Hakuna Matata

As you know, we went to see the Lion King on our third night in New York. 

We’d already braved the gauntlet that is Broadway.  It is quite an experience: exhilirating or horrific, depending on your piece of mind.   On this occasion, I’m happy to report that it was definitely the former.  Below is the view we enjoyed from within the theatre (the Minskoff).

The show itself was fantastic!  I’m not too hot on musicals to be honest but even I can’t resist some classic Disney – and this was classic.  Much of the show follows the film verbatim so if you enjoyed one, the other won’t disappoint.  The performances were uniformly excellent but for me it was the stage that really stole the show – the set was remarkable.  No photos allowed, sadly.

Broadway was even more spectacular after dark.  Not everyone’s cup of tea, granted, but it’s difficulted not be taken in by it all.

Earlier in the day, we’d explored the downtown area.  We visited the World Trade Center site, now a building site.  The construction of the Freedom Towers is still at an early stage so there was not an awful lot to see.

Across from the site is St Paul’s Chapel.  Remarkably, given its close proximity, this small church survived September 11th unscathed – trees in its yard protected it from the worst of the debris.  Subsequently, the church became a hub for the rescue effort that followed and is now a permanent exhibition recalling this aspect of the time. 

From here, we headed to the Hudson River and walked along the shoreline in the direction of Battery Park, which sits at the Southern most point of Lower Manhattan.  It was on this pleasant stroll that we caught our first glimpse of the Statue of Liberty.  I’d always thought it was closer to the mainland than what it actually is – this shot was taken with full zoom. 

Once we’d reached Battery Park, we found some shade and tucked into giant pretzels.  Very American.  And salty!!

After the excitement of the Lion King, we had a rare lie in the following day.  You might expect, and not unreasonably, that in New York of all places, we’d be out and about 12+ hours a day.  There is, after all, so much to see and do.  But to be honest, it’s here that we’ve been at our laziest.  I think in part, we have been unconsciously winding down – either that or we’re just fed up of walking x hours a day and have thus timed the duration of our trip to near perfection.  I would probably say the former, Anna the latter.

Anyway, once we did get out we went for some excellent noodle soup in Chinatown.  Stuffed (it hasn’t ceased to amaze how filling soup can be!), we carried ourselves to the Brooklyn Bridge.  Famous for being the first of its kind, there is a steady stream of tourists heading in both directions.  We joined the throngs and snapped away. 

In a cool twist (in my limed bridge experience, I should add), the pedestrian section of the bridge runs direct down the middle, above the traffic.

Once on the otherside, we meandered our way to Brooklyn Heights and the waterfront, for views of Lower Manhattan. 

On Tuesday (our penultimate full day – we have been going into countdown overdrive of late: last this, penultimate that) we were up at the crack of dawn with the intention of joining the queues to get across to Liberty and Ellis Islands.  Unfortunately, my travel buddy was feeling poorly – another bout of tonsilitis we feared – and so it was straight back to bed.  When we did finally get up and out, we skipped (not literally, I assure you!) through Cental Park to take some photos of the Guggenheim museum.  An architectural favourite of my father, it is indeed a stunning building. 

We didn’t pay the inflated fees to see the exhibits (we are not the most cultured of souls, where art is concerned) but we were able to nip inside and marvel at the building’s equally impressive interior.

Job done, we had a quick lunch at Grand Central (truly grand, as stations go) before doing a spot of shopping.  With limited success on this occasion, though Anna did emerge from Niketown with a couple of purchases.  And then we both had a bit of a fright.  Anna, as I’ve mentioned, had not been feeling too hot the past day or two and so we’d decided to return to the hotel for a siesta.  Well, we made it as far as the Subway platform – which, it should here be noted, makes the Tube feel chilly (certainly the platforms; the trains, mercifully, are air conditioned) – when Anna fainted.  I am talking proper fainting here.  At first I thought she was itching her back against the wall and then next thing I know she was on the floor.  Luckily, I’d been right by her side so I’d managed to cushion her fall but from there my composure began to crack. A friendly bystander (and there was just the one, I’m sad to say) was phoning for help but Anna came to.  Kind of.  The train was just pulling in as we got her to her feet but she was still swooning as I sat her down on a seat.  And this was probably the worst part of the episode (from my point of view, I think for Anna the nadir was lying on a subway platform … ), Anna was just starring at me all glassy eyed, looking really out of it, her skin having taken on a very unhealthy looking tinge.  And then, just like that, back she was, in the land of the living and BIG sighs of relief all around!!!  We were laughing about it within the hour but it was a scary few minutes.

We had Mets tickets for that evening and after a ‘power’ nap, Anna was adamant that we still go.  The Mets, forever in the shadow of the Yankees and far less successful, play in Queens, at the Shea Stadium.  It is a huge arena and our seats, though not bad, were stratospheric. 

On the evidence of those around us, a ball game is as much an eating occasion as it is a sporting one.  Anna and I definitely tried to get into the spirit of things but making just a paltry two trips to the food stands, failed miserably. 

We didn’t sit it out until the very end so I can’t even tell you who won, except to say that the Mets were 5-2 up as they closed out the penultimate (my word of the week) innings.  Oh, they were playing the San Diego Padres, if anybody cares.

Our final full day was fairly low key.  Mostly, it was a day of (more) shopping, both of us spending money I’m pretty sure we don’t have.  

At sunset, we made our way to the Empire State Building and its 86th floor observatory.  As Anna commented in the last blog, we were slightly underwhelmed by the building itself but the views were stunning. 

Not a bad way to bring our tourist activities to a close.  All that was left to do was to have a last meal.  I let the invalid choose.  If you know Anna well, her choice will come as little surprise: duck. 

A bloody good choice as it turned out – it was amazing.  Anna’s appetite not what it normally is, I was left to clean up (darn!).  On account of Anna’s tonsils, I was also left to pour a lonely beer.

So, this is it. 

In a couple of hours we will make our way to JFK airport and while away the last precious hours of what has been an incredible trip.  The title of this blog, although obviously linked to and inspired by the Lion King, resonated with me more because of its relevance to our experience – Hakuna Matata perfectly captures the past 6 months.  For sure, it has not been a completely worry-free time but more often than not, the worries have been minute: where (and indeed what) to eat, how to get to the hotel, getting ripped off by  sweet old ladies, trying to recall if toothbrushes had been packed etc., etc.  Far more pertinent – and I think I speak for both of us – has been an overriding sense of well being, of everyday being a new adventure and, up until quite recently, of new places and new experiences, being mapped out ahead of us on an ever-expanding horizon.  It has been like living in a bubble, a cosy cocoon that has protected us from the ‘real world.’  As we board our flight this evening, that bubble is about to burst.  Just as Simba had to return to Pride Rock, so too do we have to face the on-rushing realities of work, finding a place to live, finding the money to find a place to live and other such serious matters.  Which isn’t all bad.  I’m certainly not complaining.  We are both excited (mostly …) about the coming weeks and months.  Instead, I’m just grateful that we’ve been fortunate enough to have had this time, to have seen what we’ve seen, experienced what we’ve experienced and, most important, to have enjoyed every minute of it.