TBEX 10: Bloggers Take Manhattan

After our first night out in the Big Apple, Alyson and I just managed to slip into our cozy hostel bunks before the “tranquility” of dawn descended on the city of New York. The symphony of the morning began pianissimo before a quick crescendo of trumpeting cab horns and thundering garbage trucks. Burying my head beneath my pillow, I began to understand the meaning behind “the city that never sleeps“.

Stairs in our hostel.

The view from the roof of the Jazz on the Town Hostel.

We somehow managed to resurrect ourselves, grab a cup of coffee, and make it to the conference just in time to be a half hour late. The fact that we arrived late puzzled us a bit, but we were too tired to dwell on it. Only later did we discover that our mobile phone had not automatically updated to the new time zone. We spent the rest of the weekend arriving fashionably late to all of the TBEX functions.

After our morning boost of caffeine had begun to take effect, we made our way into the crowded auditorium. It was a packed house. Travel bloggers from URL’s all across the globe were in attendance. Surely, some world record for largest group of people simultaneously twittering had been broken. We had all taken our pilgrimage here to study, discuss and learn the revered ways of Travel Blogging. Very important issues were discussed such as, “What makes good stories?“, “How do you do Podcasts and Videos“, and “How the Hell Do You Make Money at Blogging?” Time will soon show whether Alyson and I were listening closely enough.

In the thick of it at TBEX TEN.

Yours Truly.

Aside from the panel discussions, the remaining two days of TBEX were filled with glorious gifts, platters of free food, and cups that overflowed. Alyson and I were seriously impressed (and impressing Alyson is no easy task). I have to say that both NYC and TBEX far exceeded my expectations. Understandably, the glittering lights and tall buildings of the Big Apple would ‘WOW’ anyone just off the plane from a sleepy, small Alabama town, but I still found it amazing that a group of backpackers and travelers could pull off such a well done convention.

Those glittering lights and tall buildings you just read about.

Obviously, a church.

Alyson twittering as usual.

At the close of the conference each afternoon we would all join a mass exodus and head to the pub hosting the “After Party”. These social engagements lasted well into the late evenings. Apparently, travel bloggers not only love 1) Travel and 2) Blogging, but also 3) Talking and 4) Drinking. The after party events have all become a blur to me. Not because of drinking to the point of memory loss…no, but because of the shear number of people we met during these soirées. The names, faces, web addresses and twitter handles have all become a jumbled collection of information hastily stored within my short-term memory. Perhaps self hypnosis memory recall could help sort out the details, but for now I will go ahead and apologize in case we meet again and I seem to have forgotten you. I blame the beer.

Naturally, after the “After Party” came the pub crawling. Though we managed to stumble our way in and back out of several fine establishments, by far my favorite was McSorley’s Old Ale House. McSorley’s is a 156 year old pub that is still open and going strong. They only serve a choice of either light or dark ale, but the selection wasn’t the attraction. The charm is all in the history. The walls are adorned with old photographs and newspaper clippings. Behind the bar looms an old wooden ice box and in the center of the pub stands a pot belly stove. You can smell the dust. The waiters walk up with fistfuls of beer mugs and slam them before you on the thick wooden tables. Some of the more famous patrons to McSorley’s have been Abraham Lincoln, John Lennon, and Woody Guthrie. Even American poet E.E. Cummings published a poem titled, “Sitting in McSorley’s”. After having danced where George Washington once danced in Charleston, we were happy to drink where Lincoln once had merriment in New York.

McSorley’s Old Ale House

Inspiration for travel writing.

The watering hole. Paul, Candice and Alyson wet their lips.

Paul Thompson enjoying some McSorley’s Dark Ale.

This bar is like a time capsule.

Sawdust strewn floors.

When not at the conference or pub crawling with other bloggers, Alyson and I spent our time wandering aimlessly through Greenwich Village. The summer sun was really beating down one Sunday afternoon so we stopped to cool off in the shade of the trees in Washington Square. The squares of NYC really reminded me of the plazas in Colombia. People flock to these oases hidden throughout the concrete corridors of the city. The squares are gathering spots, resting spots, and places to just sit and think. There were children and students cooling off in a large fountain and splashing around in its refreshing waters. Alyson and I watched in silent envy wishing we could join them. We wiped the beads of sweat from our brow and continued on our walk to find something to eat.

A shady stroll through Washington Square.

The arch at Washington Square. Notice the food vendors.

The fountain at Washington Square.

A shop in Greenwich Village that sells only Chess Games.

Shopping for records in Greenwich Village.

The concrete corridors of NYC.

Man, I could live on NYC street food… (but Alyson would never allow it). There is such a fulfilling yet simple pleasure from standing on a sidewalk and being offered grilled meats on a stick. And the best part is the food carts are everywhere. No matter where in Manhattan we went the wind always carried the savory smells of chicken and pork sizzling over a charcoal flame down the long avenues and right to my nose. Hot Dogs in Central Park, Kabobs at Union Square, Gyros at the Battery. Pizza on our stoop. It was like being at a county fair every day.

Pizza on the Stoop.

Hot Dogs in Central Park.

Sunflowers at Union Square.

Union Square, near our hostel, was a great place to score cheap, delicious grub. It was conveniently located with plenty of food carts and lots of shady resting places. While taking a rest from meandering around one afternoon we stopped at Union Square for some casual people watching and spicy chicken kabobs. I’ve never seen a city so historically old and yet internally young. Hordes of young professionals and hipsters covered the city sidewalks, filled the shops and cafes, and lounged on the emerald green grass of the square. They strummed guitars for change, surrounded outdoor chess boards awaiting their turn to play, and desperately promoted themselves from behind card tables of CDs. We watched a group of enthusiastic activists try to convince passers-by to take off their clothes. They held picket signs that read, “Its Okay to Be Naked” and sashayed around the square with barely anything on. Surprisingly, several pedestrians they had stopped would comply with their demands and disrobe while the young nudists shouted and cheered. Dinner and a show for four bucks fifty…perhaps only in New York.