Harlem – 125th Street

The smoothie today was a mild one: Two cups of cut honey dew, one cup almond milk, and a small piece of banana. The book, The Secret Life of Eva Hathaway by Janice Weber, may be the only "chick lit" book I've ever read. It's fun and exciting. Originally, I found it in a cupboard in my room in Poland when I was quite sick with the flu. I think I read it in one sweep sitting in bed surrounded by cups of tea, nose drops, and boxes of Kleenex. 

Yesterday, all three of us – my son, my husband, and me – took the train to the city.

We didn’t go all the way to Grand Central and Midtown, which is what we usually do, but instead stepped off in Harlem, on 125^th Street, which is exactly 20 minutes from where we live with the train. The Harlem platform is an elevated one, and I realized right away that we’d dressed for a much warmer day. The wind was bitter up there, blowing my hair all over the place. The sky was a dull grey although it was only 10 or so in the morning. We walked down the stairs into the station, a lovely, old station, and out into the street through the double doors.

125^th Street cuts straight through Harlem, and I like to walk it from Park Avenue all the way to Morningside Avenue. I especially like this walk in summer, when the scents from the street vendors’ tables are intensified by the heat and humidity. The street has changed pretty dramatically the past years, with lots of chain stores and plenty of nice restaurants. I always buy incense sticks and African shea butter from the outdoors vendors, when the weather’s fine, if it is cold and they aren’t out, I venture into one specific store that sells all kinds of fragrance, soaps, and jewelry. I prefer the outdoor vendors though, they are friendlier and the stuff they sell is dirt-cheap and interesting to look at. I love how the incense makes our home smell. My favorite is one called Bharath Darshan and has an Indian woman on the package, but sometimes – for fun – I buy incense that is supposed to attract money or good luck and things like that.  The vendors also sell T-shirts and creams and lotions and baseball caps. Spread out on black or blue fabrics are wooden bracelets and necklaces, and there are baskets with colorful rings and beads for as little as $1.

Yesterday, however, it was too cold for the vendors to set up their tables on the sidewalks. Also, we were going to a specific place, we weren’t just strolling down the street for pleasure. A friend of mine was in the hospital, and I wanted to go visit her before they released her. Thus, the three of us forged ahead in the cold, stopping only to buy a scarf. Yet, 125^th Street never leaves me indifferent. When I’m there I always tell myself I should come more often. We hurried past Applebee’s, a very commercial chain restaurant that is our son’s absolute favorite.

“Ple-e-e-ase,” he begged as we neared it, with its bright red apple logo. “Ple-e-e-ase!”

“Not today,” said my husband and tugged at our son’s hand.

“Let’s hurry,” I said. “We’re late and it’s cold.”

Always this hurry in New York, even on a Sunday.

Still, my eyes took it all in: The hair-braiding place with the shiny, old-fashioned chairs visible from the windows as we passed by. I took in the worn red vinyl covers of the coaches where the women and children sat waiting. We passed by the Adam Clayton Powell Jr. Building, which is a boring and ugly building if you ask me, but I like the statue of Powell Jr. in the front, striding on an incline, with the wind in his face and clothes, much like us.

A little further ahead is the Theresa Hotel, no longer a hotel at all but an office building. However back in its prime days, Theresa hosted guests like Fidel Castro, Josephine Baker, and Duke Ellington and was known as the Waldorf or Harlem.  Shortly after that is the Apollo Theater, which is of course where Ella Fitzgerald’s career was launched so many years ago. I always have my eyes on the Apollo sign, I can gauge where I am by how far away it is.

When the weather’s nicer I see tourists on 125^th Street, looking perhaps a little confused. This street isn’t really a place to sightsee; it’s more a place to experience. It’s teeming with life and soul and history. It’s a special place.

When our little trio reached Morningside Avenue, we cut away from 125^th Street, which by now has turned into Dr Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard. We continued walking downtown, along the edge of Morningside Park, looking for the park entrance. Once we found it, we walked up all the little steps that lead to Morningside Drive and the beginning of Columbia University. We continued on to Amsterdam Avenue and 114^th Street. Here, my husband and son went and had a slice of pizza, and I entered the hospital to visit my friend.