Wall Street and Brooklyn

We surfaced around ten o'clock, ready for another day of exploring. One of the brilliant things about our hotel was that a subway entrance was quite literally on our doorstep – super handy for getting around. The grand plan for the morning was to hop on the subway and head right down to the southern tip of Manhattan. However, it turned out Hurricane Sandy had other ideas, even weeks after she’d blown through. The South Ferry station, which would have been our stop, was closed for the foreseeable future.

You might remember seeing it on the news at the time; there was this unforgettable, dramatic footage of water absolutely gushing down the station stairs like a raging river, completely swamping the platforms below. It was a proper deluge. And the real kicker? The station had only recently reopened after a massive refurbishment before Sandy decided to give it another makeover, this time with a few million gallons of seawater. So, our straightforward trip south was going to need a bit of a rethink.

City Hall and Wall Street

Jane on the Subway

No worries about the South Ferry station being out of action; we were seasoned travellers by now (well, sort of) and quickly switched to Plan B. This involved a change of trains and a new destination: City Hall. Our original thought was to have a wander around nearby Chinatown, but on a quick assessment, the neighbourhood didn't look entirely like our cup of tea for a morning stroll, so we gave it a miss. Instead, we ambled around the impressive City Hall building itself and found a little plaza area dotted with snack stalls. Jane spotted a Korean kiosk and managed to get a lovely, steaming pot of chicken and noodle soup for only a couple of dollars, which she declared delicious. I just grabbed a coffee, taking in the city bustle.

One Police plaza

While Jane was enjoying her soup, we made friends with some of the local wildlife – a gang of surprisingly large and brazen squirrels. They weren't shy at all and happily relieved us of a bag of crisps, one by one. Entertainment over, we dropped back down into the subway and made our way to Wall Street. Taking a walk past the New York Stock Exchange was quite something; the whole area was a hive of activity, with serious-looking people striding about and more security than we’d ever seen in one place – very imposing.

Next on our loosely-formed agenda was the Police Museum, which was only a short walk away. I had a feeling this part of Lower Manhattan might have been affected by the hurricane a few weeks back, even if the streets themselves looked remarkably clear. The museum, I believe, was housed in a former police precinct building. Thinking it wise, I nipped ahead on my own to make sure it was actually open before we both trekked over. Good job I did. Despite the building looking perfectly unscathed from the outside, it was closed. Not a sausage about it on their website, which was a bit of a shame as I’d read it was a great place to explore. Apparently, all the staff had been temporarily redeployed to help with the massive clean-up effort across the city.

It was astonishing to see the sheer scale of work unfolding across Lower Manhattan. Just weeks after Sandy had hit, the cleanup and restoration efforts were already in full swing, an operation as vast as the damage itself. Everywhere you looked—cranes towering overhead, workmen scattered across construction sites, the constant hum of rebuilding—the city was charging forward, a true testament to its relentless, get-on-with-it spirit.

Brooklyn Bridge

Just a short walk from where the Police Museum wasn't, was something I’d genuinely always wanted to clap eyes on: the Brooklyn Bridge. And let me tell you, what an absolutely incredible sight it is when you're standing right there, ready to set foot on it! The sheer scale and intricate design just takes your breath away.

Now, I had no grand ambitions of walking the entire length all the way across to Brooklyn – that’s a proper trek! My plan was to venture as far as the first magnificent stone tower, and even from there, the views looking back towards the Manhattan skyline were simply jaw-dropping. Standing on that wooden boardwalk, you can't help but marvel at how on earth they managed to build such a colossal structure way back in 1883. It was the very first bridge to span the East River, a true testament to the engineering genius of the day, with its iconic Gothic arches and intricate web of steel cables.

The Brooklyn Bridge

Unlike most bridges, the Brooklyn Bridge features a unique elevated pathway running down its center—about 15 feet above the road—rather than along the sides. But don’t let the scenic walk lull you into a false sense of security; you’ll need to stay alert. The path is shared with a cycle lane, marked only by a thin white line, and it’s quite narrow in places—not that it’s particularly wide overall. Wander into it at the wrong moment, and you’ll quickly learn just how seriously cyclists take their space. It was highly entertaining watching them passionately shout, "Out the way!" at any unsuspecting pedestrian who dared to drift across the line.

After spending far too much time leaning over the railings trying to capture the perfect photograph (and probably getting in the way of a few cyclists myself), we headed down towards the edge of the river. It actually felt a lot warmer down there, with the glorious sunshine bouncing off the water. And the views back to the city skyline from that vantage point? Simply amazing.

Wall Street Pier

We found ourselves at a pier where a couple of ferries were docked. One was clearly a tour boat, doing the full commentary circuit, while the other looked more like a functional water taxi. We ambled over to a little kiosk to ask about getting a ferry across to the Brooklyn side. The woman inside, however, seemed utterly intent on selling us tickets for the expensive tour boat and wasn't the slightest bit helpful when we tried to ask about the simpler commuter ferry. Still, never ones to be easily defeated, we managed to work out the timetable for the one we wanted, discovered you could pay cash onboard (bonus!), and soon enough, we were setting sail. We chugged our way across the East River, heading for a place in Brooklyn called DUMBO – which, we learned, is rather unflatteringly short for Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass. Classic.

Dumbo

The ferry trip across the East River was a quick hop, probably ten minutes at most. Getting Jane off the boat at the DUMBO pier was a bit of a manoeuvre, as it wasn’t the most accessible setup, but blimey, it was definitely worth the effort once we were on solid ground.

Brooklyn Bridge From Dumbo

The first thing that strikes you in DUMBO is just how incredibly close the Manhattan Bridge looms. It’s practically on top of you, even straddling some of the old warehouse buildings that give the area its character. It's a fascinating jumble of cobbled streets and trendy converted spaces, all sitting literally "Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass." The oddest thing was the temperature. Back on Wall Street, surrounded by those canyons of skyscrapers, we were freezing. But out here on the Brooklyn pier, and later in Brooklyn Bridge Park, it felt a good 10°C warmer. Finally, some direct sunlight on our bones! We sat for a while in the park, and the views back to the Brooklyn Bridge, glowing a magnificent red and gold in the late afternoon sun, were just stunning. Looking south, the Statue of Liberty stood proudly in the distance. Naturally, I took far, far too many photos.

All that fresh air and sightseeing had us starting to feel a bit peckish, so it was time to hunt for some grub. A fair few places in DUMBO were still closed due to the flooding from Hurricane Sandy, and you could tell it was a bit of a tourist hotspot price-wise. Still, when you’re hungry, you can usually sniff out somewhere decent without too much trouble.

Medium Grimaldi's Pizza

And boy, did we get lucky today! We stumbled upon an Italian place called Grimaldi's, famed for its coal-brick oven pizzeria. We dived inside, eager to refuel. I don’t think either of us had ever seen a pizza that enormous outside of a cartoon. For $14, plus $2 per topping, it was looking like fantastic value. We opted for a "medium," which turned out to be a whopping 16 inches across! That's a serious amount of pizza when it lands on your table. The best bit was that the kitchen, complete with the all-important coal-fired oven, was right there in the bar area, so you could watch your magnificent creation being tossed, topped, and baked right before your eyes. It took some serious effort to get through it between the two of us, and even then, we had to admit defeat and leave two slices. All this, including drinks, tax, and a tip, came to just $27.

The bloke who served us seemed a tad put out that we didn't want to take the leftovers with us in a doggie bag. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with it – quite the opposite – but neither of us are big fans of cold pizza. We could barely move when we finally heaved ourselves up to leave, Grimaldi's is definitely one place we’ll be making a beeline for on our next visit!

With that epic meal over, and Jane's leg starting to remind her it had been a long day, it was time to start thinking about making a move back towards the hotel. The journey back, however, turned into a bit of a palaver. To get the subway under the East River from Brooklyn, you have to go down fairly deep at High Street station. There were a lot of steps for Jane to navigate, with no lifts in sight and an escalator that moved at warp speed, making it impossible for her to get on safely.

Our original plan was to catch the C train. But when we eventually made it down to that particular platform level, we could see the tracks were clearly flooded – a rather unwelcome souvenir from Hurricane Sandy. Frustratingly, there weren't any signs further up warning you not to bother heading down there. So, it was back up the mountain of steps we went, and time to figure out a different route. This, unfortunately, involved changing trains at a station called Chambers Street. It’s a massive, sprawling interchange, all underground, and it felt like we walked for miles through endless tunnels and up and down countless flights of stairs. I’m pretty sure it would have been quicker, and certainly easier on the legs, to go up to street level and come back down again at a different entrance.

Eventually, after what felt like an age, we found our way to the Number 1 line, which would, thankfully, drop us off right near our hotel. We finally stumbled out of the subway around 8:30 p.m. grabbed a few bits from the local shop for a late-night snack, and retreated to our room to chill out and recover from our unexpected subterranean obstacle course.

Neon Nightmare

Giant baubles

Later that evening, with Jane presumably enjoying a well-earned rest, I decided to head out on my own again, back into the electric embrace of Times Square. I’d always fancied having a proper go at capturing those iconic photos of the dazzling neon signs, the kind you see splashed across travel magazines. Armed with my camera, I wandered into the heart of it all, ready to create some photographic masterpieces. Turns out, it’s not nearly as easy as it looks! Wrestling with reflections, judging exposure times with all those constantly changing lights, and trying to get a shot that wasn’t just a blurry mess of colour was a real challenge. I can’t remember exactly how long I spent out there, wandering from one glowing billboard to another, trying (and often failing) to get those perfect, iconic shots.

I got back to the hotel at a much more respectable hour this evening, feeling like a semi-professional photographer, or at least a very persistent amateur. We still had the window open. We’d finally managed to wrestle the room’s heating into submission and turn it off, but it was still a bit on the warm side. Speaking of the window, the view wasn't exactly one for the postcards. I think we were on the fifth floor of what was probably a twelve-storey building, and our vista consisted mainly of other hotel room windows across what must have been a small, rather unglamorous courtyard below. The star attraction of this particular panorama? A fine collection of dumpsters. Still, you can't have everything, can you?

It's funny, though, just lying there with the window open, listening to the unfiltered sounds of New York City. It’s a constant symphony of cars swishing by, the wail of sirens in the distance (which always makes you wonder what drama is unfolding), and the incessant hooting of car horns. They seem to hoot their horns all the time here, day and night. I honestly don't think anyone knows who’s hooting at whom most of the time; it just seems to be part of the city’s natural background hum.

With my photographic ambitions temporarily satisfied and the city serenading us from outside, it was finally time to crack open a couple of those tins of beer, stick the telly on for a bit, and look forward to sinking into that big, comfy bed. Another New York day done and dusted.