The New York Experience: Fall Edition

New York, in the Fall, or Autumn as I would usually say, is a beautiful time, particularly if you are walking the gorgeous, tree-lined streets in the historic district of Brooklyn Heights. With Winter approaching, the air has a certain chill, not yet unbearable, that makes you want to don a snuggly sweater, an oversized scarf and a pair of boots not designed for snow, and take a stroll outside for the crisp refreshment that comes with the Autumn temperatures. The leaves on the trees, in tones of copper, orange, rust and mustard, are slowly and sporadically floating away from their branches, and it looks resplendent against the backdrop of the brownstone townhouses that line the quiet streets. It was a November day such as this, which to me, held the epitome of the dreamy experience of what it is to live in New York.

It was a Sunday, and I can’t even recall whether it had been a busy weekend, week or even month. But I do remember waking up slowly, and without needing to express it verbally, my partner and I came to a mutual agreement that it was indeed going to be an easy Sunday. We took our time to get dressed, not because we were carefully planning our outfits or wanted to take care to avoid wrinkles, but because we were warm, cozy, and not in a rush for anything, except perhaps for a good hit of caffeine.

Wearing the aforementioned snug sweaters, scarves and boots, we ventured from the little one bedroom apartment we were sub-letting at the time, down the three flights of stairs of the at-least-a-century old brownstone building and stepped out into the brisk late-morning that greeted  the residents of Brooklyn Heights. It was no question where we needed to go – it was absolutely a bagel kind of day.

Making our way through the neighborhood, we began what has no doubt become a ritual for those designated easy Sundays, even if the location or neighborhood has changed many a time over the past year. First stop, bagels. While any corner deli will happily satisfy your boiled-bread craving, on this Sunday we opted for the establishment that had a plethora of bagels and fillings. Even though there are only a few selections in my rotation, there is just something about having the choice should I ever decide to deviate. Next stop was next door at the little shop whose category of wares for sale was a little unclear, but they sold the New York Times and at that stage, that’s all we wanted from them, and so that’s what we got. The final point of the ingredient triage that makes for a perfect Sunday was to head to our carefully researched, sampled and selected coffee shop. Unlike a lot of New Yorkers, and like many Melburnians, we are huge coffee snobs and will go out of our way to ensure our espresso is perfection. Luckily, we were in good company by one local food store whose manipulation of its beans hit our high standards. As we wandered through the foliage, admiring the strains of sunlights glinting through the semi-bare branches, we picked up our brew of choice before heading back to the comfort of home.

The activity that followed is perhaps not everybody’s cup of tea, but for me it was perfect. Spend the day lounging, tucking into a bagel, sipping what we would call a ‘proper’ coffee, and poring over The Times and discussing the key arguments presented by world-class journalists. Oh, and when you feel the need, head on out to the amazing deck that sat perpendicular to our living room to enjoy the view, to breathe in the fresh air, and to remember that wow, you are living the life in Brooklyn, New York.

I know that when I tell most people, particularly those back home in Australia, that I live in New York, they imagine a glamorous, fast-paced life filled with parties, excessive consumption and brushes with celebrity. I am not saying that this doesn’t happen, it does, just not on a level or frequency that most people outside of New York expect. And to be honest, this is not what makes New York great. No, it’s the little things, like waking up in a tiny but gloriously cozy apartment, heading to your corner deli, picking up a coffee and reading the New York Times all Sunday, that makes it wonderful. That, to me, is the real New York experience, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.