July 27, 2006
The world IS flat!
there's a place where the earth meets the sea, where the high western ridge of Long Island falls into the shimmering reflected lights that shine onto the water's edge. It's there, where the world seems to en, that a New Yorker feels as though it indeed has.
In the evening, when the sun has set over the Port of Bayonne and the twilight pines its last glimmer, the distant horizon becomes blacker than black. Not even the constant allumination of the city pierces the void of a starless night over the Atlantic. It is the lights of the Verizano-Narrows bridge that fill their absence as it climbs from these banks to Staten Island.
Originally, this western ridge of New Amsterdam was called Yellow Hook, named after the yellowish earth that lay beneath its wooded banks. Though after the spread of Yellow Fever in 1849, the Dutch ancestry that had cultivated cabbage and potatoes along this ridge for 150 years abandoned their homes, taking with them the name that had brought bad favor to such a fatal disease.
The small enclave of farmers in what was the Village of New Utrecht, gave way to a new expanse of immigrants settleing in old Brooklyn and New York. Before long, what was now known as Bay Ridge, was swallowed up by the larger New York, just as the Atlantic sky swallows up the sea at the end of the day.
It was Giovanni Verrezanno who first explored this shore while sailing under a French flag in 1524. I often wonder that if his Italian counter part, Christopher Columbus, had been born in these lands, might he have peered off into the horizon and wondered if the world did end beyond these shores? Indeed, it’s easy to think that as you step from the R-line of the New York City subway, after the conductor announces that you’ve arrived at 96th Street, the end of the line.
“!All passengers must now leave. This train is going out of service!”
The other night I ventured to bay Ridge with LK for the first time. I had been there before for matters of a quick visit. But I had not explored the reaches on this southern end of Brooklyn, much like verrezano might have explored it in his day. For those visiting New York, with time to spare and a desire not to be caught up in the stampede of tourists, I would recommend taking the R-train to its final resting place in Brooklyn.
On a hot summer day, the breeze is cool from the Atlantic, and the air is heavy with the sweet flavor of salt and the sea. The path along Shore ave. offers an impressive view of the verrezano Straight, and in the winter a clear view into Hudson bay. I had discovered that there is a museum at Ft. Hamilton, which is under the verrezano-Narrows Bridge on the protection of the harbor. And the turn of last century homes offer a different feel from the more stoic brownstones of Brooklyn and the city.
In all this, there is a greater sense of adventure, of exploration, as one peers through the arches of the mighty suspension cables and looks into the darkness that called so many explorers to sea. It’s easy to live in New York and forget about the ocean. I had gone to Coney Island one afternoon, to pass the time walking along the boardwalk, when a visitor came up to me and asked what the body of water was at the beaches end.
“The Atlantic,” I said.
“You mean we’re on the Atlantic Ocean?”
“Yeh, we sure are,” I replied.
His voice was rural Americana, perhaps from the plains or the Ozarks. It dawned on me that most people come to New York and never even see the ocean. The bay they’ll see, heading on the Ferry to get a glimpse of Lady Liberty or the bridges up the east River. But the harbor does little to show the vast expanse of land on the other side of Brooklyn and Staten Island.
For myself, I’ve always needed to be by the sea. It’s calming, especially when the craze and haze of the city tries to press down on you, tries to hold you down amidst its busy hours and seasons. I think that’s why Brooklyn appeals to me so much, why I chose to move to this part of the country. There is an energy that burns like a super conductor, and yet for a $2 subway fare, you can peer out into the void and see the same sky as the native Americans did when they came to where the land would go no further.
In the evening, when the sun has set over the Port of Bayonne and the twilight pines its last glimmer, the distant horizon becomes blacker than black. Not even the constant allumination of the city pierces the void of a starless night over the Atlantic. It is the lights of the Verizano-Narrows bridge that fill their absence as it climbs from these banks to Staten Island.
Originally, this western ridge of New Amsterdam was called Yellow Hook, named after the yellowish earth that lay beneath its wooded banks. Though after the spread of Yellow Fever in 1849, the Dutch ancestry that had cultivated cabbage and potatoes along this ridge for 150 years abandoned their homes, taking with them the name that had brought bad favor to such a fatal disease.
The small enclave of farmers in what was the Village of New Utrecht, gave way to a new expanse of immigrants settleing in old Brooklyn and New York. Before long, what was now known as Bay Ridge, was swallowed up by the larger New York, just as the Atlantic sky swallows up the sea at the end of the day.
It was Giovanni Verrezanno who first explored this shore while sailing under a French flag in 1524. I often wonder that if his Italian counter part, Christopher Columbus, had been born in these lands, might he have peered off into the horizon and wondered if the world did end beyond these shores? Indeed, it’s easy to think that as you step from the R-line of the New York City subway, after the conductor announces that you’ve arrived at 96th Street, the end of the line.
“!All passengers must now leave. This train is going out of service!”
The other night I ventured to bay Ridge with LK for the first time. I had been there before for matters of a quick visit. But I had not explored the reaches on this southern end of Brooklyn, much like verrezano might have explored it in his day. For those visiting New York, with time to spare and a desire not to be caught up in the stampede of tourists, I would recommend taking the R-train to its final resting place in Brooklyn.
On a hot summer day, the breeze is cool from the Atlantic, and the air is heavy with the sweet flavor of salt and the sea. The path along Shore ave. offers an impressive view of the verrezano Straight, and in the winter a clear view into Hudson bay. I had discovered that there is a museum at Ft. Hamilton, which is under the verrezano-Narrows Bridge on the protection of the harbor. And the turn of last century homes offer a different feel from the more stoic brownstones of Brooklyn and the city.
In all this, there is a greater sense of adventure, of exploration, as one peers through the arches of the mighty suspension cables and looks into the darkness that called so many explorers to sea. It’s easy to live in New York and forget about the ocean. I had gone to Coney Island one afternoon, to pass the time walking along the boardwalk, when a visitor came up to me and asked what the body of water was at the beaches end.
“The Atlantic,” I said.
“You mean we’re on the Atlantic Ocean?”
“Yeh, we sure are,” I replied.
His voice was rural Americana, perhaps from the plains or the Ozarks. It dawned on me that most people come to New York and never even see the ocean. The bay they’ll see, heading on the Ferry to get a glimpse of Lady Liberty or the bridges up the east River. But the harbor does little to show the vast expanse of land on the other side of Brooklyn and Staten Island.
For myself, I’ve always needed to be by the sea. It’s calming, especially when the craze and haze of the city tries to press down on you, tries to hold you down amidst its busy hours and seasons. I think that’s why Brooklyn appeals to me so much, why I chose to move to this part of the country. There is an energy that burns like a super conductor, and yet for a $2 subway fare, you can peer out into the void and see the same sky as the native Americans did when they came to where the land would go no further.
# posted by Tony : 6:51 PM
