If Times Square is the heart of New York, then New York’s heart beats for tourists.
This Times Square, of course, is not the pervert’s paradise of decades past. Gone are the bump-and-grind clubs, the peep shows and unspeakable solicitations. In their stead now are The Gap, Madame Tussauds and TGI Friday’s. The only flashing is being done by enough lights to make Vegas look like it’s conserving energy. Even the NYPD substation has its name in lights.
With shrines to carnal vices knocked down to make way for altars of consumerism, Times Square, like an astounding portion of Manhattan these days, is family-friendly. The worst thing a child might lay eyes on these days is the world’s biggest Toys R Us.
We learned this the hard way. After failing to avert our son’s eyes in time, we found ourselves inside, shelling out $12 for a turn on the store’s indoor Ferris wheel, which revolves slowly enough to afford kids ample time to scope out the bounty on each of the three levels. At least we got to ride in the Scooby Doo car and not the dreaded pink Barbie one.
Times Square may take it to loud and very bright extremes, but in its own gaudy way, its transition reflects a growing sense that a lot of Manhattan, for better or worse, is becoming a stage set for the enjoyment of visitors.
My husband, my 8-year-old son and I couldn’t have looked more like tourists if we’d tried. Toting backpacks, cameras and subway maps, all we lacked were Hawaiian shirts and zinc oxide on our noses. And yet, people were nice — and not just those whose tips depended on it.
There was the waiter in Little Italy — yes, I know, he needs tips, but he didn’t have to spend valuable minutes demonstrating for our son the Italian technique for twirling pasta onto a fork using a spoon as a brace. And the woman who shushed her own fidgety kid so she could offer to help us find our way up 34th Street to Penn Station. She was almost disappointed when I said thank you, but we’re OK.
They like us, they really like us.
And so they should.
After all, it’s not New Yorkers filling seats at “The Lion King” and “Mamma Mia!” year after year.
Sure, fear — and the prospect of surrendering our nail clippers in three-hour airport security lines — kept us away for a while after Sept. 11, but even that didn’t last.
And now, when New York’s own homeboys nearly brought economic Armageddon down on all of us, we’re still showing up.
So are the French.
Sitting atop the uppermost deck of the harbor ferry The Miss New Jersey on a perfect autumn morning, headed to the Statue of Liberty, it seemed odd to be just about the only passengers from America.
It had never occurred to me that so many people from so many countries would come in droves to the monument — although, in the case of the French, maybe it should have, because they may be more interested in admiring their countrymen’s handiwork than in standing at the giant green feet of America’s symbol.
The Statue of Liberty is like the Grand Canyon: Every American ought to see it, though that can mean standing around in a crowd, snapping pictures and gaping. And, like the Grand Canyon, you’ve seen images of the monument so often there will be no surprises. And yet, being there remains an awe-inspiring experience.
It is also a destination that requires planning. Admission to Lady Liberty’s restored crown is the hottest ticket in town, something we didn’t count on when we tried unsuccessfully to book tickets four weeks in advance.
Battery Park, where tours to Liberty and Ellis islands originate and end, sits at Manhattan’s tip, where the city itself began, where financial towers cast shadows and where, once, the World Trade Center was just up the street.
The Twin Towers, or rather the scar they left, is now a construction site, fenced off and noisy with grinding machines and yelling men in hard hats.
Even there, they are all about visitors: Tucked along a narrow row of nail salons and sandwich shops sits the Tribute WTC Visitor Center.
It’s a small space, spare yet unsparing. For $10 (kids under 12 are free; audio tour another $5) you do not have to watch, again, the smoke and chaos of the unfolding national horror. The center’s designers seem to know they don’t have to dwell on that, and they don’t. Instead, they tell, with artifacts and tributes, human stories.
There are the police officers’ guns melted together into a gray clump. There is a white stuffed lamb, intended as a World Trade Center souvenir, that somehow survived to peer sweetly out from behind glass. And a banged-up helmet rests on the shoulders of a firefighter’s jacket, torn through from neck to hem.
There also are WTC refrigerator magnets, $3.95, and the $14.95 Plush Rescue Puppy. But that’s about as bad as it gets.
Welcome escape
Finding Sagno Alseny behind the wheel is about as good as it gets.
We had just spent three hours at the Metropolitan Museum of Art — not the three days I would have liked — marveling at Robert Frank’s stunning photo collection “The Americans” and the tiny, 300-year-old, four-poster bed complete with hand- carved and painted nativity scenes, no bigger than a child’s hand, on each end.
Our next destination, the American Museum of Natural History, was blocks away, but on the other side of Central Park. It was pouring rain. So we decided to spring for a cab.
Climbing in, shaking water all over the backseat, I waited for the driver’s grumbling at what would be a $5 fare at best.
Instead we got enthusiasm.
“Oh! That is my favorite of all the museums,” he said. “I go there once a month at least.”
He proceeded to tell my incredulous child about the frog he had seen there recently — a newly discovered species, from some deep corner of Africa. “It had hair,” he said.
From Liberia, Alseny said he lives in Harlem and is studying international relations. I’m guessing he’s doing well.
We didn’t find the furry frog, but thanks to one of the museum’s many volunteer “explainers,” we did find out that Tasmanian devils are dying of cancer and that the museum offers a two-level Discovery room where the youngest kid-scientists can poke little fingers into nature’s grossest stuff. Older kids can slide specimens under microscopes and scan computers.
My favorite, though, was the Hall of Ocean Life. Dark, cool and blue, with sea creatures on all sides beneath a blue-glass ceiling, the multi-story world apart offers the sensation of being deep within the ocean while dry and oxygen-supplied.
OK, maybe the ocean room was my second favorite, close behind the giant cupcakes and cider at Crumbs, a few blocks from the museum and one of several places that claims credit, or blame, for launching the cupcake mania.
It’s a good thing this is a town that forces you to walk.
When you do, you often stumble into great places.
On our last night there, we wandered into a musty little shop near New York University where chess lovers come not just to buy, but to sit and have a match.
Chris, who is not the owner, (“Oh, no. I’ve only worked here five years.”) pulled out from antique cupboards sets hand-carved of ivory and forged from metal. He showed us sets whose pieces were animals, Civil War figures, Star Wars characters.
When I asked about prices, Chris offered that shipping would be a minimal extra cost.
It was a Tuesday night, far from Battery Park and light years (no pun intended ) from Times Square.
Yet Chris sized us up as tourists in an instant, and still treated us without a smidgen of condescension.
“What, you think we’re not from here?” I asked, feigning shock.
He just smiled, too polite to answer.
Karen Auge: 303-954-1733 or kauge@denverpost.com
New York Insider’s Guide
GET THERE: From AirTran to United, pretty much any airline that serves Denver will take you to LaGuardia, John F. Kennedy or Newark airport, although for really cheap fares, you may have to stop somewhere on the way.
A search of post-holiday flights turned up fares ranging from $155 — on AirTran, with a stop in Milwaukee — to $474 for a United nonstop. Our Frontier nonstops to and from LaGuardia cost about $215 apiece.
Once you’re in Manhattan, cabs are everywhere, if your wallet is up for it. Otherwise, the city’s subways may not be squeaky-clean and shiny-new, but they’re plentiful and cheap. For $2.25, you can ride all over town and change trains as many times as you’d like as long as you don’t cross an exit turnstile.
It hardly inspires confidence that the transit authority finds it necessary to post signs reminding riders that fondling strangers is a crime, even when you’re mashed together in an underground tube. Still, our subway experience was positive — I even witnessed a man offering his seat to a wrung-out woman. And if my 8-year-old can figure out whether to take the express, the red line or the crosstown L, it should be a piece of cake for most adults.
Eventually you’ll climb out of those subterranean commuter hives and partake in perhaps the most quintessential Big Apple activity: walking.
New York may be America’s last real walking city, which helps to explain why you can expect to see the famous, the freaky, the rich, the ruthless and the lost in Manhattan, but one thing you won’t see much is the obese.
STAY: If there’s a cheap hotel in Manhattan, you don’t want to sleep in it.
Expect to pay at least $150 a night, excluding taxes, for a basic room — and that’s if you get a deal. There are many of those, however. Bad economic times bring good deals at sites like Travelocity and Expedia for those who are flexible and plan ahead.
Otherwise a suite at the storied Plaza will set you back about $800 a night; the trendy W runs between $250 and $300. In between are loads of charming boutique hotels, but often that charm costs more than bunking at a more pedestrian chain. One good option, though, is the Affinia Dumont (see The Room Report).
DINE: If there’s one thing New Yorkers should be grateful for, besides the steady influx of tourist dollars, it’s the outstanding food to which they have constant access. Of course that’s to be expected at the of-the-moment celebrity-owned or celebrity-swathed restaurants.
But it’s also true of less tony places any visitor can get into, and can afford to pay his way out of. And it doesn’t just apply to restaurants.
Two doors down from our hotel, for example, was a little store that managed to offer fresh meat, lattes, handmade cannoli and more fresh fruit and vegetables than my local supermarket stocks in three times as much space. Given that we had a kitchen in our room, it would have been perfect — if only a Dunkin’ Donuts didn’t stand between it and our hotel.
Grand Central Terminal, of all places, is home to a dazzling food market that undoubtedly has ruined many a commuter’s diet with its fresh-cooked entrees, its fresh fish and meat counter, its delectable bakery. There’s even a doggie deli counter.
Like any good tourist, we did our research before we went. New York magazine, Zagat and scores of other websites, along with a number of iPhone apps, helped us whittle the city’s nearly 3,000 listed restaurants.
Still, the best meal we had in New York was at a place we stumbled into because it was near our hotel and we were in the mood for margaritas.
It turns out El Parador Cafe (325 E. 34th St., 212-679-6812, ) is the Michelin Guide’s top pick for the city’s best Mexican restaurant. I can only conclude that the Michelin diners sampled the barbacoa de costilla pibil, baby-back ribs steamed in banana leaves until the meat slides off the bones and served with a chipotle-lime sauce. I would eat my shoes if they had that sauce on them. My husband, though, would stick by his entree choice, the bouillabaisse Veracruzana, which featured a lobster tail the size of our son’s forearm.
In a nod to the youngster’s tastes, we also visited S’Mac (345 E. 12th St., 212-358-7912, smacnyc ), which, as its name implies, is all about macaroni and cheese. But this is macaroni and cheese that should make the Kraft people hang their heads in shame. Purists can go for basic American/cheddar or four-cheese varieties, but the more radical can try the Italian-inspired Napolitana or even the Parisienne, with brie, roasted figs, shiitake mushrooms and fresh rosemary. All come steaming hot in cast-iron skillets.
Crumbs (we visited the 321 1/2 Amsterdam Ave. store blocks from the American Museum of Natural History, but there are numerous locations around the city and beyond; see ) one of several places that claims credit, or blame, for launching the cupcake mania. Selections vary seasonally (Thanksgiving brings pumpkin, chocolate pecan pie). I could barely finish my red velvet, but my husband had no such problems with his luscious carrot cupcake with cream cheese frosting.
PLAY: The problem, of course, isn’t finding things to see and do, but figuring out how many to try and cram into your allotted time.
A great place to start is the state of New York’s official tourism website, . They try to lure you into thinking you ought to visit the Hudson Valley or Saratoga Springs, but if you stay focused, their listing of hundreds of Manhattan attractions and activities is comprehensive and alphabetical — 16 web pages’ worth, from the pre-revolutionary African Burial Ground all the way through the Yeshiva University Museum.
The site’s attempt to map attractions for you produces scrawls that look like something drawn by a chimp with an Etch-A-Sketch. That shortcoming is made up for by a function that allows you to click on attractions that interest you, thus creating a printable personalized itinerary.
Once you figure out where you want to go, there are numerous venues that offer package deals on tickets.
Two of the biggest competitors for your package-ticket dollar are The New York Pass (at new ) and CityPass (city ). The New York Pass offers passes that are good for one day to one week, starting at $75 for adults, $55 for kids.
Priced at $79 for adults and $59 for kids, the CityPass is valid for nine consecutive days, and buys admission to six attractions, including the Guggenheim Museum, the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty.
Best bet is to consult their websites to see which gets you into the places you most want to see.
Metropolitan Museum of Art (Fifth Avenue at 82nd Street, 212-535-7710, ) is closed most Mondays, open Tuesday-Thursday, 9:30 a.m.-5:30 p.m., Friday and Saturday: 9:30 a.m.-9 p.m. and Sunday, 9:30 a.m.-5:30 p.m. Suggested admission $20 adults, $15 seniors, $10 students. Kids under 12: free.
The American Museum of Natural History (Central Park West at 79th Street, 212-769-5100, amnh ) is open 10 a.m.-5:45 p.m. every day except Thanksgiving and Christmas. Suggested donations are: adults, $16; children 2-12, $9; seniors/student with ID, $12.
Tribute WTC Visitor Center (120 Liberty St., 866-737-1184, tribute ). Open 10 a.m.-6 p.m. Mondays and Wednesdays-Saturdays, noon-6 p.m. Tuesdays; and noon-5 p.m. Sundays. Admission: $10.
There are also, of course, a seemingly unlimited number of bus tours. Some will haul you around town all day and show you virtually everything you can imagine, some take only a couple of hours and hit the biggest highlights. Still others home in on whatever your particular, or peculiar, interest might be.
Big Onion tours (), for example, takes you through historic and ethnic neighborhoods, while New York Gallery Tours () shows the latest modern art and Ghosts of New York () hits all the haunts.
For cultural events like Broadway shows, concerts, opera, etc., websites abound. But be careful; prices can vary greatly from one to another. For example, one “official” website charges anywhere from $10 to $100 more for Metropolitan Opera tickets than the opera’s actual website, metopera , does.
