Manhattan Cemeteries

A few weeks ago I asked my mom if she wanted to go on a tour with me of some of the cemeteries in lower Manhattan and she replied, “I didn’t know there were any cemeteries in Manhattan.” Many people may know about the oldest cemeteries—or rather, graveyards—associated with Trinity Church near the World Trade Center, but even I didn’t know about all of the burial grounds tucked behind fences and in between buildings until I lived here.

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The Cemeteries of the Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue

The Congregation Shearith Israel was America's first Jewish Congregation and was founded in 1654. There are three cemeteries associated with the congregation in Manhattan (a fourth, Beth Olam Cemetery in Ridgewood, has hosted burials for the congregation since 1851). The first is near Chinatown, the second is in Greenwich Village and the third is in Chelsea.

The first cemetery dates back to 1656 and is the first Jewish cemetery in the United States (the Congregation is the oldest in North America). Although the exact location of the original cemetery is not known, it was established at its current location in 1683. Over the years the land has been chiseled away by city expansion and erosion and sadly a lot of the bodies have been disinterred. It's larger than the second, gated (and locked) like the other two, and raised above sidewalk-level so you have to stand on your tip-toes to get a good look.

A special ceremony is held at the cemetery each year on the Sunday before Memorial Day, otherwise the cemetery is closed the public.
55 - 57 St James Place, near Oliver and Madison Streets

The second cemetery was active from 1805-1829 and was used primarily to bury victims of communicable diseases like yellow fever and malaria, as well as for Jews who passed away in New York but were not members of the Congregation. The expansion of the (very desirable) neighborhood has forced many of the remains to be re-interred elsewhere, but a few worn tombstones remain and it is now officially the smallest cemetery in Manhattan.

Closed to the public but it’s so small the entire cemetery can be seen from the sidewalk.
72 W 11th Street, near Sixth Avenue

The third cemetery was in use from 1829-1851 and it’s currently located right across the street from a Trader Joe’s. It appears to be the largest of the three cemeteries, and is in the best condition (a plaque on the fence mentions a recent restoration). However, a lot of the stones are worn to the point of being unreadable from the street.

Closed to the public, but mostly visible from the sidewalk.
W 21st Street, near Sixth Avenue

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Trinity Church

The original graveyard at Trinity Church in lower Manhattan, opened in 1697 and is one of three separate burial grounds associated with the church. The other two are located at the nearby St. Paul's Chapel and uptown at Trinity Church Cemetery and Mausoleum. This is probably the best place for finding classic skull and winged cherub stones in all five boroughs and most of the stones are remarkably well-preserved. Trinity’s most famous resident is Alexander Hamilton, but my favorite epitaph belongs to David Ogden, "who on the 27th of September 1798 in the 29th year of his age fell a victim to the prevailing epidemic." 

Tours of Trinity churchyard are available by request, weather permitting, but self-guided tours are allowed during normal hours—just stay on the paths and be respectful of the historic stones.
Trinity Church: 75 Broadway, between Rector and Liberty Streets
St. Paul’s Chapel: 209 Broadway, between Vesey and Fulton Streets

Trinity Church Cemetery and Mausoleum is the only active cemetery remaining on the island of Manhattan. It’s located between West 153rd and 155th streets with Broadway splitting the grounds into two sections. The west section is set on a hill with beautiful views of the Hudson River and the George Washington Bridge. This is the final resting place of the Astors, Ralph Waldo Ellison, John James Audubon and—more recently—Law & Order’s Jerry Orbach and former New York Mayor Ed Koch.

Gates are open 9am-4pm. The entrance to the east side of the cemetery is on 155th street.
Entrance to the west side is at 70 Riverside Drive, between W 153rd and W 155th Streets.

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African Burial Ground National Monument 

More than 15,000 enslaved and free Africans were buried here during the late 17th and 18th centuries. 419 skeletons were found in the ‘90s during construction of a federal building and in 1993 the site became the first underground New York City and national historic landmark. New York had the second-largest number of enslaved Africans in the nation after Charleston, South Carolina, and this site was designated as a National Monument in 2006. Although it doesn’t look like a traditional cemetery, in 2007, a memorial was dedicated and a visitor center opened in 2010.

Open 10am-4pm, Saturday-Friday.
290 Broadway, New York, NY 10007

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St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral Graveyard + Catacombs

Most of the headstones and catacomb interments date from the 1800s at Old St. Patrick’s Cathedral. The catacombs aren't like the bone-filled niches of Europe, but more like the ones at Green-Wood Cemetery—underground tunnels lined with hermetically sealed crypts and marked with carved stones. There are 35 family crypts and five clerical vaults, in addition to newly-built columbaria.

Notable interments include: members of the Delmonico family, founders of Delmonico's, the first American restaurant to allow patrons to order from a menu; Countess Annie Leary, one of the only Catholics to be included in Mrs. Astor's "The 400," a list of fashionable socialites; and Tammany Hall boss and Congressman "Honest John" Kelly. 

Access to the cemetery and catacombs is available only by taking a tour with Tommy’s New York.
263 Mulberry Street, between Houston and Prince Streets

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New York Marble Cemetery

Founded in 1830, the oldest public non-sectarian cemetery in New York City—not to be confused with the nearby New York City Marble Cemetery—is open at least one day a month during warmer months. The grounds are hidden away down a little alleyway and marked by an arched gate. There are no traditional headstones here—instead, there are 156 below-ground burial vaults with the names of the interred carved in plaques embedded in the surrounding stone wall.

Underground vaults were popular at the time due to health concerns over the burials of people who had suffered from infectious diseases like tuberculosis. The New York Marble Cemetery is available to rent out for parties and weddings (get married and buried!) and still hosts the occasional burial—if your family vault still has space and you have proof of relation.

Open select weekends April-October.
41 1/2 2nd Avenue, between E 2nd and E 3rd Streets

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New York City Marble Cemetery

Just one block east is the New York City Marble Cemetery, established in 1831. The grounds are studded with headstones like a traditional cemetery, along with underground vaults designated with flat, marble markers. It also has a fantastic iron fence and gate, with a wonderful tombstone-shaped sign with arching letters. It's not as secluded as the New York Marble Cemetery, but it's a great place to spend the afternoon and have a picnic amongst hundreds of circa-1800s graves.

Open select weekends May-October.
52-74 E 2nd Street, between Second and First Avenues

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💀 It’s Día de Muertos! Celebrate by browsing my cemetery posts here 💀

St. Patrick's Old Cathedral

St. Patrick's Old Cathedral, completed in 1815 was the seat of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of New York until 1897, when the now more well-known Saint Patrick's Cathedral opened uptown. Old St. Patrick's—a gothic-revival church and designated landmark since 1966—is located on Mulberry Street between Prince and Houston Streets. The cathedral complex includes a Federal-style building across the street that was once the Roman Catholic Orphan Asylum and later the St. Patrick's Convent and Girls School; a graveyard—Manhattan's only Catholic cemetery; and catacombs beneath the church. 

We recently took a tour of the cathedral complex—although the church is still active, the only way to see the cemetery and catacombs is to pay for a tour. I'd been aware of the cemetery and had gazed at it longingly through the always-closed gates so I was excited to finally be able to see the early 1800s headstones up close. The cemetery is surrounded by a brick wall, which was also a designated landmark, in 1968.

Due to space restrictions, interments in the churchyard eventually stopped, but in 2013 they constructed new columbaria "intended primarily but not exclusively for the cremated remains of Roman Catholics." My main complaint about most tours is that I always feel rushed, and unfortunately we spent very little time in both north and south cemeteries.

The remains of one of the churchyard's most famous residents—The Venerable Pierre Toussaint, a former slave on his way to becoming the first African-American saint—were moved to the crypt below the main altar of St. Patrick's Cathedral on Fifth Avenue. In addition to being one of New York Society's leading hairdressers, Toussaint sheltered orphans, fostered children and devoted his life to charity work. A headstone still marks the spot where Toussaint's remains were buried before they were moved to St. Patrick's, a place of honor normally reserved for bishops.

In 1866, a fire destroyed the interior of the church, which was rebuilt and re-opened on St. Patrick’s Day in 1868. Currently, services are given in English, Spanish, and Chinese and the church was awarded Basilica status by Pope Benedict XVI in 2010. If the side altar looks familiar, it's because it was the filming location of the famous baptism scene in The Godfather.

The crown jewel of the church is its pipe organ, the last remaining large, intact piece of its kind built by New Yorker Henry Erben. The nearly 2,500 pipes were carried by horse and carriage and installed by hand just after the Civil War. The organ is in need of a pricey restoration, and the non-profit organization Friends of the Erben Organ (honorary chair: Martin Scorsese) was formed to raise $2 million to ensure its preservation.  

The official name of the tour is the Catacombs by Candlelight, but once again I felt as if we didn't have nearly enough time to explore beneath the church (the tour and guide were great, I just require a lot of time to poke around). These catacombs aren't like the bone-filled niches of Europe, but more like the ones at Green-Wood Cemetery—underground tunnels lined with hermetically sealed crypts and marked with carved stones. There are 35 family crypts and five clerical vaults, in addition to the newly-built columbaria. 

Notable interments include: members of the Delmonico family, founders of Delmonico's, the first American restaurant to allow patrons to order from a menu; Countess Annie Leary, one of the only Catholics to be included in Mrs. Astor's "The 400," a list of fashionable socialites; and Tammany Hall boss and Congressman "Honest John" Kelly.

The tour concludes with a visit inside of the beautiful vault of General Thomas Eckert, a confidant and bodyguard of Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln drafted the Emancipation Proclamation in Eckert's office, and after the war he became president of the Western Union. The walls and ceiling of his spacious vault—I'm not exaggerating when I say it's almost as big as my studio apartment—are lined with Guastavino tiles and the light fixtures still have working, original Edison light bulbs.

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St. Patrick's Old Cathedral
Corner of Mott and Prince Streets
New York, NY
Cemetery and catacombs accessible by tour only.

Canstruction 2017

This is the fourth year that my mom and I have gone to see the Canstruction exhibit in downtown Manhattan (see how this year compares to: 2014 / 2015 / 2016). It’s a quick and technically free—although a food donation is appreciated— thing to do on a chilly weekend afternoon, and by now it's definitely a tradition. We get diner breakfast—the best one within walking distance is the Square Diner—and wander through Brookfield Place, judging all of the sculptures and reminiscing on years past. Every year we agree that the first year was the best, but perhaps what we’re fondly remembering is the novelty or the emptiness of Brookfield Place.

Brookfield Place is essentially a large mall, and the changes over the years have been dramatic. It was nearly empty the first year but is now full of high-end retail, food and offices. This year was the 25th anniversary of Canstruction, NYC, a part of the (now) international non-profit that was founded in 1992.

Competitors come from the design and construction industries, and there are competitions held in 150 cities across the world. The sculptures are created entirely from canned goods, which are then donated to local food banks and relief organizations—more than 50 million pounds of food has been collected since Canstruction began.

My mom and I have realized over the years that a lot of the sculptures are more quickly identifiable when viewed through a camera lens or a phone screen—like a pointillism painting they can be hard to decipher from close-up. I love seeing what teams come up with each year, and some sculptures are topical, some are classics, and some are a bit of a snooze. I always appreciate the way people manage to work food or can puns into their titles, and while some are more successful than others, I’m still waiting for a team to top my all-time favorite, The Sta”tuna” of Liberty (although "Beauty and the Feast" came close this year).

From the top: pretzel, Pixar lamp, Pac CAN, jellyfish, subway train emerging from a tunnel, jack-o-lantern, Pokemon character (I forget which one), Popeye the Sailor CAN, "coexist" rainbow, triangle, Giving Tree, Fearless in the Face of Hunger, Beauty and the Feast, Duck Hunt, On Track to End Hunger, lotus flower, and Pining to End Hunger.

Korean Chrysanthemums

I've seen (and photographed) the incredibly lovely Korean Chrysanthemums at the Conservatory Garden in Central Park for the last few years (2014 // 2016), and this year I just caught them in time. When I went to check on them over lunch, they were beginning to be removed and they were definitely past their peak. The first year I posted about them, I thought they were daisies because I know absolutely nothing about plants. Someone who obviously knows much more about these things than I do was kind enough to correct me, and now I feel superior in my (still woefully limited) plant knowledge every time I spot another Korean Chrysanthemum. 

I've never been really disappointed to find that the flowers I've gone to visit are already half-dead, and I even sometimes prefer the crispy versions to their lively counterparts. Maybe it's all the time I spend reading about death and decay (and pining after senior rescue dogs), but I try my best to appreciate living beings at every stage of their beautiful lives. 

We went to see Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri this weekend—it's great, go see it!—and I fell in love with Frances McDormand's wrinkly, malleable, age-appropriate, fascinating face. It's refreshing to see a woman in Hollywood unapologetically exhibiting beauty and bravery on an unaltered face, and her performance was riveting not in spite of, but because of it. 

I've been struggling with how to wrap my head around this onslaught of sexual assault news, and what it says about a woman's place in our world. I certainly have my share of #metoo stories—mostly small, but they add up—and I'm trying to harness all of this hurt, bewilderment and rage into something useful. I've certainly been complicit in the degradation of others in my past—in the service of powerful men, and of my own volition—but it always felt wrong and I'm sorry. I'm trying to focus on the positive, on the healing power of sharing stories, on the beauty in the decay, and on the fact that women are incredibly powerful when we work with, and not against, each other.

Little Red Lighthouse

Jeffrey's Hook Lighthouse, unofficially known as the Little Red Lighthouse, is located in Fort Washington Park right under the George Washington Bridge in Washington Heights. The small piece of land that it stands on is known as Jeffrey's Hook, named after the man that owned the land before it was acquired by the city in 1896.

The lighthouse was originally built for Sandy Hook, NJ, and it stood there as the North Hook Beacon until becoming obsolete in 1917 (it was replaced by a much larger light). It was moved in pieces and reconstructed at its current spot in northern Manhattan, to help reduce accidents at one of the narrowest sections of the Hudson River. But the construction of the George Washington Bridge (and its 24-hour, bright lights) once again made the lighthouse obsolete, and it was decommissioned in 1948.

There were plans to auction off (and melt down) the lighthouse, but it was saved by a public campaign led mostly by school children, who were familiar with the lighthouse thanks to Hildegarde Swift's 1942 children's book,The Little Red Lighthouse and the Great Gray Bridge. Control of the lighthouse passed from the Coast Guard to the City Department of Parks and Recreation in 1951 and it became a New York City landmark in 1991.

This past weekend was Open House NY weekend, that magical two days where places in all five boroughs open their doors, providing tours and exclusive access to spots not normally (or sporadically) open to the public. There wasn't much on the list this year that I absolutely had to check out (past favorites have been the TWA Flight Center, Marine Air Terminal, Treasures in the Trash Collection, Brooklyn Army Terminal and The Four Seasons) but I was excited about getting inside of the lighthouse. I'd been to Fort Washington Park a few times, and spied on it from above while walking across the George Washington Bridge, but I'd never been inside.

The lighthouse is small—constructed of 48 pieces of cast iron—and doesn't have space for a live-in keeper. It was relighted by the city in 2002, and the red light now turns on and off every day by a timer. There's not much room inside for anything but a spiral staircase to the top, but it's always thrilling to get behind-the-scenes access.

High Line

On a particularly lazy recent Sunday, I reached the point of ultimate Netflix judgment, watching Gilmore Girls for so long I was asked "are you still there?" I knew I had to get off the couch eventually, but I was having a hard time coming up with a plan. I finally decided to walk the High Line—a new segment had opened since I had last walked its length and the park now runs from 34th Street between 11th and 12th Avenues to Gansevoort Street.

The High Line was opened as an elevated train track in 1934. The last train ran on the tracks in 1980, and it was abandoned until planning began for a park in the late 90s. The first section opened in 2009. The northernmost section looks over the train storage at Hudson Yards and catching a sneak peek at the inner workings of the city is always interesting to me. 

I absolutely love the concept and execution of the High Line. The wildflowers and slightly overgrown feel make it easy to imagine what the track felt like abandoned and the views of the city and surrounding buildings are always excellent. Every time I go it seems like a new, fancy building is springing up within feet of the park—but I was happy to see that one of the last stand alone diners left in Manhattan is still going strong. 

I really want to love the High Line and I do, as far as the concept, but every time I go I remember why I don't go very often—it's far too crowded. Sure, it was a sunny summer Sunday, so I'm not surprised it was packed, but walking in a single-file line behind a thousand tourists is not exactly my idea of a relaxing afternoon. It's a wonderful addition to the city and of course I understand its popularity, but I think I'll skip the sunny Sundays from now on and plan my visits for when park walks are a little less desirable. 

2nd Avenue: 92nd-34th Streets

One of my doctors' offices is located on First Avenue at 37th Street. I had an after-work appointment recently and it was a beautiful night so I decided to walk from 92Y at Lexington Avenue and 92nd Street. I've done this before and walked down First Avenue, so this time I chose to walk down Second Avenue (Third, you're next!).

I had about an hour, which wasn't really enough time and by the end of it I was nearly jogging to make it to my appointment on time. I walk fairly quickly, I think, but I'm constantly stopping to take photos and criss-crossing the avenue whenever I see something that catches my eye. I'm never really looking for anything super specific on these city walks, but there are things that I will always love: novelty neon, hand-painted signage and anything that looks like old New York to me or makes me laugh.

I would eventually love to take walks like this around the entire city (although maybe just Manhattan is more realistic). Taking this enormous city in tiny slices like this is so much fun to me—the city can be so overwhelming that giving myself constraints (however arbitrary) always helps me focus. I notice things I would probably miss otherwise—like a table for two set precariously over a sidewalk hatch or a fake greenery backdrop only somewhat succeeding at obscuring a construction fence. 

Recently we were having dinner at P.J. Clarke's, a restaurant that has been in business since 1884, and I mentioned that in New York it seems as if businesses are either a hundred years old or brand new—there's not much middle ground. I've already been here long enough to see longtime businesses close (and in some cases be demolished completely) and I'm getting more used to change—but that doesn't make it any easier to know that relics like the hand-painted teal and gold Louis Mattia lighting store sign will inevitably be replaced soon by something far less special.

Welcome to New York

When I heard that Donald Trump was coming to New York for the first time since he was inaugurated, I knew I needed to find a protest to join. New York has been begrudgingly dealing with its native son far before he was forced upon the rest of the country, and it brings me a small bit of joy to know that he's despised—and lost bigly—in his beloved hometown. 

I haven't joined a protest in a while (since the Immigration and Women's Marches), and it was long overdue. I'm afraid that people are already becoming complacent and I can't say I blame them—it's impossible to sustain a high level of constant rage without it ruining your life. It's silly to admit, but I recently started watching The Handmaid's Tale (along with everyone else) and the back story has been terrifying in a way that I didn't expect it to be—it's all too similar to what I see happening in real life and it reignited my sense of urgency to speak up before it's too late.

I don't think that the guy in the Trump mask (teeing off with Planet Earth) and the guy dressed as Melania knew each other, but it's fitting that they met in New York. A bright spot of these protests is all of the creativity that is on display, and I get overwhelmed at how awesome people can be when they unite around a common theme.

I was actually a little disappointed in the size of the crowd—it should have been much larger. Trump was speaking at the Intrepid, which is on the far west side, and then scurrying away to New Jersey where he'll spend the night at one of his resorts. Maybe it was too far out of the way or too chilly or maybe it was the last minute change in schedule (he arrived three hours late) but I wish the entire city had shown up to show Trump just how (un)welcome he is in New York.

When it comes to Trump and his administration, there are literally endless things to protest, but most of the signs and messages were New York or healthcare-specific. Sure, these protests don't accomplish much in the immediate sense, but they definitely make it clear to me that New York is my city and these are my people.

New Yorkers have the stereotype of being cold and uncaring, but the people I met were so nice, supportive and thoughtful. I can't say the same of the small number of smug and enthusiastic Trump supporters (how do these people still exist) who were hurling insults at us from underneath bullet-proof vests and Make America Great Again hats. America is already great, and look no further than to a bunch of New Yorkers for proof.

Museum of Interesting Things

In the words of Denny Daniel, the founder and curator of the Museum of Interesting Things, the museum "is a traveling interactive demonstration/exhibition of antiques and inventions inspiring innovation and creativity—learning from the past to create a better future." My mom and I recently took a "tour" of the museum via the New York Adventure Club.

I use the word tour loosely, however, since when it's not traveling, the museum is located in Daniel's East Village apartment. My mom and I have always loved interesting things (who doesn't?) and we spent a great many weekends perusing thrift stores and flea markets while I was growing up in Ohio. I think living in New York is preferable to Ohio in almost every way, with one exception being that the thrifting/flea situation here is dismal. It's not that there aren't treasures, but they're almost all laughably expensive. I used to run an online shop while I still lived in Ohio for second-hand gems, and part of my motivation to start selling my interesting finds was the fear that I'd end up like Daniel—with piles and piles and piles of stuff.

I shut down my shop when I moved to New York and sold all of my inventory before I left, but I still miss spending hours sorting through trash to find treasure. I will always identify with people like Daniel, and his enthusiasm for all of the objects he showed us was infectious. I love joyful, genuine people and Daniel was knowledgeable, talkative and infinitely curious. He has phonographs, cameras, stereoscopes, magic lanterns, camera obscuras, 8-tracks, record players, stacks of tvs, film reels and countless other collections, not all of which are currently housed in his apartment.

He has the Moviola film-editing machine that Tim Burton used to edit dailies of Pee-Wee's Big Adventure, a Nickelodeon on which we watched A Trip to the Moon, a collection of World's Fair memorabilia, a piece of the Enigma code-breaker machine and is a self-proclaimed expert on carrier pigeons and organ grinder monkeys.

But the most interesting of all the interesting things was something he called "Bones and Ribs," a bootleg gramophone recording from Soviet-era Russia that was pressed onto x-ray film, in this case a skull x-ray. I pride myself on knowing a little about a lot of weird things, but this was something I might never knew existed if it hadn't been for Denny Daniel and his collection.

Central Park: Snow

I love snow. I grew up in Northeast Ohio so I'm no stranger to the frozen white stuff, but I never experienced a New York City snowstorm until a few years ago. It was during my two-month "trial period," which took place January-March of 2013 that I finally saw the city blanketed in snow, and immediately fell in love. To see my favorite city in my favorite weather was almost too much to bear, and even four years later I'm still enamored with the winters here.

My first winter as a full-time resident just happened to include the second snowiest February on record. I was in heaven, but also—I realize now—spoiled. We've yet to have a similar winter in the three years since, and last year although we got 30-some inches of snow, 90% of it came in one day and melted by the next. This year has been slightly better, and even though I was denied entry to Green-Wood Cemetery, I still had a magical day back in January frolicking through a snowy Prospect Park. 

Luckily that wasn't our last storm of the season, and yesterday I was delighted to wake up to near-blizzard conditions outside my window. Although my commute was a bit harrowing (I almost got blown across Lexington Avenue), it was all worth it when we were released early and I was able to spend the rest of the afternoon in Central Park. I sadly don't get to the park as much now that I live in Brooklyn, so I was thrilled to be able to spend a few hours checking in on all of my favorite spots.

I walked from 92nd Street down Fifth Avenue and entered the park by the Met Museum. I walked past Belvedere Castle and the Delacorte Theater, through the Ramble and Bethesda Terrace. I love, love, love the Bethesda Fountain, and the angel looks even better with snowy highlights. I made my way down the Literary Walk—one of my very favorite places on Earth—around the pond and over the Gapstow Bridge.

I'm concerned that climate change may make snowy days like this increasingly rare (it was in the 60s on Wednesday) so I'm trying to appreciate them while they are still fairly common. I don't have to drive on icy roads, scrape a windshield or shovel a driveway and although city snow gets gross pretty quickly, it will always be magical to me.

No Hate, No Fear

Just one week after I joined the Women's March in Washington D.C., I found myself marching once again—this time in a different city, for a different cause, but with similar intentions. The first days of Donald Trump's presidency have brought a seemingly endless stream of gut-punches to core American values, and this particular protest was a reaction to Trump's executive order barring immigrants from majority-Muslim countries and Syrian refugees.

I know that I can't possibly join every protest, but I've been so outraged and dismayed since the election—and even more so since the inauguration—that I just have to do something. It's important to me that I stand up for injustices when I see them, and not just when an issue directly affects my life. I also believe that all citizens, Americans and humans should be outraged whenever basic human rights are in jeopardy, and I feel that it's my duty to use the privilege I've been afforded to help draw attention to those less fortunate.

The protest took place on Sunday, two days after the executive order, and ran smoothly despite the quick turnaround. Because of the tight timeline, it did feel a bit more spontaneous than the Women's March, but I loved the last-minute nature of some of the signs and participants—time to polish is good, but scrappiness sometimes has more heart.

Thousands of people gathered in Battery Park, which has views of Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. The National Museum of the American Indian is nearby, as is the Museum of Jewish Heritage. After a rally featuring speeches by Chuck Schumer, Kirsten Gillibrand, Cory Booker, Linda Sarsour and others, we marched to the courthouses at Foley Square.

We marched past the World Trade Tower, and the site of the 9/11 attacks and it was very powerful to be protesting a muslim ban in a city that has lost the most lives to terrorist attacks on the US. New Yorkers aren't afraid of muslims or Syrians because we interact with them on a daily basis and know that they're just people—boring, mundane, annoying, wonderful, beautiful people.

I know that marches will not change everything (or sometimes anything) but I do think it's important for people to pitch in when and where they can. Stand up, speak up and let your voice be heard. This is just the very beginning, and we must not lose momentum and we must not lose hope. Hope that America—a nation of immigrants—is better than our President thinks we are, hope that there are good people out there that are finally standing up for what is right, and hope that we don't go back because the only way out is forward.

Greenwich Locksmiths

There are certain areas of New York that I know better than others, and 7th Ave South around Bleecker Street in the West Village is one of them. Before I ever moved here I found myself in this part of town often for various reasons, but mainly to eat. There seems to be an unusually high concentration of delicious restaurants on Bleecker in particular between 7th and 6th Avenues, including John's Pizzeria, my favorite New York pizza place. One day, however, I found myself walking just a bit further down 7th Avenue for some reason and was stopped dead in my tracks by Greenwich Locksmiths.

The 125-square-foot stand alone shop was opened in 1970, and has miraculously remained open and intact in an area that has experienced mind-boggling change and sky-rocketing property values in the last 47 years. But the most amazing thing about Greenwich Locksmiths isn't its staying power, but the fact that its facade is covered in the most wonderful art installation—made entirely of keys.

The amazing display is relatively new—created around 2010—but covers nearly every surface of the shop. There's even a chair made of keys, and a collection of old keys and padlocks in the window like a mini-key museum. 

Philip Mortillaro, the owner and master locksmith, owns the building and despite lucrative offers to sell, he insists that he—and his tiny shop—will remain on 7th Avenue until he dies. 

Lower Manhattan

A few weekends ago, after diner breakfast at the Landmark Coffee Shop in Chinatown, I set off wandering. I had no destination and no plans, which is always how some of my favorite adventures come to be. I don't consider myself a "photographer" by any means, but I do love having the time and space to take photos without agenda. Photographing storefronts, signage and city life that catches my eye as I wander aimlessly is one of my most treasured activities.

In addition to exploring Chinatown, I wandered the streets of Soho, TriBeCa and the Lower East Side. Our diner was right across from a hotel proclaiming that it was in "SoLita" which we laughed about—although a lot of neighborhood names begin as ridiculous branding experiments by real estate agents, that one seemed particularly forced.

At one point I stumbled upon Staple Street, an approximately 476-foot-long mini street north of the World Trade Center. I'd been there once before looking for a Banksy piece, but I was still in awe of how much I could instantly love a single street. With no room for street parking and an intriguing skybridge, I immediately said outloud (to no one, because New York is making me crazy) "This is officially my favorite street in New York." If I hadn't been there myself, I would swear that Staple Street was on a Hollywood backlot—it's almost too cute.

I passed so many lovely new-to-me storefronts with beautiful signs, awnings and neon. The Chambers St. Smoke Shop sign stopped me dead in my tracks—it looks as if it had been covered for years and just recently got revealed when the occupant left. The store is now vacant and for rent, and I can only hope that the new tenants don't destroy such a beautiful old sign.

I made friends with a window cat, stared up at the skyline like a tourist and found a funeral home with the most wonderful stained glass windows. I've been thinking a lot lately about what makes me happiest, and trying to do more of those things—city walks like this are high on that list.

Chinatown

I used to designate Chinatown as my least favorite neighborhood in New York. My dislike mostly stemmed from the proliferation of open-air seafood markets—if you know me, you know of my fear and disgust for most seafood—and the shear number of people that crowd its narrow sidewalks. But recently I've wandered around the Lower East Side and Chinatown more frequently, and have found myself falling more and more in love with both neighborhoods.

The turning point for me came when I started to veer off from the main tourist drag and really explore the side streets. Chinatown is actually a very large neighborhood, one that seems to be growing and infiltrating Little Italy and the LES. I would argue that the "real" Chinatown is closer to East Broadway, under the Manhattan Bridge and away from the perfume shops and guys whispering "Rolex, Rolex" on Canal Street.

Chinatown seems less spoiled by chain stores and luxury apartment buildings than most of Manhattan, which feels like a remarkable triumph. There are so many handpainted signs, interesting shops, beautiful storefronts, ornate apartment facades and delicious smells (I still try to avoid the seafood markets) to make you feel as if you've traveled thousands of miles from New York—without ever leaving Manhattan.

New Yorker Hotel

Recently we took an Untapped Cities "behind the scenes" tour of the New Yorker Hotel. The New Yorker Hotel was built in 1929 on 34th Street and 8th Avenue. It's 43-stories tall, 1-million square feet and has 1,083 rooms. The hotel is an Art Deco gem, with an enormous and iconic marquee sign that can be seen from miles away. I actually stayed at the New Yorker once when I visited the city with my friends years ago, but on this tour we got to see parts of the hotel usually off-limits to visitors.

One of the first places that we visited was the sky lounge and the rooftop. I'm not really afraid of heights but being 43-stories above the city on a windy, cold night was as scary as it was thrilling. The sign is crazy big when you're right next to it, and the different perspective was really fascinating. I think I could live here my entire life and still be wowed by the skyline—even Madison Square Garden manages to look charming from above.

We also got to explore the lower levels of the hotel, including remnants of the original DC power plant. When it was built, the hotel was powered by coal-fired steam boilers and generators in what was then the largest private power plant in the US—it was later modernized to AC power in the 60s, and now sits abandoned.

The best part of the tour, however, was seeing the entrance to a tunnel that once connected the hotel to the subway and Penn Station. The tunnel is blocked off now—and the New Yorker is now rebranded as a Wyndham hotel—but in my dreams I would be able to traverse the tunnel and magically emerge on the other side into the original Pennsylvania Station.

Holiday Windows 2016: Saks Delights

Despite the insane crowds that infiltrate Midtown at this time of year, I do like the holiday season in New York for the same reason it attracts crowds—it's impossibly charming. The Rockefeller tree is always smaller and more raggedy than I imagine, and five minutes of navigating the Fifth Avenue sidewalks is enough to commit anyone to Bellevue for observation.

But then you pass an intricate holiday window, or it begins to snow and it feels like you're living inside of a real life city snow globe. While we've yet to have our first real snow, the holiday windows have been revealed, and I went to check out my favorites this past weekend.

 By now it's tradition to gawk at the window displays (Bergdorfs, Saks and Bloomingdale's) and compare them to years past—I still maintain that 2013 is the year to beat, but maybe I'm just nostalgic for my first holiday season in the city. Saks Fifth Avenue always splits their windows, with a main theme featuring animatronic scenes (two years ago they did Fairy Tales, and the year before that featured the Yeti), with the side windows featuring Saks fashion. This year there was a candy theme to all of their decorations, although I think last year's icy theme was better overall.

The best part about the Saks windows is that they reflect the Deco beauty of neighboring Rockefeller Center, adding to that city-in-a-snow-globe feeling. The candy theme was a good idea, but the execution felt a little cheap—not something you expect from Saks—with large, shiny plastic lollipops and candy canes and... not much else. I do, however, very much appreciate that they set up barriers so you're forced to form an orderly line if you'd like to view the windows up close. They even have a bouncer to maintain order, which is something that other stores with holiday displays (especially Bergdorfs) should think about adopting.

Saks Fashion Windows: 2014 | 2015

Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade: Balloon Inflation 2016

I've seen the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in person two-and-a-half times now, and this will be my fourth consecutive Thanksgiving spent in the city (we visited a year before I moved and caught half of the parade). The parade will always feel nostalgic and so very New York to me—we watched it every year while I was living in Ohio, and finally seeing it in person was a life highlight. I'm definitely not done seeing it in person, but this year I decided to brave the balloon inflation instead.

Every year the balloons are inflated the night before the parade, in the streets bordering the American Museum of Natural History. The inflation starts at 3pm and viewing ends at 10pm—the later you go, the more inflated the balloons will be. I arrived at the beginning of the (incredibly long) line at around 4:30pm, and the balloons were entirely inflated when I reached them around 6pm. I was expecting and dreading a large (child-full) crowd, but I was prepared and stayed pretty zen as strollers nipped my heels.

Once we actually arrived at the balloons, however, the crowd loosened a bit and the views were incredible. I tried not to smile too outrageously—I was by myself—but I couldn't help but be giddy seeing the balloons so closely. The best views of the balloons can be had in the parade, of course, but most were repeats that I had already seen in previous years. It's also fascinating to catch a glimpse into the inner-workings of such a large event, and there were tons of workers in jumpsuits inflating, securing and keeping watch over the balloons.

I think I'm a little too old-fashioned (and maybe just too old) to care much about the new(er) character balloons—Trolls, Thomas the Tank Engine, Paddington Bear, Pikachu, The Elf on a Shelf, Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Scrat from Ice Age—but the classic Macy's balloons—stars, pumpkins, elves, the hippo and the Harolds (policeman and fireman)—really feel like Thanksgiving to me. Seeing the balloons did make me a little bit sad that I won't be seeing the parade this year, but then I saw a man in a turkey hat taking a selfie in front of an elf balloon and realized just how thankful I am for this city and this life.

Thanksgiving Day Parade: 2013 | 2014

Subway Therapy

A day after Donald Trump was elected president (a phrase I still can't believe is real), an artist set up "Subway therapy" in a 14th Street subway corridor. People were encouraged to write down their thoughts on a Post-it Note and stick it to the wall. It has since spread to other spots—a week later there are thousands of messages in Union Square, and people are still adding to the multi-layered, multi-surface creation.

I—like a lot of people I know—was devastated by the election results. We had gone to the Javits Center to celebrate what was sure to be a historic night, and left at midnight before any official announcement, but with heavy hearts. I barely slept at all that night, but I was actually glad to get up and go into work in the morning, knowing that I wouldn't be alone in my grief. As hard as this has been, I can only imagine how hard it would be to weather alone—a minuscule dot of blue in a red state—and I've never been more thankful to wake up in New York City.

The messages on the wall seem mostly positive, although the "Fuck Trump" sentiment is not underrepresented. Just scanning the messages made me tear up—I know I live in one of those "liberal bubbles" and I'm surrounded by "coastal elites," but it's comforting to know that New Yorkers are generally in agreement about our country's current (and terrifying) situation.

I've been feeling so many emotions this past week, but one of the main ones is helplessness. Everything that has gone wrong or every dreadful thing yet to come seems too large to even really comprehend, let alone stop. I know a few thousand Post-it Notes are not going to stop the fact that Donald Trump is our President-elect, but behind every Post-it is a real, live person—people that aren't willing to remain silent anymore, people that know that love is stronger than hate and people that I truly believe will prove that we are, indeed, stronger together.