Over the weekend, Lewis and I relocated to another part of Astoria. We now reside at Shore Boulevard & Astoria Park South (a prestigious version of Central Park South). It is a curved 23-story condominium that overlooks the tidal strait in NYC's East River. It is the tallest building in Astoria.
It's the first time that we "lived on the water". (That expression doesn't mean on a boat; it means living against the water). Belonging to the building, there is a quay that is open to the public until sundown. It's serene to sit on the benches and listen to the waves slosh against the embankment.
Here is a view of the building from across the river.
Astoria is an upscale part of New York City. This is NYC's flag.
To honor its Dutch roots in 1634, the city's flag features a windmill, and its colors derive from the Dutch flag of the Prince of Orange (seen below).
On "Moving Day", Lewis' uncle drove him to our new place, with a car full of breakables that we didn't trust the movers to carry. When the moving van left my former apartment, I walked to our new condominium... and I arrived before the movers (who got delayed in typical traffic).
With my spatial abilities, I assured Lewis that our furniture would fit perfectly in each room. He was thrilled that it did.
Watching the movers align our furniture was a celebratory finale to the prior renovations! Ironically, it was the exact date of my "moving day" from Flushing to Astoria, nine years ago. Up to that point, our transition was nerve-wracking.
Previously, Lewis rented a U-Haul truck to transport some furnishings from his mother's apartment on Manhattan's Upper West Side. Despite being a huge company, U-Haul was a nightmare to deal with. The uncaring proprietors made an error with our reservation and rudely told us to come back the next day. We did, and Lewis' uncle joined us. Treating him and Lewis with anti-Asian racial discrimination, they almost didn't let them enter the office! Then, the "white trash" secretary made us wait for an hour. After we returned the truck, they tried to cheat us with a scam about the mileage and fuel consumption (which is characteristic of NYC). Wisely, we had proof to refute their lies. It necessitated a call to the corporate headquarters to get our deposit refunded to us. Their attitude was "You need us more than we need you". We'll never use them again.
The next fiasco was worse. Currently, America suffers from a nationwide shortage of kitchen appliances (since American manufacturers depend on motors that they prefer to have made cheaply in China). In August, there was a backlog of requests until November! Initially, we paid Home Depot for a refrigerato, but the day before our delivery, they called to tell us that it was actually out of stock! How does a "big" nationwide company fail to notify its clients until the day before an installation?! Then, we paid an appliance store in Brooklyn, who did the same thing! Despite us obtaining confirmations of stock-levels, both P.C. Richard and Lowes were equally useless and clueless. The wait times to finally communicate with a Customer Service representative were pathetically long (because billion-dollar companies were too cheap to hire more employees during a surge of clients).
The uncaring Customer Service Representative at Lowes had the effrontery to tell me, "You should buy a smaller fridge, to use in the meantime." Why should I pay them twice because they lied about having the fridge that we bought??!! It was a stressful hassle and waste of our time... but we always fought to get our money back.
Making matters worse, several "white trash" salespeople at two Home Depot stores treated Lewis and his mother rudely and barely wanted to assist them because they were Asian (during the USA's racist "Asian hatred": blaming Asians for COVID).
Fortunately, we went to Best Buy and bought a "guaranteed in-stock" fridge made by Samsung. It has a gun-metal finish, which Lewis adores. Before we assumed residence in our new apartment, Lewis' gay uncle selected the mirror-edged glass tiles for our kitchen walls and backsplash. Lewis' mom went to a cabinetmaker and chose blue-hued solid-wood ones with stainless steel handles. Lewis opted for slabs of speckled beige marble for our kitchen and bathroom counters.
Due to all the uncaring delays by other companies, our new fridge was the last thing to be installed... and it occurred on the day that we moved out of my old apartment and into the condo! We kept our food in coolers, until the delivery men arrived at 7pm. Alas, they were stupidly not equipped or trained to install it, so they summoned a specialist. That guy arrived two hours later and finished the "expert installation service" by 9:30pm.
We like our new carpet (I chose the color). Now we can wear our Japanese rubber-tipped geta (wooden sandals). We didn't wear them in my former apartment because they clacked loudly on its wood floor.
The scenery from our balcony is leafy and pretty.
Occasionally, our neighbors wave Hello from their balconies. A polite German family resides on our right. Unafraid of the height, their cute cat creeps over the railing to greet us (or stalk birds). Lewis loves that. Enjoy the videos below.
An Indian doctor resides on our left, but he is rarely at home.
A retired black woman lives across the hall. Each morning, she goes for a jog around the track in the park, or uses the gym downstairs. She often mingles with two Caucasian blondes at our elevator lobby. A sweet woman from China is opposite us. Sometimes, when we pass her front door, we hear her fondness for mambo music.
Occupying the penthouse, a family from Taiwan is very sociable... and was delighted to discover that Lewis speaks Taiwanese, Mandarin, and Cantonese (their kids take pricey tutor lessons but fail). The husband and I often ride the shuttle to the subway and converse until I get off at Central Park/Fifth Ave. (He rides further south to a financial job at a Dutch firm). Sometimes, we see him and his daughter playing tennis at Astoria Park.
We are thankful to have clean, courteous people around us. Seen below, our meditation accoutrement keeps our minds serenely grateful, each day.
Recently, Lewis' clothes "arrived in style", as he transferred his wardrobe to our new closets.
On its own cul-de-sac, our building has 15 full-time staff: 6 doormen, 4 porters, 2 officer workers, superintendent (on the premises), 2 shuttle bus drivers, and two nighttime security guards. (One of the guards also works for the royal family of Qatar at their twin-townhouses in Manhattan). Its amenities include a gym, tennis court, indoor swimming pool (two shifts of lifeguards for day and evening), in-house dry cleaner, parking garage, adjacency to the 60-acre park, and everyone has a balcony view of the riverfront or the city skyline. It has the cleanest laundry room that I ever saw, and I love having a functional trash chute on my level. The cul-de-sac is dotted with Japanese Zelkova trees: gorgeous in autumn.
It is a luxury to have a pool, and it's an invigorating way to start the day.
I can sit on a chaise-lounge on the adjoining terrace and admire the lifeguards... or a sunset over the river. It's peaceful at night.
After 13 years of carrying my laundry--in all types of weather--to laundromats (which were typically only half-clean and partial functioning), I'm thrilled with our own 24-hour facility. It is modern, immaculate, and air-conditioned. Here's a video of my new laundry commute. Enjoy my "elevator music"...
Thanks to the in-house tailor/dry cleaner, Lewis enjoyed the convenience of having an outfit tailored during the hour that he used the building's gym!
We are grateful for the porters who disinfect the equipment (we do, too), amongst their many duties keeping the building nice: polishing floors, vacuuming hallways, cleaning elevators, driving mini plows to remove snow, tidying the pool, and hosing dirt and dog poop off the pavement.
It's nice having a live-in Super, but if he's busy at another of the 400 units, he will dispatch a porter.
Thanks to glass elevators--with riverside views (as this video shows)...
...and our friendly shuttle bus drivers, we finally have Zen moments to start our commutes to the city.
That shuttle was soon replaced with a new one: comfy, bright, and equipped with reclining seats.
After 9 years of walking every day for ten minutes from our home to the subway station through all types of weather, rain, gusty winds, unshoveled snow, heat, and humidity, Lewis and I merely take a glass elevator down to our condo's shuttle bus! Every day, we are immensely grateful. Please watch this video...
We always greet our doormen and say Thank You to the shuttle bus drivers. Occasionally, I buy them coffee. 24 hours per day, there are always 2 doormen on duty. One handles the Package Room, and one opens the door for deliverymen, food carriers, fitness instructors, masseuses, handymen, couriers, nannies, tutors, contractors, and caterers. Guests and outsiders must be announced; the Front Desk calls residents. It's a big building, and we appreciate their work.
Our spacious lobby has cushy sofas for us to use while waiting for the shuttle to take us to the subway.
We were in residence when a vote was needed for new lobby furniture; we voted for the leather/chrome Art Deco style.
Our friendliest doorman is a gay fellow named Alan, and he is from Northern Ireland. He loves chatting with Lewis and I, hearing of our escapades, and swapping recipes.
Having visited many places, he remains proud of his United Kingdom heritage.
In his mellifluous accent, he always greets us heartily. He lives with his Portuguese partner: Hector. He is often "bubbling with excitement" to hear about the places we explored in Astoria. Here are some of them...
Astoria is a neighborhood with a trendily upmarket vibe. Its zoning rescued it from the skyscraper overdevelopment that engulfs Long Island City. It is a jewel within Queens County, which is mostly a cesspool of neglected infrastructure and overcrowded slums (unchanged since the 1988 film Coming to America).
Since the area is cleaner than others, Astorians are some of the few who are proud to put the county's flag on their flagpoles.
In 1683, the county was named in honor of the Queen of England (including Wales), who also Queen of Scotland and Queen of Ireland. A crown remains in the logo.
Most of Astoria is full of redbrick apartment buildings, but bigger new developments are replacing them at increasing rates.
Unlike that majority, our home is in the Historic District that resisted New York City's street grid since the 1850s.
Its irregular small streets resemble downtown Manhattan: cattycornered angles that form triangles, bisections, and dead-ends.
Seen above, the street in the foreground is twice as wide as the other side. Seen below, a delicatessen is named after the five corners of the non-connecting streets.
Being expert flâneurs, we'll treat you to some fun flânerie and explore them! Departing from the porte-cochère of our new home...
... we walk on Shore Boulevard. Going south, it becomes 12th Street (originally named Remsen Street before the numerated street grid). Due to its historic narrowness, it is off-limits to trucks.
It was originally a cobblestone street. Most of the streets and thoroughfares in our area were like that. The handsome cobblestones are still there, but the city stupidly paved over them with cheaply-made asphalt and tarmac. We can only glimpse at their quaint handsomeness during the roadwork that reoccurs every year.
Due to civic corruption that is allowed for 100+ years, overpaid road repair workers and construction crews rip-up streets (disrupting traffic for 2-3 weeks per street) and repave them badly... so potholes form (damaging cars), and that gives them excuses to redo the work (and accrue more overtime pay).
In our proximity, unique houses dot the landscape because wealthy merchants built them in the 1830s-1850s. That was the era of Astoria Village. Lacking "landmark" status, Astoria annually loses gems of historic architecture that predate the Civil War and can never be replaced. They are always demolished so greedy developers can collect more rents from bigger buildings.
The first European to receive a land grant was Jacques Benfyn, in 1633 for 160 acres. He worked for the Dutch West India Company. In 1647, Dutch authorities in Amsterdam appointed Peter Stuyvesant as the governor of New Amsterdam (later taken by the British and renamed New York). Famous for his wooden leg, Stuyvesant's legacy remains, and he coordinated with the Native Americans to deed Astoria's land to an Englishman named William Hallet, in 1652. Unhappy with the misunderstood deal, the native tribes expelled Hallet. He returned in 1664 and repurchased the land from them. Hardly anything remains from that time in history. (Since NYC is usually bulldozing and demolishing its heritage, few remnants survive. I learned those facts from the Astoria Historical Society and the Old Astoria Neighborhood Association).
There are only a handful of indications to Hallet's legacy. One is a skimpy strip of beachfront at Hallets Cove.
Another is an obscure outcropping that suddenly got his name. Hi-rise developers are touting their newest building site as "Hallets Point". (In the 1770s, the British Army erected a Battery there for 10,000 troops to fight in opposition of the American Revolution. They won that battle against George Washington, but they eventually lost the war).
Currently filled with poorhouses and industrial operations, that area is unattractive and crime-ridden. Yet, it was chosen by developers who are psychopathically greedy to build anywhere. They inserted "luxury towers" amongst government-maintained Public Housing Projects for poor people. In this map, the X-shaped buildings (named Astoria Houses) are operated by the NYC Housing Authority. They fill half of the peninsula.
Years ago, I recall being near the cove when three yachts arrived and circled (like sharks). Each boat owner was fixated on the area. Perhaps those were the builders?
In 1840, it was the site of Stephen Halsey's mansion. He was the founder of Astoria. In 1930, his stone mansion became a NYC public school.
The stately home stood until 1950, when the megalomaniac NYC developer, Robert Moses, thought that slums should replace old mansions.
To home-buyers and renters, those X-shapes on a map indicate a "warning sign" to avoid, due to crime, grime, and neglect. Thousands of impoverished people dwell there, and police and fire departments arrive, weekly. Yes, every week.
Alas, realty developers in NYC are willing to build homes anywhere; they would use nuclear dump sites, if they could. Gullible people who overpay to live in those out-of-the-way developments (furthest from the subway) will be amidst The Projects, and their neighborhood will look like this: industrial warehouses and fenced lots used for commercial storage...
Residents are guaranteed 10 years of noise/debris/dust, as more demolition and construction occurs around them. Is that truly "luxury"? No, and yet those people will overpay for the experience.
Away from that, our area is more residential. Some historic mansions that remain were unwisely altered (stripped of their ornamentation) or covered with vinyl siding. e.g.: the Rosemont Mansion of 1852. Here are "Before & After" pix...
Due to unstopped crime and vandalism since the 1970s, other surviving homes are marred by barriers and bars on the windows... forcing occupants to be imprisoned for their own protection.
At least Astoria's zoning forbids skyscrapers... like the giants that plague Long Island City. They grow like fungi and block the sunlight.
*Please use this link to learn about Long Island City...
https://halfwindsorfullthrottle.blogspot.com/2017/04/long-island-city-grows-because-it-lives.html
Mercifully, some of the Victorian-era homes are preserved. Queens is America's most-populated county, and it suffers from NYC's never-ending overdevelopment. Typically, if you see a historic home that withstood NYC, it is often dilapidated or overshadowed by slummy surroundings.
That is why it's delightful to explore our area and see wooden homes with original gingerbread carpentry, porches, masonry, whimsical woodwork, and architectural flourishes.
Many houses feature shady porches and front stoops decorated with flowers and potted plants.
Our segment of 12th Street is preserved and gorgeous. It has a dozen homes of distinction.
Above, the redbrick house was built in 1845.
Below, the grandly columned house of the same era is now a Greek church, but it was owned by the Blackwell family. Its corner property preserved several stately old trees.
The Blackwells are famous for having the first female physician in America, and their ancestors owned Roosevelt Island (it was named Blackwell Island for two centuries). When the British defeated the Dutch in 1666, the land was acquired by Robert Blackwell. In the 1800s, NYC uncaringly filled the island with a smallpox hospital, 1,700-person lunatic asylum, workhouse, and a penitentiary overloaded with prisoners.
*To learn more about the island's history, please use this link:
The Blackwells also owned land along the East River named Ravenswood, which was full of aristocratic-looking homes...
...and Queens' only waterside promenade. Alas, it was destroyed in 1905 to allow the city to erect gas tanks and power plants.
Now, there is no access to the water. (Cities like Frankfurt and Shanghai have many skyscrapers, yet they preserved their waterfront for public enjoyment). NYC also used Ravenswood to erect Public Housing Projects, which have an unfortunate reputation and a poverty-stricken populous.
Taxpayers can thank their tax-paid authorities for building a concentration of unhealed poverty, letting it get infested with crime, and sustaining (through neglect) those blights on society.
Just like Hallet, evidence of the Blackwells is practically gone. Only an unmarked lane bears their name. Blackwell Lane is used by St. Margaret Mary Church as an entrance. It's the only street in the whole vicinity that is named for someone, as opposed to being numerated for the city's grid.
Across the street, a stretch of grass seems to indicate where the lane might've continued in olden times.
Their final resting place is at the graveyard of St. George's Episcopal Church. Samuel Blackwell was a financial founder of that church, which I will show you soon.
Two roads near the church contain the prettiest houses. Seen below, a gorgeous 17-room beauty from 1832 is owned by a gay couple who specialize in antiques and landscaping. Shaded by sycamore trees, it evokes antebellum charm.
Families reside in the wooden beauties, seen below.
Parallel to it is 14th Street (previously Woolsey Street). Here are some homes on it.
At its end, it abuts Astoria Park South, which gives residents some bucolic scenery.
That area of Astoria is hilly and wasn't flattened because homes were already on it when NYC absorbed Astoria--to feed itself more taxes--in 1898. (At that time, the other half of Queens County protestingly seceded and became Nassau County. Alas, being on an island, it was inescapable to pay money to NYC via jobs/commutes/tolls).
9th Street features some multi-colored beauties with gaily-painted trim.
Cross-streets are also bedecked with historic houses, such as the Trowbridge House, seen below.
I suspect that the top level is missing: the roofline looks "chopped off", but it was clearly a small mansion in its day.
Ornamental row-houses are across the street. Many pretty old homes persevere in our area.
Tucked away is an alley-sized road named 14th Place. The cul-de-sac was first used as a mews for the stables and coach houses that served all of the homes in the vicinity. Judging by the narrowness of the road, it was clearly intended for horse-drawn vehicles. Now, quaint townhouses (and one modern renovation) line both sides, and they enjoy the view of a famous bridge tower.
In many places, property-owners preserved turn-of-the-century ironwork. Wrought iron gates and cast-iron fences beautify the sidewalks.
In this instance, wrought ironwork adds medieval flair to doors.
Regarding sidewalks, the old part of Astoria still has remnants of turn-of-the-century ones, before concrete was installed by NYC. They are made of bluestone. A few areas have Belgian stone, a.k.a. cobblestones.
Under the pavement, fragments of tunnels remain from the 1850s. Used to convey supplies and commuters from the 1842 ferry slip (where our condo building now sits), the tunnels accessed the cellars of homes. Some were interconnected, and a former coworker who was born in Astoria recalled using them for adventurous fun as a child. During the Civil War, they were an opportune addition to the "underground railroad" to help slaves escape the South into New England. Modern buildings truncated the tunnels, and fearful homeowners blocked others.
Seen from our balcony, the verdigris spires of First Reformed Church of Astoria are handsome to admire. The congregation was established in 1839 as Reformed Dutch, the largest form of Protestantism in the Netherlands. Consecrated in 1888, the 132-year-old church is now used by Iglesia de Dios Oasis de Salvation. To avoid unstopped crime, the lower windows were bricked-up. We haven't heard the church bells chime, and the silent belfry seems to only be a roost for pigeons.
At the corner is Astoria Provisions, a bistro that took over the site of Astor Bake Shop. That is the beginning of Astoria Boulevard.
The bistro is across the street from a public library built by a robber-baron named Andrew Carnegie (one of four that remain in the county). It was constructed in 1904 in Flemish style... but altered later by NYC.
Feng shui experts might look askance at the unusual--and perhaps confusing--intersection of five streets... but it offers interesting people-watching.
The bistro's outdoor seating gives a nice view of 28th Avenue (initially named Tisdale Street, which I think sounds nicer). A large latte with oat milk only costs $4.00. At other places, Astorians pay $4 for medium lattes, $1 more for a large size, and $1 extra for using oat milk! I was happy to avoid such price-gouging rip-offs. Lewis ordered a grilled chicken/avocado sandwich with French Fries, and I savored their Cubano sandwich with an impressively large salad. We sat outside and watched people stroll on the boulevard.
Wellington Court is a nearby street, but the name is used to encompass that area's permissible Street Art. Some businesses sponsor the annual artwork to enhance the district. See it here:
Shooting up from the next street, the bell tower of St. George (circa 1827 and rebuilt in 1903) overlooks 14th Street and 27th Avenue (first named Franklin Street). It looks as if it sprouted from a European countryside.
Its tower has gargoyles. Its graveyard has a few tombstones from the 1700s and many from the mid-1800s, including one for the aforementioned Trowbridge family.
Its stained glass windows were created by Franz Mayer of Munich, who received a Royal Warrant...
...from Bavaria's King Ludwig II in 1882,
and pontifical awards from Pope Leo XIII in 1892.
Mayer did such colorfully elaborate work for 76 churches--26 in the USA: 2 in NYC. (We are fortunate to admire one of them). Surely, that was impressive for the cozy-sized congregation, who wanted to bring something special to the parish. It's still amazing. Look at the details in each window: strands of hair, colorful brocaded garb, and beams of light from lanterns.
Below is a close-up of the bottom of that window. It shows the name of the local family member who donated funds for it. I wonder if the people living in the Trowbridge Mansion visit St. George and see Mr. Trowbridge's window?
*To see when we witnessed the tallest stained glass windows in the world, please click this link:
Sadly, the bell tower rarely chimes. It's a loss to the area.
According to folklore, the apartment building on the church's property replaced a Woman's Charity Home that John Jacob Astor built in the 1840s. It was the only thing that he built in the area, and one of the few charitable things that he ever did. He was the wealthiest tycoon in America, so the municipal leaders tried to lure him. They named the area Astoria to entice more donations from the stingy tightwad. Since Astor and his greedy son were the epitomization of Ebenezer Scrooge, that plan failed. Nowadays, the church is busy with activities, and it hosts meetings of the Old Astoria Neighborhood Association.
Further on 27th Avenue is Astoria's version of the slim, wedge-shaped Flatiron Building.
Until NYC stupidly ripped them up, streetcar (tram) rails crisscrossed both of its streets. If such public transportation still existed today (as in many other modern cities), it would be a huge help.
East of there is a Catholic church: Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Initially in 1841, it congregated on Van Last Avenue (now 21st Street), on land donated by the Riker family. (Descended from a 1638 Dutchman named Abraham Rycken, the family owned Rikers Island until the city bought it in 1884 to fill it with a prison. Now, its 400 acres contains 100,000 prisoners with a tax-paid yearly budget of $860 million). Growing, the parish moved to Newtown Ave. and built its current church in 1871, with a new limestone facade in 1916.
In 1909, its Institute was erected, across the street.
In 1928, its school was constructed in Art Deco flair, next to the church.
Preservation does not exclude modernity. They coexist.
A godsend to the area was the arrival of Brooklyn Harvest supermarket, inside a new high-rise development. Of the hundreds of new hi-rise buildings added to Astoria (which bring an overload of people), that's the only one to included a grocery store. That is absurdly bad planning for an increased population. But greedy developers prefer to squeeze exorbitant rents from every square-inch of their properties... and provide nothing for the community or the lifestyles of their overcharged tenants.
Located on what used to be named Orchard Street, the market is clean, surprisingly affordable, offers free delivery, and won a "Best of Astoria" recognition. It's amusing that a place to buy apples and peaches exists on the corner of a former Orchard Street; it seems apropos. *In the 1790s, apple orchards also grew beside Hallets Cove Beach. Planted by General Ebenezer Stevens (who participated in the Boston Tea Party), they surrounded his estate, named Mount Bonaparte.
Thankfully, our community is also served by a new Ctown Fresh Market. It is one block away from the subway station. We prefer to go there. We suspect that its manager is gay because the overhead soundtrack often features musical theatre showtunes.
I like being in a community where I can easily walk to a good grocery store.
Best of all, we enjoy a healthy walk downriver on Vernon Boulevard to get to Costco.
We buy value-priced foods--many of which are organic and well-made.
The indoor scenery is appealing, too.
Our evening shopping often ends with pretty sunsets.
Since the bike lanes are under-used on Vernon Boulevard, we use them because they have less abandoned dog poop than the sidewalks.
One of the best things about our new address is its unbeatable closeness to Astoria Park! We merely have to cross an intersection, and we are in the park.
Such a circumstance is considered a luxury in this city.
We take full advantage of it for jogging, outdoor exercise, spontaneous walks (to refresh our minds), after-dinner strolls, admiring sunsets, or being a spectator at soccer games. This pretty video demonstrates it...
A luxurious notion is that wherever we are in the park (even if it suddenly rains), we're a short distance from our home, as seen here.
Another tall structure gets noticed. Erected in 1936, the Triborough Bridge...
...has Art Deco finials. The bridge can be seen from numerous places in the neighborhood.
The toll-bridge costs a whopping $9.50 to cross. Considering that 95,000 vehicles cross it daily, there should be plenty of money to upkeep the area... yet that revenue seems to disappear.
North of it, the Hell Gate Bridge (painted red for hell) was constructed in 1910 for railroad usage. It was named for the tidal straight of choppy water that it spans, which derived from the Dutch word Hellegat. In 1614, the Dutch explorer, Adriaen Block (sailing for the Dutch East India Company), was the first European to see its geography. He coined that name, and it remained. Nowadays, freight trains and outdated-slow Amtrak trains cross the bowstring-style truss bridge. It was built by the Pennsylvania Railroad when trying to circumvent territory of the greedy New York Central Railway.
Its long aqueduct-bridge is noisily unfortunate for residents living underneath. The trestles were put directly alongside residential homes. I can't understand why a city would uncaringly do that it its community?
I don't recommend building/owning a home near it, but people are duped into "the privilege of living near Manhattan".
In the image below, please observe NYC's uncaring stupidity and lack of infrastructure. Amrak trains cross directly over the subway station, yet the city fails to install a facility to connect them. Instead, passengers must use the subway for 8.5 miles to the train station, so they can be carried back where they began, as they go to their final destination.
In typical uncaring NYC style, the rust-stained bridge only got its second coating of paint in 1995. (The richest city in America only painted its railroad bridge twice in 85 years). Equally typical of overpriced and corrupt NYC, the cheaply inferior paint faded before the job was completed. So, there is a blotchy appearance that taxpayers see daily.
It's also used in the logo for Arcadia Bar & Kitchen.
Despite having hundreds of bridges, NYC only has three places where people can see a double view of bridges: Astoria, DUMBO in Brooklyn, and the Fulton Fish Market.
Both bridges straddle the park.
The park encompasses 60 acres of pastoral lawn, bicycle paths, jogging trails, running track, outdoor exercise equipment, tennis courts, basketball courts, volleyball courts, skateboard court, and chess tables. It is a haven for 63 types of trees: Oak, Littleleaf Linden, Eastern Redbud, Sweetgum, Chinese Elm, London Planetrees, Japanese Pagoda Trees, Apple (maybe planted by General Ebenezer Stevens), Atlas Cedar, White Cedar, Mulberry, and European Smoketree.
Despite the vastness and population-density of NYC, Astoria is one of the few neighborhoods to have a public swimming pool. (Despite being the nation's richest city, NYC doesn't care to build those benefits for its overworked citizens... unlike big cities in other nations). It opened for the 1936 Olympics, and it was a training area for American athletes.
Alas, its diving area was neglected by the city for decades and was eventually paved over, this year.
The public pool creates a parade of guys who strut from their apartments. A benefit for the whole neighborhood!
The pool's upper deck is used for yoga classes, sunbathing, illicit smoking, and it's a perfect viewpoint for summertime fireworks.
The other side of the pool has a water-spray & sprinkler fountain area that we enjoy! The jets of water change randomly: some swirl around your feet and others douse you.
Here is the rest...
If you sit anywhere near the running track, it's like a carousel of people-watching. It's often a nice view.
A running track encircles a multi-purpose "playing field". At all times, park-goers use it: aerobics, yoga, martial arts, soccer practice, football drills, calisthenics, and weight-training.
Downhill is Shore Boulevard, which traces the shoreline. Near the park, it is pedestrian-only. Lewis and I walk along its quay.
Alas, when people stare at the view...
...they see Randal's Island, which the city filled with towering Psychiatric Insane Asylums, the NYC Department of Homeless Services, and a sewage treatment plant.
After sundown, the scenery within Astoria Park is nice.
To preserve heritage, the Parks Department installed benches in the iconic 1939 style, when the World's Fair exhibition was hosted in Queens. (Ironically but tellingly, its theme was "Building the World of Tomorrow", yet NYC still lags behind most first-world "big cities" in terms of infrastructure). Styled by a guy with my first name, Kenneth Lynch created them in 1936, and they are known around the world. Their round iron armrests and half-circle legs are Art Deco. Starting his company in 1927, Ken--who apprenticed in Europe--also mended the copper Statue of Liberty and created contours for the eagles on the 1928 Chrysler Building. The company still makes NYC's benches.
Based on the honor code, the little, free Take/Give Library cabinets of donated books are a great.
*To learn more about that, please use this link:
Seen below, I regularly sit in the park to read and relax.
During our Nature Hikes, we carry bags of hazelnuts to feed friendly squirrels, and birdseed for sparrows (never pigeons). The park is home to a rare species of black squirrels. During the colonial era, they were gifted to New York from Canada.
One evening, I also saw a raccoon!
As my photos prove, there are lovely waterside vistas.
We see sailboats, tugboats, barges, jet skis, yachts, and ferries.
We see boats from the elevator lobby on our floor, too.
Speaking of water, a prehistoric stream, named Linden Brook, still runs under Astoria Park South (firstly named Linden Street). You'll see a squiggly line on the map; that's it.
The Astoria Park Alliance coordinates concerned citizens for volunteerism to maintain the park. (There is a difference between conscientious citizens helping their municipality to keep the area clean... and taxpayers doing it themselves, instead waiting for their inefficient municipality to finally provide those tax-paid services). Fortunately, good citizenship triumphs over NYC's effete government. Lewis and I volunteered for park beautification to remove trash and litter.
Boy Scout troops in the vicinity also volunteer at the park.
*To see my amazing experiences as a Boy Scout, please use this link:
That effort allows Astorians to enjoy the park for open-air concerts (heard/seen in this video)...
Farther upriver, a large lawn is used for outdoor movies.
If you go to the river and pause at the railing, you may notice a sign commemorating a nautical disaster. I'll explain.
In the 1840s, Prussian and German immigrants inhabited a large tract of land on Manhattan’s Lower East Side, nicknamed Little Germany. Their prominent church was Saint Mark’s Lutheran Church, and their civic leaders were members. Alas, rich racist New Yorkers detested them, and realty developers were envious of that land for “luxury high-rise” buildings. Every summer, the church had a picnic on Long Island. Historians hypothesize that evil schemers used that annual river journey to eliminate the German community’s leadership. Steamships in NYC were notoriously corrupt and operated by a cartel monopoly that used outdated boats but charged outrageous prices. It is plausible that a steamship company colluded against the immigrants and chose its worst ship to be destroyed.
In 1894, a paddlewheel steamship named General Slocum endured three calamitous accidents. In 1898, it had its second collision with another boat. In 1902, it ran aground for the third time. It and its crew were not reliable. Yet, in 1904, it was suggested to the leaders of Saint Mark’s for their picnic, and 1,300 immigrants got aboard. Soon after the voyage began on the East River, a suspicious fire erupted in the forward cargo area. It was fueled by oily rags and spilled quantities of lamp-oil that were “coincidentally” there. Near that same area, the ship inexplicably had a locker full of flammable paint and a room full of gasoline. Witnesses testified that the fire was reported to the captain, but he disregarded it for ten minutes. When the flames engulfed the front of the ship, he irrationally avoided going to Astoria’s shore. Instead, he stayed on the water—and he maniacally accelerated to full speed… which fanned the flames into a larger blaze! During the inquest, he claimed that he didn’t steer the vessel aground in Astoria to protect people/buildings there. (No buildings existed there). Instead, he steered it to North Brother Island, which was in the middle of a wide bay, near the Bronx. Nobody believed him, except the notoriously corrupt NYC judicial system.
The inadequacy of the ship’s safety equipment was inexcusable. Its rich owners had made no attempt to maintain anything. (That still is typical of NYC today). The fire hose was made of “cheap linen” and had rotted with holes. Survivors attested that the lifeboats were either wired shut or painted shut, so they were inaccessible. Life preservers fell apart in people’s hands because the useless things were 13-years-old from 1891. Life-vests were filled with pieces of metal—to falsify their weight during inspections—and caused people to drown. It was outrageous that NYC Safety Inspectors approved those conditions one month before the voyage! 1,021 passengers died, but not the captain or his crew. Deaths included members of Little Germany’s most-established families: the social foundation of the community. Survivors revealed that the crew never tried to use the ship’s hand-pumps or buckets to extinguish the fire. NYC’s notoriously-corrupt police had no interest to find a culprit. The ship’s greedy owners at Knickerbocker Steamship Company were never prosecuted, and the corrupt safety inspectors were excused. The captain was the only person convicted for a short time before being pardoned by President Taft. (Since 1809, “Knickerbocker” was a nickname for Manhattanites, and it was used by the elite—the same industrialists who “owned” President Taft. Their private club was the Knickerbocker Club that still exists). After the indignity of mass-deaths and seeing the responsible men being absolved, German immigrants began an exodus out of Little Germany, and the community disappeared. They migrated uptown to an area named Yorkville, centered on East 86th Street (New Yorkers nicknamed it Sauerkraut Street), and they coexisted with forlorn Irish immigrants who toiled as servants, factory workers, and aqueduct laborers.
That stretch of the boulevard is used once a year for Car Shows.
In Astoria, it is perplexing how few coffeeshops are situated near any of the parks. For years, an intrepid barista pedaled his coffee machines from Brooklyn on a bicycle-cart to Socrates Park. Astorians adored his talent. Last year, a coffeeshop finally opened near the park. Some people suspect bribery, but the new Park Director suddenly cancelled the license for the "biking barista" to be in the park. The licenses for the vendors of the weekend Greenmarket were also cancelled. Without reason, that eliminated a supply of fresh fruits, vegetables, and baked goods... and everyone was forced to buy things from that overpriced coffeeshop.
For Astoria Park, a similar absence of refreshments existed for decades. This year, Kinship Coffee (locally founded) opened a roastery/shop one block from the park, on 24th Avenue. The company's founders live in the luxury-apartment building above it. (It was originally the Eagle Electric factory in the 1920s, but in 2006 the company relocated its manufacturing to Mexico and China). The coffeeshop is pricey. A medium-sized oat milk latte cost $5.75. A large one would absurdly necessitate another $1.00. Adding ice = another $1.00. Tip = another $1.00.
Meanwhile, across town, OK Café is operated by a Frenchwoman who sells house-blended teas and fair-trade coffee.
The shop's specialty is a distilling process called Kyoto Cold Brew, invented in Kyoto, Japan. (Lewis and I were there, and it's a marvelous city). The Japanese learned about cold brew coffee from Dutch traders in the 1600s. Requiring 12 hours, the Kyoto apparatus allows one drip per second, which descends through ice, spirals, and coffee grinds. A large serving of that masterpiece only costs $4.00 (oat milk included at no extra charge).
On Hoyt Avenue (named for a local merchant of the 1850s), The Barn is a coffeeshop that sells delectable food and beverages.
It's nestled in a row of turn-of-the-century storefronts that retained their ornamentation.
A byproduct of the COVID pandemic's requirement for "social distancing" was that Astoria's eateries were finally permitted to build outdoor seating areas--like Europe has! The Barn kept theirs rustic with mismatched furniture. It has heaters in winter and fans in summer.
Nearly all other coffeeshops in Astoria merely sell cookies and sweet pastries. The Barn surpasses them with a robust menu of sandwiches (made when you order them), scrambled eggs, freshly-sizzled bacon from an aromatic griddle, handmade guacamole, hearty soups, and zesty fruit smoothies. They make their own bread pudding and "overnight oatmeal".
They also outsource from talented locals. An Argentine fellow makes daily deliveries of piquant empanadas. Pastries are baked locally by a Frenchman, including viennoiseries, such as perfectly-flaky croissants, tightly-folded palmiers, pains au chocolat, chocolate-chip cookies, and fruit tarts. A Polish baker provides fresh doughnuts (paczki buns) filled with Boston cream, Nutella, jelly, and dulce de leche. Each has a generous filling worth $3.80. They are fluffy/tasty without the heaviness of typical American donuts.
Believing in ethical responsibility, its married owners, Eric and Maria (seen below), only use fair-trade coffee beans.
Just as their coffeeshop is modestly unassuming, those exquisite beans are a "hidden gem". The award-winning beans are sourced from Forza, a premium Italian roasting company, that buys from micro-lot farmers. Their selection process is strict for soil, altitude, organic methods, and shade-growth. Their unique drum-roasting method is a family secret. The low-acidity beans are always ground/tamped perfectly for my espresso drinks, as well as Cold Brew and coffee.
The smiliest barista is also named Maria. Throughout the year, she is upbeat, chatty yet professional, and she brings my items to wherever I'm sitting.
As a college student and Field & Track athlete, she deftly uses a $6,000 Wega Polaris espresso machine to produce caffeinated magic. Made in Italy, that brand is renown for reliability and value.
My latte was fairly-priced at $4.50, and there was no additional cost to use oat milk. Cartons of farm-fresh figs (from Connecticut) were $2.50 each. Most markets charge $10 for a carton. The figs were sweetly succulent! So, I bought another carton. Eric told me that he was a chef for 15 years and prefers farm-to-table food.
On Saturdays, they employ a jazzy Japanese guitarist named Tomoya, who is from Nagoya.
Enjoy this video...
Tomoya loves our compliments about his hometown, whenever Lewis and I talk about our visit to it. We enjoy his rotating roster of musicians and vocalists who join him.
He adored my blog's descriptiveness of Japan, which you can read via this link:
Here is a video of Eric spontaneously making rhythm on a trash can to accompany Tomoya's music.
The vibe is great at that coffeeshop! They do their best to overcome noise pollution from the highway, across the street. Many trucks have loud engines and exhaust (like Soviet-quality tanks) because cheap-greedy NY owners won't invest in repairs. The deceleration of badly-maintained engines is so loud that we hear them from our condo (half a mile away)!
A short walk north of there, Lewis and I discovered a coffee roastery. This fellow worked there as a barista and escorted us.
Mighty Oak coffeeshop uses wood-roasted coffee. That's unique. Lewis selected an oat milk latte. From the sustainable Wilmar Castillo Farm in Guatemala, the espresso beans are roasted onsite with kiln-dried wood! Local arborists source trees felled by storms and natural causes within 50 miles of the shop.
$2.50 for espresso and $4 for an 8-ounce oat-milk latte is much less than crappy Starbucks. Seen below, Starbucks has always overcharged for crappy/barely filled-sandwiches...
It's nonsensical that people pay so much for such low quality. Representative of Astoria's partiality for small-batch artisanal food, there are only 5 Starbucks in Astoria... instead of the typical 12 in other areas.
Unique to most of NYC, our part of Astoria has boulevards: Vernon Blvd., Shore Blvd., Astoria Blvd., and Ditmars Blvd. Our segment of Astoria Boulevard has nice restaurants. One of our doormen, Frank (from Crown Heights, Brooklyn), suggested Anessa. It is a Mediterranean restaurant, and it's much classier than the original one in midtown Manhattan, Since it's beyond Manhattan, its prices are lower, too. Always reliable with great service and recipes, it became our favorite eatery. The reservationists are cheery and dependable women. George is our usual waiter, and his gay flamboyance is refreshing because it doesn't exist in most "Mediterranean eateries" of NYC. Lewis and I have a partiality for their succulent Greek sausage, sea bass skewers, grilled squid, and "lobster & spaghetti for two". Taking advantage of its strong drinks and innovative mixology, we celebrated birthdays there for Lewis, his mother, and his uncle. We also had a festive New Years Eve dinner there, and we didn't feel rushed, forgotten, or overcharged... as thousands of other places do to their clientele.
Sadly, Astoria Blvd. is the only major east-west road in Astoria to lack "life"; it was overshadowed by the massive--and always noisy--highway to the bridge. It bisects the neighborhood with 12 lanes of traffic, and usually prevents easy pedestrian crossings for more than half the length of the neighborhood.
*I took those photos from the platform of the Astoria Blvd. Subway Station, which NYC neglected for 30 years (look at its dilapidated roof).
Ditmars is the last stop on the elevated N/W subway route from Manhattan, so it is considered the final frontier of the neighborhood. The area nearest the station gets the most activity, yet it looks the most slovenly. It has Astoria's highest concentration of beggars, drunks, lunatics, and homelessness.
Constructed in the 1910s (and mostly neglected since then), the elevated subway tracks were used by NYC because they were cheaper than digging tunnels underground. Those tax-funded monstrosities are ugly, and they cast a rusty, blotchy shadow on taxpayers, as they bisect the entire district.
They also cause the noisy trains to be heard from five blocks away... day and night.
Half of the acreage north of Ditmars is swallowed by sewage treatment plants and Consolidated Edison power plants).
Aside from those dismal areas, the vicinity has pleasantness. With many European residents, Ditmars Blvd. provides sidewalk cafés, international eateries, bakeries, homes with front gardens, and "Mom & Pop" shops. It truly allows passersby to be boulevardiers.
*Quaint neighborhoods use the word Apothecary for their Pharmacy.
You might never guess that such an alcove is merely 15-minutes away from Manhattan's congested mess: unchanged and unimproved for 100+ years. If only the city's historical preservation was as important as the city's apparent efforts to sustain corruptly broken systems.
While Lewis and I are residents of New York, we will cherish our niche. We are proud to be among neighbors who clean their cars and sidewalks, upkeep their properties, prune their bushes, and even paint the fire hydrants (instead of waiting for NYC to never do it).
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As you can also see, typical Fire Alarm boxes (in pretty Victorian-era casings) are neglected by the overpaid city. One-third do not work. Like greedy industrial corporations that uncaringly leave a "Rust Belt" of neglected facilities across America, NYC lets these antiques become blemishes for hundreds of neighborhoods.
Residents in our area care enough about aesthetics to adorn the antediluvian antiques with new paint to avoid having eyesores.
Astoria has an accepting and tolerant environment.
Homeowners and proprietors are festive about decorating their doorsteps for seasons and holidays, which makes the scenery extra nice. The COVID pandemic will eliminate this year's Trick Or Treat ritual, but Halloween will still look festive.
I'm not sure that we'll see a celebration of the Mid-Autumn Moon Festival, but we spotted a bush of Chinese Lanterns.
To finish this blog entry, I'll include pictures of views from our 24-foot balcony. I never had a balcony or terrace before, so I'm excited to use it for fresh air, yoga, sunset cocktails, and al fresco dining.
Please enjoy Lewis' video of a magnificent sunset...
Alas, we don't like the smokestacks from NYC's hugely-corrupt Power Authority, Con-Ed, which spew dark smoke pollution.
NYC will never fix that. It could use hydro-power from its two rivers (or Niagara Falls) but Con-Ed was funded by a corrupt financier in the 1880s who decreed that it must enrich America's oil and coal conglomerates.
Sometimes, fog rolls in and hides the power plant and overcrowded skyscrapers, and that gives a secluded milieu.
We have a perfect view for New Year fireworks (generously ignited by our festive neighbors)...
...and their colorful fireworks for the Fourth of July! Enjoy this video of them and our view of Macy's--further south.
*During Astoria's summery fireworks (the week before Independence Day), the quay behind our condo is closed to the public so residents can admire them against the waterfront while the building sponsors a barbecue.
Actually, when everyone was outside, it was the perfect time to use the swimming pool!
On some mornings, the buildings in Long Island City reflect the sunshine into our living room... like ancient Egyptian mirrors.
Improvements to our lives are appreciated. We value these moments that finally shelter us from the harshness of NYC life.
However, we avoid complacency and retain our aspirations for how we want our lives to be. During the interim, I hope you enjoy my blog posts that are yet to come.
To see my Walking Tour of Astoria, please go here:
https://halfwindsorfullthrottle.blogspot.com/2015/06/walking-tour-streets-food-architecture.html
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