Wild Wild West (Village)

I've been home for over a week now but incredibly today was only my second full day in the city. As my first full day was the day after 24 hour of traveling (23 of which were spent wide awake listening to crying babies, despite ample quantities of sleeping pills, complementary red wine,an eye mask and ear plugs. By the end i sort of wished i could join their wailing and have it be socially acceptable...) I was in no state to explore.

But today, sans jet leg (or at least i thought i was until i tried to pay for a coffee today with my driver's license...) I finally got the ball rolling on my mission to acquaint myself with new parts of the Big Manzana. After I assured him I wouldn't drag him into any museums, my not so little little brother Jared (who happens to be almost a full foot taller than i am) agreed to come along for moral support and to take photographs. In addition to being a fantastic electric guitarist, amateur architect, and ace tennis player, he's also a very gifted photographer. And he's single ladies!

I gave him the option of going to Brooklyn or the West Village and he voted on the latter, mainly out of desire to see the newly opened High Line Development - a park built on the long defunct West Side line elevated railroad tracks. So we hopped on the (thankfully) still running subterranean 6 Line and made our way downtown.

Tools upon arrival in the West Village

After trading rats and body heat for the oppressive humidity of NYC's streets in summer, we strolled to our first stop: 75 1/2 Bedford Street. At 9 1/2 feet wide, 75 1/2 Bedford Street is the narrowest building in all of Manhattan.

Weeee. I can almost reach across it

But what the lithe townhouse lacks in width, it makes up for in history. Among past occupants are poet Edna St. Vincent Millay, Cary Grant, Shrek cartoonist William Steig, and John Barrymore. After soaking in this celebrity-packed roll call, Jared and I discussed why the past occupants might have been attracted to living in such svelte quarters, and what they sacrificed in order to do so.

What we decided:

The proximity of the walls would make for fantastic canadian doubles tennis (you and one wall vs the other wall) but in return residents would have to give up hosting parties (and remember, they're celebrities), fattening foods and pet elephants. I think I'll stick to normal-width housing so i can continue to eat haagen daaz and cling to my dream of adopting a Saharan elephant named Maserati that i could ride around instead of taking the subway or cabs.

Before we shoved off, I ran at the door to try to make it to Diagon Alley II (with an address like 75 1/2 I'm pretty sure the door concealed a magic shopping street) but to no avail.

WWHD? (What would Harry do?)

Though had i been alone i probably would have kept trying for hours, I begrudgingly gave up after Jared threatened to call the police and report me for attempted breaking and entering. I was pretty confident I wouldn't have been arrested, but after the recent Henry Lewis Gates fiasco, I wasn't willing to take my chances.

From Bedford Street we strolled up Hudson Street and then over to 10th avenue where we stumbled upon some very quirky buildings. First, on West 11th between Washington and West , we found this interesting specimen.

You can park your car...

And then take a roman bath!

I just googled it (you can see the name "Palazzo Chupi" if you look closely at the 2nd picture) and it is not the illegitimate love child of an antique garage and italian palazzo as i had expected, but a residential building with 5 disgustingly expensive units (we're talking $27 Million here) designed by artist Julian Schnabel.

Then walking up West Street (which turns into 10th avenue further up) we wandered into this gloriously galactic apartment complex.

Attack of the Pod-Shaped Balconies

Beam me up Scotty!

I fully expected an alien space ship to hover over the opening at the top of the building at suck us up to serve them as slaves for the rest of eternity. We thankfully remained earthbound but not willing to take our chances we left the building like Elvis.

Then it was on to our final destination and the main reason for our journey to the West Village: The High Line.

At the beginning of the High Line

The High Line is an impressively successful attempt of redeveloping a derelict urban space into an attractive destination. Chelsea, the Meatpacking District and Harlem were similarly revamped but I have never seen or heard of a transformation from grimy to trendy where the product was intended for the general public. Only the likes of movie stars and Wall Street honchos can afford lofts in the converted warehouses on 9th avenue, but the High Line is for everyone.

It is also impeccably designed. Instead of trying to conceal the area's grimy past, the designers embraced it - incorporating the old railroad tracks and covering them in chaotic grasses and flowers. Although based on the number of gardeners I spotted pruning I'm sure it's more contrived than it looks, the landscaping is very unkempt giving High Line the feel of an abandoned oasis.

A different kind of wilderness meet the concrete jungle

Getting in touch with the tracks of High Line's Past

Another awesome detail was an area with theater style tiered seating that faces huge windows that look out on the spectacle of 10th avenue. Or as my friend Lizzie told me she often did this summer, a person could choose to sit in the front row facing away from the window to watch the people watching the window. Twisted.

To watch 10th avenue or people watch? That is the question.

Immediately upon descending the stairs at the end of the High Line, we were confronted by the distinctive sound of accordian music. Following our ears we stumbled on this unlikely sight and i remembered for the 10th or 11th time today why I love New York so much.

Yes that is an accordian player in a starwars sith helmet using a sushi rice container (complete with about 2 cups of rice left in it) to collect tips

And now ladies and gents its bed time for me. Siddhartha Obama and I both hope that the (inner) peace be with you until i check in next.

Ohmmmmmm(bama)