smell of incense, then a cluster of Spanish speaking kids, then a Vietnamese neighborhood which I will definitely return to someday for pho. We passed by huge four story houses with grotesque columns, ever present brownstones, and everything in between. We rode by many lovely shared green spaces, from Prospect Park to tiny little community gardens.
For several miles we rode down the waterfront, watching people fish, stroll, and enjoy the sunny weekday morning. When we arrived at our destination,
Rockaway Taco, which I will freely admit that I heard about on
The Selby, we were more than ready for some tacos, juice, and general relaxation. Unexpectedly, the plantain chips were the highlight of the meal, along with the pineapple mint juice.
The weather turned dark and we headed back to Brooklyn, pedaling our single-speeds as fast as our legs could carry us. A nice cold Brooklyn Pale Ale followed by pork kimchi ramen at
Chuko wrapped up a perfect trip to New York.
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