Sara's Derive 1
February 19, 2018, by Sara
Since I’ve lived in New York, I’ve found myself really attached to the West Village. I don’t know it very well, and the parts I do are on the east side of Bleecker Street. My derive took me all the way over to the West Side.
So much of our reading has touched on the Lower East Side, or areas near Astor Place and the Bowery. Starting my derive near Hudson Street felt very separate from much of the history we have so far learned about, despite the fact that I was still very much “below 14th Street.”
I started on the corner of Hudson and Greenwich. In a sense, my derive started as soon as I got off the train at the 14th St-8 Avenue stop. I was immediately lost. The streets in this area remind me more of London. They turn and bend in ways that the gridded areas of the city does not allow for. I set off without a map, and walked for five minutes in the complete wrong direction. I eventually found my way back to 8th Avenue and walked down to begin my derive for real.
The first thing I always notice about the West Village is its quietude. This was a Friday afternoon, before school got out and people got off work. The area is also mainly residential. The corner I started on was right beside a restaurant called the Spotted Pig. It was past the main lunch hour. I imagine that just an hour or two prior, the tables would have been full. I can imagine the clattering of the uniform china and the white noise-ness of each table’s conversations blending together. I was happy to start out in a more peaceful manner.
I wandered past a parking garage. The sign felt rustic, or at the very least, older than so much of the signage throughout the city. I took a picture of the sign and kept moving. No cars dove in and out. The sign reminded me of the class discussion about the building up of the grid itself, and the concept of city planning as well.
The houses in this part of Manhattan are just that: houses. I walked past hardly any homes that were built in the rigid, tightly packed apartment style like so much of the rest of the city. I realized that I didn’t actually know much of the history of the West Village. How old was this area? When did it build up? Something about the quality of the buildings felt old.
Because the area was so quiet, I was drawn to the noise of the Westside Highway. It’s built right on the outside rim of Manhattan. When you get to the intersection it’s like standing in the middle of the freeway, even though it’s just inches from the sidewalk.
I waited at the crosswalk and saw a house that stuck out. Unlike the others, this house was clearly modern. The building was beige stucco instead of brownstone. It had a wide, dark wooden door. The whole front had modern “fixings.” It was covered in that dark grey metal. Doorknob, doorbell, mail slot, buzzer. It looked like nothing else on the street.
I crossed the street (highway) to the pier. The day was overcast, and the water churned in the wind. Across the river I could see New Jersey. If I looked all the way down I could see the One World Trade building. This oriented me more than anything else on the trip.
I also thought about Sante’s idea of Broadway as the “spine” of the city. The “nicer” areas were typically closer to the middle, while the farther out was poorer, or less desirable. However, there is also the question of West versus East. Until the highway, the West Village seems one of the “fanciest” areas in downtown.
For a while, I sit down on the bench facing the water. The wind for the most part drowns out the cars behind me. A woman does exercises with her trainer to my back left.
Runners go by, but nobody cuts in front of me. When I get up, the derive cue is to walk at half-pace for two blocks or so. Now, the runners edge by me much faster. People are quick to wonder about slow movers in New York. Usually, I am one of those.
When I cross the street and walk up Perry inland, the quiet returns. Most of the people I see are workers. I pass a group of men leaning over a railing talking to a colleague in Spanish in the basement. They are all laughing and smoking. A few of them sand or paint the exterior.
The derive app prompts me to find an olfactory experience to document. I walk past a gourmet food shop, expecting to smell the deli inside. A man stands behind the counter, using the meat grinder on ham or turkey, or some lunch meat I can’t quite see. But I can’t smell a thing – a rarity in the city to me. I walk past the windows farther and most of the shelves are empty. One has a rack of sunflower seeds and trail mixes. The sight is bizarre. How can a deli sell out at two in the afternoon? Is it closing?
Farther down, I smell a coffee shop before I see it. The store is one of those new ones; it is trendy and dark wooded and inside everyone sits at barstools that I’m sure they are only pretending to be comfortable in. I don’t think there has ever been a really comfortable bar stool.
Later the app tells me to find a place to hide a body. That’s a little alarming, but means I have to look at a space completely outside of how I normally would. I don’t think I have enough malice in me for this. The spot I settle on reluctantly turns out to be a mistake. Not much farther is as NYPD station. Inside the open garage doors, visible between the bomb squad trucks are a good weepy looking tree - left from Christmas or just a potted plant? – is a yellow flag spans the office. “Welcome to Huntsville, AL.” I feel guilty just being there and move on. ! [Nearby the police station] (https://imgur.com/a/oP1OE)
I get to a corner and decide to turn, but while I’m waiting for the light it begins to sprinkle. A boy on a skateboard waits opposite me. He carries a bouquet of white flowers. He doesn’t seem bothered by the rain.
I walk down, winding around blocks and then I realize I’m familiar with a street corner for only the second time in the entire derive. I’m on Bedford and Grove – it’s the spot of the Friends apartment.
Today I don’t stop for a picture, although the only other time I went down this road, I did in an instant. Instead I keep going, winding around blocks and following the prompts to turn left and then right and then pick up a piece of litter.
I end just after the litter prompt. What surprises me is I walk a block without seeing anything substantial to pick up. I wonder if New York is cleaning up its act, or perhaps someone came before me. I end the derive when I begin to recognize my surroundings. I am nearly to Seventh Ave. Just after I end, on my way back to school, the rain starts to really pour.