New York

This post was supposed to be about our trip to St. Pierre & Miquelon and departure from Newfoundland, but NewYork demanded to be written about.

We had a very frustrating time trying to make arrangements to see New York City, and twice decided to miss the Big Apple entirely.

Driving Gregory into the city area was never an option. Based on our experiences in Toronto, we decided to find somewhere to park him, then use public transport and Airbnb accommodation. There are several commuter train lines that feed into the city and we aimed for Newburgh, which has an RV-friendly Walmart and lies between two rail lines.

There was no problem about spending a night at Walmart, but trying to find somewhere safe to leave him after that was hugely frustrating. The stations have parking, but that is intended for commuters and the parking company was not willing to allow overnight parking. We telephoned several storage businesses, but they were either full (most people have put their motor homes and trailers into storage for the winter) or would levy a minimum charge for a month! There were few RV parks in the area. One would accept our vehicle but only on a regular site and asked for a “special” rate of $63 per night. That is very high even if we were using the campground's power and other facilities. On top of all that there would be taxi fares from the parking spot to/from the station, the cost of accommodation and 3 days of eating out instead of self-catering. That was when we decided that seeing New York was going to be just too expensive, and gave up the idea.

So we started driving to give the built-up area a wide berth. There was a National Recreation Area not far away which promised to be a pleasant drive. On the way Eve started making a list of the little things in the vehicle that wanted fixing. Nothing critical, but annoying, like the coat hooks that have come away and the screw holes are too worn to re-use. She came up with a promising idea. “If we leave Gregory with an RV service place, we could visit NYC while the work is done and there would be no storage fee.”

As we came off the interstate highway at Port Jervis we saw a big area full of RVs. We took a look. Yes, they did servicing, but they were booked up until November “winterising” vehicles. Although this is well South of Canada, they still get plenty of snow. But the company did give us two other names. One didn’t answer the ‘phone, and the other one was similarly too busy. But he did have some constructive suggestions. There was a campground very near Port Jervis, and the town is the far end of one of the commuter lines. They might have a more reasonable attitude to an unused vehicle, and it would be a very modest taxi fare to the station.

So we drove to the campground and asked. Face to face gets a better response than a telephone call. The ladies in the office were very pleasant and would let us stay, but had to refer to the manager. The manager had a harsher attitude. There was nowhere to park a vehicle except on a site so we would be charged $41 for that night, while we were on board and $30 per night while we were away. This still seemed very steep. There *were* quite a few sites occupied, but the campground was definitely not full and not likely to be in October. The office ladies disloyally suggested we ask at a new storage facility just down the road. We had seen it on our way, and the yard was almost empty. They’d be keen for some extra cash.

The young man in the storage office, understood our situation, approved of our plan, but was a mere functionary. He, too, had only by-the-month rates and the owner required a signed lease for EVERY storage.

We gave up a second time and drove on to Hackettstown. We parked gratis at Walmart and decided to assuage our disappointment by going out for a meal. We scorned the pizza and pasta establishments and went to a proper grill, with waitress service and metal cutlery. Very extravagant. We told our tale of frustrations to the waitress and also to the manager when she came round. “You can park on our property. I mean it.” She and her husband are also RVers, although they live a fair way outside Hackettstown. She gave us her contact details if we decided to accept.

Back in Gregory, warmed by an excellent meal and wine we decided to take up the offer. The grill was still open so we sent a text message to the friendly manager and hit the Airbnb web site. The first choice responded quickly with a few questions. And then some more. And then declined to host us. The second option was automatic acceptance, and our credit card was levied. We were all set. Until Mickey, the manager, called back. Unbeknownst to her, the neighbours had started some major construction project, and the shared driveway was blocked by the works. It was impossible to get Gregory onto the property.

We spent a restless night, and started again in the morning to find somewhere to park Gregory. We set off to examine the station car park, which Mickey believed had spaces for RVs. On the way we passed a farm shop with lots of parking in a field. We stopped and asked, “May we park here?” It would probably have been OK if we had collected before the end of the week, but they were extremely busy on Saturdays and needed all the space. “How about a truck stop?” Google located one only a few miles away. But we looked at the station in Hackettstown anyway. There weren’t many cars, but there was no provision for RVs and non-commuters would be towed! No go.

Getting out of the car park was a compulsory right turn when we wanted to turn left. But we could turn right and turn around just over there. “There” was a huge gravelled space. With a couple of trucks parked at the back. How about here? The land was owned by a livestock auction company. The office ladies were sympathetic - does this sound familiar - but this time the distant management said OK, for $50 for the 3 nights. Which is a better deal than anywhere else and no taxi required. We paid. We parked neatly. We got the train to Hoboken and a bus to the Airbnb in Jersey City. Whew.

The train. It was huge. I had imagined something like the London Metropolitan Line that goes out to Amersham. This was a giant diesel loco pushing a long line of substantial carriages. But Hackettstown is not a busy station. Only two coaches were 'open' at the start of the journey. Others were made available to passengers as we progressed towards Hoboken. Conductors were busy. After every station they hurried to collect the tickets of the new travellers and place a seat docket in a clip to show that the occupant was bona fide. If we changed seat we had to take the docket with us.

There were lots of stops, and the journey to Hoboken took just over 2 hours for just $5.45 each. Even without senior discount the fare was only $8-odd. Most of the line was through pleasant scenery.

The Hoboken Terminal station hall.

The Airbnb was in Jersey City, which is across the Hudson River from New York City proper, but definitely part of the New York conurbation. The accommodation was basic, but very clean and comfortable. We arrived on a warm day and were grateful that the air conditioning had been left on. We turned it straight off, though. It was a vintage unit that rattled terribly. While we were in the room we were cool enough with just the ceiling fan.

Down the street and turn right and you were in a local shopping area with many, very cheap eating houses. We could choose from Chinese, Mexican, Peruvian, Cuban and others we have forgotten. All our breakfasts were at Rumba's, a Cuban cafe that delivered bacon, eggs, toast, coffee and orange juice (Desayuno #1 – the establishment's first language is Spanish) to both of us for $10, including a generous tip. The waitresses were always smiling, the service was prompt, the bacon crispy and the portions generous. It is still the best coffee we have had in the USA.

To see New York City we decided on a hop-on hop-off bus tour. We selected City Sightseeing as the best deal with 3 bus routes and a boat tour on our 48-hour pass. If you are ever in New York, avoid this company! There was a detail on the web site that we wished to clarify. The 'live chat' box promised us we were first in the queue and would get a response within 3 minutes. “3 minutes” = “Never”. The call centre operator had no idea what offers were available on the web site and guessed at clarification. Luckily she was right. The Internet receipt had to be converted to a “ticket” at the office, where one lady tried valiantly to deal with a queue that stretched to the door while two positions went unstaffed.

The routes ensured that we saw the principal sights, and the company cannot be blamed for the horrible weather. At least they provided plastic ponchos so that the rain ran down our backs and pooled in the plastic seats, soaking our unprotected bottoms.

The live commentary in English was of very variable quality. After explaining the the Health Dept.'s A/B/C grading system of eating houses in New York City, the first guide appeared to know only one fact for the long ride up the West side of Central Park – John Lennon was shot outside Dakota House. We are still ignorant of which building is Dakota House.

A better informed guide getting just as wet as the passengers.

Another guide with a strong New York accent was easy to understand if he spoke directly to us, but over the poor audio system he became completely incomprehensible. We had to hop-off and wait for the next bus.

While we waited we popped into a Lego shop. This is just one of the models on display. There is Duplo for the littlies to play with, and interactive games for ages 10-99.

All the guides punctuated their commentary with pleas for tips. Some were much worse than others. This became an irritation that successfully squashed any willingness to offer a gratuity.

We uncovered a major fraud that is being perpetrated by New York City. Times Square is not a square! It is an area of streets and avenues that intersect at right angles, just like the rest of Manhattan. When questioned about this, one of the guides reckoned that “Times Square” is bow-tie shaped.

The colourful illuminated advertisements of “Times Square” are what we expected.

Part of the route was along Broadway, but not the part with theatres on.

There are a few odd-shaped plots of land in Manhattan. The Flatiron Building is designed to fit the land Mr. Flatiron bought.

Most of the city statues are unpainted bronze. This is the exception. It's probably George Washington. Most of them are.

Day two was easier because (1) we had become familiar with the buses from our base in Jersey City and the Port Authority Terminus, and (2) we did not have to go to the office for “ticketing” again.

We re-rode the Downtown route to Battery Park and walked to one of the boat tour embarkation points. We ended up at the back of the queue, so we didn't get good seats. In the end we went up to the upper deck and stood in the middle. We saw the sights and took our photos.

In case anyone doubts it, we did see the Statue of Liberty.

It was a windy day. This yacht sailing in front of Ellis Island has taken in 2 reefs in the mainsail.

The Manhattan skyline from the water. There is always building going on as one structure is demolished to make way for an even higher one. If what the guides told us is true, some people pay extraordinary amounts to live in New York. We wouldn't live there if they paid us to.

Brooklyn Bridge and the orange Staten Island Ferry.

We left the boat at the Northern jetty, intending to get on the Downtown bus again to link up with the Brooklyn tour. Bad choice. It would probably have been 2 hours quicker to stay on the boat until it set off again, disembark at the Southern jetty and walk back to Battery Park. And at least an hour quicker to walk the whole way.

The traffic is always bad in Manhattan, and that afternoon it reached new heights. We missed the last Brooklyn tour. At least we had 20 interesting minutes in the National Museum of the American Indian.

You might not move for a long time, but you must be trying to. Parking is virtually illegal in Manhattan. This driver is one of thousands ticketed every day for a traffic offence.

Having seen first hand the New York traffic, I wouldn’t drive a golf cart in Manhattan, let alone a 28ft RV.

To get back to the bus station we took the subway. We managed to buy tickets unaided, but had to have help figuring out the route. There was a moment of concern when Bill marched onto the platform, and Eve's ticket was refused by the machine. Luckily there was an office with a human to listen to the tale and admit Eve to the trains. We had to change trains and, to Bill's delight, the second train was the 'A' line. Why was Bill delighted? There is a well-known jazz tune, Take the A Train.

There was more concern when we looked up the times of trains to take us back to our home on wheels. There were none on the Saturday. Or Sunday. Further research discovered that they start at Newark Broad Street and go no further than Dover at the weekend. The buses to Newark were not easy either. We ended up taking an Uber to Newark Broad Street, the train to Dover and another Uber to Hackettstown and Gregory. The cars were certainly not as cheap as the bus/train combination, but they were pretty reasonable.

Maybe the next post will complete our Newfoundland tales.