Wikipages Blog

I enjoy a bit of spookiness and the macabre. That’s probably why I like to explore graveyards.

I find them fascinating. I like to see how long ago people lived and how old they were when they died. If they’re buried with family, the lavishness of the gravestone. It just paints a story of one life that’s now… over.

I wandered around in St. Michael’s Cemetery in Astoria, with my boyfriend Ben. Quite a cool place. It’s right near a highway, but it’s huge. And has some very old graves.We went through a few winds of the path, where the graveyard borders on a forested area. And we heard an odd sound in the underbrush. I jumped! We edged nearer to the forest and heard it again. A faint, but distinct… clucking!

We peered into the woods and saw the creatures making the sound. A whole herd of chickens! Feral, it seemed. Hens, roosters. Dozens of them! We also saw a pheasant with them! Feeding peacefully among them like one of the herd.

There was some feed on the ground, as if someone regularly feeds them. A chicken-loving gravedigger, or the ghost of a farmer. It was just the oddest thing to see this big group of chickens, clucking away in the middle of a graveyard. Pretty spooky stuff!

I love this time of year. The leaves changing, the pumpkins glowing, all the scary movies on television. So I’ve decided to do a series of posts to commemorate the most holy of holidays: Halloween.

Trinity Church is located right at Wall Street and Broadway, in the heart of the Financial District. This beautiful, historic building stands out amidst all the looming skyscapers. Right next to the church is Trinity Cemetery, one of the oldest graveyards in the city. It boasts famous inhabitants, including Alexander Hamilton, William Bradford, Robert Fulton, and Albert Gallatin.

Despite the location, the cemetery is a peaceful place. Well-tended flowers line the pathways, with beautiful old trees throughout the yard. The graves are worn and appear to be sinking back into the earth. Some of the stones themselves are very interesting. Many are from the 1700’s. William Bradford’s states that “Life is pain”. A true notion, which I will always associate with The Princess Bride.

I’ll be adding more Halloween posts. If you know any ghost stories associated with Trinity Cemetery, please add your comments and let me know!

As previously mentioned, I work in the Financial District and am not a big fan of the area. But I do have a favorite lunch place: Battery Park.

I had never actually visited Battery Park before. Now, everyday that the weather coorporates, my work friends and I grab a lunch at some local deli like Cafe Exchange or Bento Nouveau, and take it to the park. There’s an area with tables, overlooking the water with a view of the Statue of Liberty (and the Circle Line). It’s not
usually crowded, since most Wall Street types lunch at their desks.

Here flowers bloom, butterflies flutter, and the waves lap. It’s a very peaceful way to spend the midday. There’s also a huge, walk-in fountain which goes off seemingly randomly. My friend recently ran across the spurts of water in front of cheering crowd of tourists and a few fellow unconventional, young professionals, also there to escape for a peaceful lunch.

I just horrified a couple of baseball fans by telling them that I had no idea what “Game 7″ is today. Well, I never pretended to be a sports expert. But I do know a few good sports bars.

I recently went to Central Bar in the East Village for my friend Phil’s birthday. Phil is a baseball fan, a Mets fan, to be exact, and chose the place based on the ample number of big tv screens. I personally find TV screens in bars very distracting. They draw you away from socializing.

We snagged a bunch of seats around a table. (I sat facing away from the TV). The decor is a bit interesting, since it’s almost dark and gothicky. Then it has these big tv screens for watching sports, which don’t exactly seem to go together. The kitchen menu is decent (though a bit pricey), with all the usual suspects (mozzarrella sticks, buffalo wings, etc.). We got some appetizers and I got a vodka tonic. Tasty.

Phil enjoyed his birthday outing. The bar proved a fun place for sports fans and non-fans alike. Though I really don’t even know if the Mets won. Oh, well. I know they’re in Game 7 tonight. Go, Mets!

I wasn’t so sure whether or not I wanted to share this home away from home with the world at large – or the world via Wikipages – but I have decided it’s good for business to share, and more business means more nights at Fresh Salt.

Fresh Salt is my all time favorite place to hang out in Manhattan. Just one block away from the maddening crowds on the South Street Seaport’s main drag, this bar and restaurant has yet to be discovered by tourists. The décor is sparse but includes several large comfy booths and outside seating is available in nice weather.

Happy Hour specials here include $3 beers on tap and the food menu is short but delicious. Sandwiches, soups, salads, and hummus platters are the mainstay and I’ve seen many a tear shed over the most perfect of perfect eggplant sandwiches.

As far as the crowd goes, on Thursdays and Fridays before 7PM you might have to battle your way through some suits from the AIG and Goldman locations down the block but the majority of the time you’ll run into locals and sailors from the Seaport Museum.

The music is never too loud, the bar staff are your friends, and you might learn a few knots or pick up knitting if you’re there at the right time of day. In short – show up, pull up a seat at the bar – get yourself a dark and stormy and settle down for a long quiet night full of good conversation. Just remember the corner bar stool doesn’t belong to you, it belongs to a sea captain, a first mate or Carter.

My friend Rose and I wanted to go dancing. But not the kind of dancing that involves a loud, vibrating beat or a disco ball. Swingdancing! I never technically learned how to swing dance. But having done musical theatre and attended college during the swing trend, I can fake it pretty well. Rose, on the other hand, has won swingdancing contests.

We chose Swing 46, a favorite of my old theatre crowd. It’s an upscale place in Midtown with expensive food and even more expensive drinks, but the music and the vibe always pay off. After paying the $10 cover, we sat down with a couple martinis (probably about $12 each). The band playing was Double Down, a fun band that combines Frank Sinatra and Big Bad Voodoo Daddies.

We decided more alcohol was necessary. The most cost-effective way to drink more was to get a bottle. We decided to get the cheapest bottle on the menu, whatever it was. It turned out to be a bottle of, not wine, but champagne! Though, to be accurate, it must have been sparkling wine since I am sure it did not come from the Champagne Province. Whatever! We ordered it and they brought it over, silver standing tray with ice and all! It attracted some attention and some middle-aged Bulgarian men came over, asking us to dance!

So there we were, drinking champagne, and dancing with slightly sketchy, middle-aged Bulgarians. They were decent dancers, actually. (Both Rose and I are in very happy relationships, so we weren’t looking for hotties to dance with, anyway).Then Double Down changed gears and performed a swing version of Thriller. The whole band even jumped off the stage and did the classic dance!

We stumbled out of the club well after 2 am, throwing out the business cards from the Bulgarians on our way down the block, and singing Double Down’s version of “Luck be a Lady”. All in all, a good night out.

I met up with some old friends from highschool and decided to take them to Meskerem, a small, Ethiopian restaurant in the West Village, right near Washington Square Park. Tons of great restaurants in that area! Meskerem is always a good bet, since it’s not usually crowded and it’s not expensive.

The place is small. Just one narrow room. And the service is not excellent. But it’s got funky, exotic decorations, dim lighting, and a tasty menu. Plenty of vegetarian options.

All the dishes are large, meant to be shared. And, of course, they are also meant to be eaten with your hands. OCD folks might not like it, but I’m a slob and I always think it’s fun. I usually order the Vegetarian combo, which has several delicious veggie options. Some are a bit spicey, so beware. I also always try to order Mead, honey wine, but, alas, they never seem to have it. It makes me sad.

We all still got drunk, anyway, on white wine instead. I got complimented on my restaurant selection by my friend, a former Astorian who’s a fan of Ethiopian food. So if you’re looking for a good place to gather with friends in the West Village, and none of you are OCD, I recommend it.

I now work in the Financial District, not my favorite part of town. It’s such a cold, hard place full of corporate types marching and tall buildings towering. But one small place exists in this harsh climate that has a bit of heart.

Stone Street was formerly an abandoned street in disrepair. Then the city made it pedastrian only. First one cafe sprang up, then another, then another. Now the street is lined with outdoor bars and cafes, reminiscent of something in Europe. The place is packed on a Friday, but you can find a seat most other weeknights. Many of the bars host good happy hour deals, like $3 for a glass of wine. There’s also a Swedish place, Smorgas, in the area said to be very tasty!

Last night, I went to Stone Street bar Ulysses with some work friends to let off some steam. The place buzzed with the happy hour crowd, but we found a table all to ourselves. Just like at the Beer Garden, being outdoors added a carnival atmosphere, perfect for destressing after a long day’s work. Two cheap glasses of Savignon Blanc and good company made for a perfect week night out.

So if you want to escape from the coldness of the towering buildings and rushing suits, try this hidden street and enjoy.

One of the best parts of living in New York is the wide variety of “little Italian restaurants” (LIR’s). Growing up in Northern NJ, going into the city to eat, I had thought Italian restaurants are everywhere. But not outside NYC. I’ve searched DC, San Francisco, and others, but have found none that compare.

I have a number of favorite LIR’s in the city, Don Giovani’s, Mezzo Mezzo, Babbo (went there once; wonderful place, but don’t know when I’ll be able to afford it again.) But none of them are as classic NYC as Carmine’s. I only go on occasion, since it really needs to be an occasion to go there.

Last Friday, my friend John Paul’s birthday, he decided naively, at 7:30, that Carmine’s would be a good place to go for dinner. Carmine’s is always packed. Tourists on their way to Broadway shows, families, mobsters, all cram into Carmine’s, especially on the weekend. Luckily, I have connections. Because I’m Italian. So I made a phone call. I seriously did. I made a phone call to a friend who could pull some strings and get us a table for that evening. I felt pretty special.

Carmine’s was packed, as usual. My friend (who pulled the strings) made his way over to us and assured us that our table would be ready in just a few minutes. And, miraculously, it was. For some unknown reason, I always seem to have the same table.

The six of us sat down and ordered a bottle of the house Chianti. My Italian grandfather always only drinks Chianti (Carlo Rossi!) and it just seems appropriate at Carmine’s. The meals are family style, so we got Caesar salad, Penna alla Vodka (my favorite dish), and some meat item or another. As always, the penna alla vodka was amazing. I’m starting to drool just thinking about it.

After a few glasses of Chianti, everyone was laughing, the stress of the work week was slipping away, and we reached that perfect comfort and contentment that every Italian restaurant should create. Then the waiters presented John Paul with a monstrously huge cake containing chocolates, fruits, and, unfortunately, nuts (I’m allergic). Even without my help, the party nearly finished the huge dessert. Apparently, it was delicious. It seemed even more delicious when the waitress gave us our bill and informed us that my string-pulling friend had taken care of coffee and dessert.

Ah, the many joys of little Italian restaurants in the city. It really is the place city on earth, for Italian food. Ok, except for maybe cities actually in Italy.