Saturday Night Adventures

I'm horribly aware of how behind I am! I'm only just getting round to Saturday night. I promise that I will write about everything, but there's just so much to write about and so much to do that it's going to take me some time! And I've gone absurdly ocd about the whole thing and need to write about it all with out missing a single detail so that I don't forget anything. 

So I had better get going!

On Saturday night, after some research and indecision (obviously) we decided to visit Brooklyn Moon Cafe, because we still hadn't yet been to Brooklyn and this was clearly starting to concern us, an 18+ live music venue and restaurant, and then possibly head over to Cafe Wha? on McDougal street in Lower West Side, another 18+ live music venue. I know; two places in one night. We are going mental. It is the city that never sleeps after all.

It's weird that we can't drink here; we've had to totally readjust, but it does just prove that you don't need to drink to have a good time, and I do really like that we've had to find other, much cooler and more memorable, ways to enjoy ourselves. Watching Roman Holiday in Bryant Park will stay in my memory far longer than a slightly blurred memory of an evening in a random bar.

So, what with us being subway pros these days, we hopped on the subway (and were delighted to discover that our cards that we'd bought when we arrived - a sort of temporary Oyster card equivalent - still worked) and headed downtown towards Brooklyn. 

And then, suddenly, everything went a bit pear shaped and we were way off our planned route and destination, and had no idea how it happened. Maybe something to do with the muffled announcement which we couldn't understand and so ignored. Note to all: just because you can't understand something, doesn't mean it isn't important. We later learnt that engineering work had diverted our route. good to know that it's not just London then. 

So we got off and got back on a train going in the opposite direction back to where we'd just come from so that we could change at West 4th Street. But, when we got there were told that we'd have to do some very complex manoeuvre that involved going downtown and then back uptown in order to eventually get downtown to where we wanted to be. or something.

Anyway, it all sounded a bit complicated to us, despite our subway pro status, and so we abandoned Brooklyn Moon Cafe (meaning that we still haven't gone to Brooklyn! Severely slacking I have to say) and decided to go straight to Cafe Wha? instead, especially as, as luck would have it, we were already at the subway station that we needed to be at. Perfect! So we hurriedly left the subway before any more subway-related mishaps could occur (although... keep reading folks!) 

As soon as we came up the stairs onto ground level, we knew we'd found a pretty cool place to be. We were near Washington Park, which is where all the NYU students hang out and smoke pot, and the streets were busy and noisy, with crowds of people spilling out of crammed cafes and bars onto the pavement outside, and tiny candle lit restaurants with ad hoc table and chairs and the occasional man playing a guitar, and basement bars which doubled as tattoo parlours were emitting a thumping base. It was all so exciting. 

We quickly found the old garish lights of Cafe Wha?, and it's equally locatable queue. We called a group meeting (pretty easy when there are only two of you). We decided that standing in a queue is not how we do things. At this point I'd like to say that we used some contacts and pulled some strings and skipped the queue, but unfortunately not. Instead we chose one of the tiny candle lit restaurants with ad hoc table and chairs (no man playing a guitar) and had two very delicious salads. We chatted to the man sitting next to us for a while, who had lived in New York 20 years ago and told us how much it had all changed and improved. We also chatted to our waiter for a bit, who highly recommended Cafe Wha?, explaining that it's decor, unchanged from the '60s, and atmosphere is famous in the Lower West Village, but also highly approved of our decision to skip the queue. We also chatted to his boss for a bit who, on enquiring where we came from, informed us that he used to live in London, in Hammersmith. I was very excited by this, and couldn't get over how small this world can be sometimes. It seems so strange that he's sat on a 267 and seen the grey bricks of Hammersmith Civic Centre, just like I have, and yet here we both are, randomly, in New York. 

(As if I needed more proof of the smallness of this world, the next day I saw the man who had sat next to us in our hostel lift. We had another very nice chat about how good the food had been. And yet I can't find Oveous on the subway. Really??)

When we reached Cafe Wha? we found that there was no queue and were thus very pleased with ourselves. We went down the black painted steps to the strangely quiet underground den and pushed open the heavy door. We were greeted by a wall of noise (that is some seriously good sound proofing there) and were taken through to a long table where three very cool looking black girls sat, each with a complex quiff or array of curls and seriously sharp shoulders. They gave us a very warm hello, I immediately took their picture for them and they recommended their fave cocktails (unfortunately ID was required so we stuck to diet coke). 

We were sitting so close to the stage that the guy playing the keyboard winked at us. It was such a randomly cool collection of songs and music styles. The front man, a Sting wannabe, covered The Killers, Kanye West and The Beatles, at which I point my British pride swelled. A large gospel singer did a beautiful and upbeat version of Rolling In The Deep and my patriotism reached fever pitch. Then an absurdly tall Spaniard did three Latin American songs and a middle aged couple started to salsa and an absurdly hot girl got on stage and started doing the macarana. After that Sting swaggered back up to the mike and drawled 'Hi, I'm Johnny Cash' and launched into a fantastic rendition of Ring of Fire, much to my Johnny Cash obsessed delight. We left at midnight, when they ended their second set, because paying two cover charges (at $15 each) seemed excessive, and anyway, we didn't want to be toooo tired for our trip to the zoo (yes!! You heard it here first) the next day.

We walked the short distance back to the subway and worked out which line we could get (Blue A or C to good ol' 59th Street Columbus Circle, just in case you were wondering) and were annoyed to see that the only train we couldn't get (Blue E. Like I said; pros) was sitting at the platform. And it sat there. And it sat there. Aaaaand it sat there, meaning that the trains we could get, weren't coming. An announcement was made about a passenger needing medical assistance and shortly after two medics appeared, much to everyone's morbid fascination. What did I say about avoiding any more subway related mishaps?? Eventually a Blue A going uptown came to the other platform, and from there its only a couple of stops, so were home without any subsequent drama or delays. 

We had such an amazing evening; we feel like we're now a small part of New York music history, especially as, as we are constantly reminded, some of The Greats started in the small, locally renowned music venues that are nestled away in the depths of the city. It's definitely worth doing some research, talking to some locals, having an explore and taking a risk because the small places that are somewhat off the beaten track are like gold hidden amongst costume jewellery.