Perfect Cure for a Heat Wave

It was hot. Hot, hot, hot in the city last Wednesday. I'm sure I've said it before, but August is not the best time to take in the sights and sounds of NYC. Having said that, it is survivable if you work with what you have weather-wise, instead of fighting it.

Which means we basically hide out in AC during the overwhelming heat of the day, and come out like bats at night. In summer, the nightlife takes to the streets. And this particular Wednesday, so did we!

Dan and I thought a bit about it and realized we hadn't been to the East Village in many years. Sad, too, because it is in some ways more genuine in spirit than the gentrified West Village, which we frequent quite regularly. Maybe that's partly because we have "gentrified" with the neighborhood.......

Well it was time to fix all that! Throw off our professional, responsible, early-to-bed, paying our taxes current selves for the evening, and see for ourselves what the "kids" are up to these days.........

We left the 6 train at Astor Place. I hadn't stopped here in years, not since my student days. Immediately we entered a different realm: the streets were swarming with artsy, young, pleasure-seekers as well as quite a few laid-back, not so young, alternative types. We headed right down St Mark's Place (aka 8th Street), past the piercing/tattoo parlors and t-shirt stands, and were jolted by two familiar yet unexpected sights. Right across the street was a branch of our favorite coffee store, Porto Rico (we usually frequent their West Village store). Pulled in like magnets, we inhaled our "fix" of coffee aroma, and left with two pounds of freshly ground and exotic coffees. Then just another block along, we hit the East Village branch of Dallas BBQs. This is a stick-to-the-ribs kind of place, where you go for the food and drinks, not the ambiance. No top 50 restaurant here, but darn those margaritas hit the spot! And our sidewalk seating gave us the perfect spot to watch the East Village world go by.

After taking in the sidewalk scene a bit, and starting to feel VERY relaxed, we started our rambles around the neighborhood. Just a couple blocks north we discovered St. Mark's Church in the Bowery, an Episcopal church that is sited on Peter Stuyvesant's old bowery, or farm. After an illustrious and somewhat notorious career, he retired and was buried here. Apparently his great-grandson was responsible for the current church building, which dates from 1799. Several famous people are buried on the grounds here, including Daniel Tompkins, for whom Tompkins County, New York is named (home of Cornell University, our alma mater).

As we left the historic churchyard, we headed south back to St Mark's Place. A vintage 80's store caught our eyes- it was useless to resist, so we went in. It took me a moment to register that all these old boots and ratty t-shirts that I saw on the racks before me, some of which looked awfully similar to stuff I had just recently cleaned out of my own closets, were actually gathered together here for sale to the general public.

Eeek! When did any part of MY lifetime become nostalgia for today's youth?? When did I stop, gasp, BEING today's youth?? After my initial shock, I was slightly bemused that anyone would want anything from this rather artless era in the first place, nevermind would they care to pay the mark-up we saw on the tags. Funny.

We swiftly made our departure, holding the door open for two hipsters heading in, and made our way down the block. By this point, we were getting hungry. And while in our normal lives we've been known to research our restaurant choice weeks before in Zagat's and made sure to reserve ahead, tonight we were going to see where our whims took us- just like tourists in our own town. We eyed the myriad falafel stands and Chinese take-out spots, but wanted something more atmospheric. And were pleased as Chesire cats to stumble upon Kyhber Pass, an Afghani restaurant right on St. Mark's Place.

Talk about ambiance! The place oozes romance, and intrigue. And while we didn't find ourselves lounging about on soft pillows in the front window seats, we did have a nice spot halfway between the bar and front door, perfect for taking it all in. Bathed in a warm yet eerie red glow, we watched the waitresses carry hookahs from their places lined up on the bar, to eager patrons at their tables. When our scrumptious meal was served, we savored the unusual array of flavors we found in our Afghani dishes. One rice dish, Shireen Palow, especially delighted us with its sweet and chewy taste of candied orange peels with pistachios.

Finally it was time to return to our corporate world downtown. Before we went, we ducked into a somewhat fancy Indian jewelry store on the way to the subway. I was transfixed by the beautiful semiprecious stones worked into the intricate metal pieces. And as a parting memento, Dan bought me a dangly pair of earrings to take back with me- a reminder of the more simpler, casual days of our youth- a feeling kept alive in the East Village, even now.