I walk a lot. Because I am cheap, and because New York is a city that rewards the walker. I walk a lot and take a lot of pictures, because this is also a city that changes with a breathless, frighteningly rapid pace. Sometimes for the best, sometimes for the worse, but either way what once was probably won’t be for long, so you can always stick around for the next iteration if you don’t like what you see today. So here’s thirty scenes, photographed with no particular skill on my part, in Manhattan and Brooklyn.
Brooklyn’s sprawling, historic Green-Wood Cemetery has fast become one of my favorite places in the city. This cemetery-as-park serves as the last resting place for many of the city’s most famous figures, as well as a few of its most infamous. On a recent walking tour of the cemetery, I visited some of the most notorious scalawags and tragic figures.
Another frolic afield! This time I’m over on Alcohol Professor again, writing about the history of Brooklyn Brewery and the New York Distilling Company, two Brooklyn-local efforts sharing a common founder. Will whiskey be sampled after the tours? Sadly, not yet. But beer and gin? They’ve got that covered.
Over at Alcohol Professor, I have some things to say about Odd Bedfellows, a whiskey tasting at Brooklyn’s Tooker Alley that focused on whiskey that breaks the mold and challenges the imbiber with flavors and ideas not commonly associated with the spirit.
Green-Wood Cemetery is one of New York’s most storied historic spots, a garden cemetery that was conceived not just as a resting place for many of New York’s most famous and infamous citizens, but also as a park and spot to simply promenade in your weekend finery. Located in Brooklyn and on the site of the Revolutionary War’s Battle of Brooklyn, the cemetery is a beautiful, sprawling oasis filled with greenery, flowers, monuments, and of course, some of the city’s most famous dead — as well as some local parrots.
“Hold on, hold on!” I shouted into the cell phone pressed against my ear in a vain and laughable attempt to seal out the cacophony of a passing delivery truck with a faulty muffler as it scurried out of the way of a fire engine.
“I can’t hear a damn thing,” I said, more to myself than to the distant, tinny voice trickling forth from the phone and struggling to be heard over the din with a determined might (or is it desperation?) not unlike that exhibited by those baby sea turtles who plunge for the first time into the unforgiving sea and must paddle wildly in flight from the myriad predators lined up to gobble them whole. I did my best to pin the phone between my shoulder and head so I could free my hands for scrawling down the directions on the rare event that I was able to hear them. Let’s see. Downtown F train at West 4th. Take that to the Carroll Street stop in Brooklyn. Leave the subway station and look for 2nd Street…