Darjeeling, India from 9-29 April, 2010

Darjeeling is one of several hill stations in the West Bengal state of Eastern India, bordering Nepal. Any Indian who can afford to escape the parasitic heat of the plains, Delhi, Mumbaiharu* during the spring before the monsoon does so by coming up here. You can’t even get a seat on a reserve AC train nowadays, and the jeeps up from Siliguri are packed full; young guys even hang off the ladder in the back. I spent three weeks in Darjeeling during April, and I would like to tell you about my experience there, because maybe you want to travel to India, and also some interesting things happened.

* haru is a very useful Nepali suffix meaning “and others;” so “Fulbrightharu” means my friend Emma and her fellow Fulbrighters. “Mumbaiharu” means hot places like Mumbai.

1. Weather

While Siliguriharu are 38º-45ºC, Darjeeling hovers around 20º, a bit warmer in the sun. It rains fantastic many nights, there’s lightning and thunder and terrific winds and it’s just like being in a movie, with sheets of peanut m&m droplets pouring down. It’s like the shower. My house, like all of Darjeeling, was built into the side of a steep hill looking across a valley. On the other side are other villages and in the center a dry riverbed. You can see a dry waterfall, which rushes full during and after the monsoon. Fog comes in the wrinkles of the hill like the wisps of a long beard, unfurled Q-tip, some kind of cloud comma. Low clouds look like a hand clawing over the peaks to take out all the dry. One time there was a big anvil across the valley, over the village opposite my room. I could see black sky with stars on three sides and Zeusian bolts of lightning hitting the ground below. The hills were close enough to see the individual bolts, like a doodle. But on all other sides, black and starry. Rare.

2. Water Carrying Vehicle Accident

One day, maybe Monday the 19^th, I was walking up my road to Chowrasta, the center of town. Maybe I was going to internet or to buy biscuits. Every road is like a bobby pin and very steep. In Darjeeling people are fit from so much walking uphill and down. And when I reached the guest house with the pretty fence, there was a massive crashed water carrying vehicle. It had skidded down the very vertical dirt slope from Chowrasta, probably 40’ above. Where the truck had skidded was clearly visible; fresh and damp dirt smelled summertime and planting, even down to the road, where the pavement was broken away and the pretty fence crushed into the guest house. Glass and rocks and dirt strewed the road. The whole truck was upside down, and inside the cab was shattered glass and the bent steering wheel and decals of Hindu gods and pompoms and maybe that dark stain was blood but maybe not. The very verticle slope continued down the other side of the road and it was beyond remarkable that the truck didn’t just keep on skidding down.

durham to chapel hill: comparative review of roadways

Rarely have I regularly commuted by a car. For the past weeks, I have been driving daily about an hour round trip from Durham to Chapel Hill.

15 501: this is the main highway that is very convenient to get to from my house. All is well with this one until you get to the part where there is eternal construction, and what I have known for years as The Longest Light Ever at the Garret Road intersection. You might think that is the worst that it gets, but wait until the section known as Fordham Blvd. The woman who owns the farm I'm working at describes this bit of road as Torturous. There's no way to avoid Fordham Blvd., but I find it somewhat more bearable if I avoid getting on 15 501 for as long as possible....

+ Fast in theory....though only if there isn't traffic which is basically never
+ Easier access to other roads like I40, the Freeway etc...
+ You don't really have to worry about deer
+ It's easier to just stay on this road rather than turn off, especially at rush hour on the way back from CH to Durham.
+ there is a conveniently located bojangles
- People are aggressive
- People drive really fast and try to run you off the road
- It's crowded and there are lights and there's always construction
- I'm pretty sure they took down the best billboards which said Walk to Duke/Bike to UNC
- I feel worse about humanity when I am on this road


Erwin Road:
This is a "secret" rural road that goes basically from my house to the start of horrible Fordham Blvd. essentially cutting the amount of time spent on 15 501 in half. I've always known it as Old Erwin, but apparently the street signs just say Erwin. This road is the best because it's scenic, but get this: the speed limit is the same as the majority of the bad part of 15 501. Also, this road has a lot of landmarks on it for me: my middle school, a lot of childhood friends lived off it, and the pool we used to go to in the summer. It is dark and wind-y...one house actually mounted a mirror on a tree across the road from their driveway which I have always thought suggested that tricky and/or dangerous situations have occurred there in the past.

+ so lovely in the sun dappled light of afternoon
+ lots of flowering trees this time of year
+ sights include: my middle school, a church with active wayside pulpit, a horse farm
- lots of deer a night, I'm always terrified of hitting them
- people blind you with their brights nonstop on this road
- I always get stuck behind slow people
- the round-about at the durham end of the road is always nonstop confusing
- it isn't really a secret so sometimes it can be busy

Verdict: why would anyone not take old erwin? my quality of life is so much better after taking that road.

this is as pretty as it gets on 15 501...

Holi

Sunday 28 Feb was the biggest day of celebrating the holiday Holi in the Kathmandu Valley. Even though the story of Holi is pretty disturbing, it seems to be a holiday about fun and color and impish mischief. The story of Holi is this: One king of demons, Hiranyakashipu, tried to kill his son Prahlada, but he could not be killed because of his intense devotion to Vishnu. Hiranyakashipu’s daughter Holika had a special shawl that kept her safe from fire; Hiranyakashipu thought that if he wrapped Holika in the shawl, put Prahlada on Holika’s lap and put both children on a pyre, Prahlada would die and Holika would live. Actually, Prahlada’s devotion to Vishnu caused the shawl to fly from Holika to him, and ultimately Holika died and Prahlada lived. Later Vishnu came and killed Hiranayakashipu. (For this information, thank you to the guy on the Pharping bus and Wikipedia.) Maybe the link between Holika dying and women getting water thrown at them is because Holika's faith in Vishnu wasn't strong enough to keep her protected from the fire, and Vishnu is associated with water, or maybe it's because water extinguishes fire. I am not sure. In any case, people of many religions celebrate Holi. This article from the Himalayan Times tells about members of Nepal's Constituent Assembly celebrating Holi.

The whole valley, from Bouddha to my village of Pharping, was full of people throwing water at each other for the past three days. Groups of kids stood around and waited for passersby they could attack with lolas, or water ammo, like balloons and squirt guns or just buckets of water. Some of the water is very dirty or colored with powder or dyes. The colors are actually quite toxic, yet all around town people were covered with powder residue and painted their faces with toxic metallic paints to celebrate. On Friday ago I rode 20km to KTM on a motorbike with my co-worker Phurba and we were pelted with three water balloons. Then Sunday morning in Bouddha, I had litres and litres of water dumped on me, many water balloons thrown, lots of water squirted at me from makeshift plastic water bottle guns, and was freezing and miserable on the 90-minute ride back to Pharping. It was like I had taken a shower. I had wet hair, was soaked through to the skin, wet underneath long underwear and my chuba and my sweater.

I guess Holi is fun--I'd feel like a spoilsport saying it wasn't fun--but actually I was uncomfortable and dirty and then anxious and irritated. Plus, mainly girls are targeted with lolas. In Holi-focused newspaper interviews, people said extreme things, like The government should regulate the selling of water guns or Boys throwing lolas should go to jail. But this type of communal neighborhood raucous activity is endemic to Nepal, and I can't imagine it will change any time soon.

Pressure Cookers

Pressure cookers: the thing of the future! Or the past. According to my mom: “It was the Big Technology of the 50’s & came to represent a Betty Crocker life, so was despised in the 60’s.” Well, they’re easy to use and efficient with resources like gas or an outdoor fire and cook really quickly and I love them.

In Nepal, a 5-ltr. pressure cooker will cook enough dal for eight people for two-three days, in under thirty minutes. First fry tomatoes and onions with masala, then add rinsed dal and fill it up with water halfway. Let it ffffssssst three times and then open it and taste—may need some more time or water or salt.

Some tips: if you’re cooking outside over a fire, smear the pot with mud—a very good insulator. Sealing the lid is tricky; realize that it’s elliptical and must be inserted with the lid handle at 90º to the pot handle. Make sure all the steam is out before you remove the lid, and if the lid still sticks, hold the steamhole open (with a piece of cloth or cardboard because it’s kind of hot) until all the steam is released and then bang the lid in.

In addition to dal, pressure cookers boil potatoes and cassava/yam-type roots so fast, bake cakes supposedly, and cook especially delicious rice (even better if you have Bhutanese or Sikkim red rice). Plus they make this fantastic loud ffffssssst sound when the steam comes out.

Beverages in Italy

All around Rome there are water fountains for drinking. The water pours from the sides of buildings, pillars, lions’ mouths, and falls into stone drains in the ancient cobblestones. The two in Piazza San Pietro (the Vatican) were busier, maybe because the sun was shining so hotly, but the water wasn’t as tasty there as the one we first encountered on Via della Conciliazione. At that one, a small boy protested in fear as his mother picked him up to drink directly from the lion’s mouth. According to Manuela, she told him, Come on! It’s just a puppet. The water was cool, fresh-tasting, and flowed smoothly. It might have also been my favorite because it was the first one I saw.

These water fountains are interesting because at no establishment can one be served simply water from the tap. Manu said she was always afraid to ask for tap water because to ask for tap water sends a strong message, having to do with authority and government and culture and environmentalism. One time on Via San Rocco in Bologna she did ask for tap water, and the bartender said it was against Italian law to serve it to customers. But he gave us two glasses of mineral water for free.

The signature drink of Venice is Spritz, a cocktail made with wine, Aperol (a bitter Italian liquer; you can substitute Campari), seltzer sometimes, and a slice of orange and an olive. The color of the drink is a deep neon orange. The salty green olive on the wooden skewer was the best part for me. We had two Spritzes in Venice, one in Gheto Vechio (a Jewish quarter) and the other in a piazza right across the Grand Canal from the train station, take a right and a left and a right, keep walking until you are in a big open piazza with a few trees near a sandwich shop whose owner is named Renato.

Espresso! Drunk from a tiny ceramic teacup and saucer while standing up. Manu puts sugar in hers so I did too, and it comes with tiny spoon for stirring. An expensive espresso will run you about 1,40 euro. I mostly had espresso—at various caffés, on the train to Venice, with brioche, at Manu’s house—but had a cappuccino at the airport. Only whole milk produces such good foam. It really is a perfect mix of strong bitter dark sweet linger enveloping your mouth.

144 hours in Madison, WI

I knew very little about Madison before I visited, other than what I’d heard from the three friends who live there, and from other people who always say “I’ve heard it is very nice.”

I agree that it is very nice, especially during the last week of July, especially when coming from southern East Coast humidity.

Lots of things pleasantly surprised me. Julia (who I went to visit) had told me about the Capitol building in the center of town, but I didn’t really understand how central it is in the downtown area where she lives. Hopefully Julia or someone will read this and correct me if I am wrong, but to me it seemed the Capitol building and four main streets radiating from it orient the whole downtown area. You can look down State Street (a bike/bus/pedestrian only mall) and see the dome looming, reminding me of cathedrals of small European cities like Seville. Julia and I enjoyed going to the Capitol most days, for the air conditioning, the superb water fountain selection, and to see all the architectural treasures.

Other things of note include the farmers market every Saturday which takes place on the sidewalk around the square block of the Capitol. They sell cheese curds there and cheesy bread and everyone walks around it in one direction very slowly like cattle. Also everyone loves it. All of Julia’s housemates we saw that day had to reference having just been to the FM or asking if we had been to the FM or saying “we are going to go to the FM” with such excitement!

The general water fountain quality and quantity of the whole city is really quite superb. I really appreciated the water quality of city water.

Also, Madison is on the isthmus between two lakes. Who knew? I enjoyed James Madison Park, a grassy knoll on the water, and the Union Terrace at the university where you can sit and watch the sailboats.

I also enjoyed my walk down Willy St. including the food co-op and the lovely flowers growing and in everyone’s yard, and cherry coke at Nick’s, Julia’s new favorite place. Also, I think if you were to look into the city’s history of co-operative housing (and co-operative other things), like the International Co-op where Julia lives and I stayed, you would be intrigued.

Updates

Two updates on some essential things that I have reviewed before.

1. Today while walking around in the rain, I had to take refuge in the Nassau Ave. G station for a second, and also to find out how much money is on my metrocard. Who knew? I have to correct my early review of this station, and say it is more interesting than I thought. I had only ever gone in the Norman Ave. entrance, but the Nassau Ave one is larger has a lot of stairs everywhere, and even some old mosaics reading "To Brooklyn" "To LI City and Jamaica." The station was opened in 1933. Apparently you can also see where the old wooden token booth was from back in the day. Here's a picture from this subway website of the maze-like quality of this station:


2. I think I have some evidence that some Greenpoint readers really took me up on my Earplug advice! Yesterday I went two 3 drugstores looking for the Mack's ear plug brand I previously reviewed, and they were out at both Rite Aids on Manhattan Ave! I had to go to the more expensive Duane Reade, and found a good selection, including a smaller size (Mack's Jr.) which I think will eliminate the problem I reported on earlier. Also, they are purple.

Stops on the G Train

"You gotta love the G train. If you love it, it’ll love you back.”

Court House Sq. -- I don't like the race from the E, V trains to try to make the G train. You get tricked into thinking that there is no wait, since there are always G trains waiting in the station. The only difference is that you can wait while sitting in the train, waiting for the bell to ding and the doors to close.

21st St./Van Alst -- I do not get the point of this station. Have never been here, and don't need to since it is about half a block from Court Sq.

Greenpoint Ave. -- The station I know best. Sometimes the card swipes don't work, and sometimes there are men passed out by the turnstiles. I like thinking about how much cumulative time I have spent waiting here. How many of my ideas can I credit to reflection time, waiting on the G?

Nassau -- Meticulous G train riders will have realized that I forgot about Nassau in the first version of this review. I think that's accurate. Notable things near this stop are the Greenpoint Library, McCarren Park, and Peter Pan Doughnuts. Other than that, it is nondescript.

Metropolitan/Lorimer -- I swear they have timed the L train to just miss the arriving G trains. Whenever I take the L train here, I have just missed the latest G and it is 15-20 minutes wait or sometimes more! In winter, this G train platform has a cold breeze even though it is underground. What?? I do like the musicians who sometimes play down there on the Smith-9 bound platform.

Broadway -- Have never stopped here, but always seems creepy from all the stains on the walls.

Flushing -- no opinion.

Myrtle/Willoughby -- Never been but always a ton of people get out here.

Bedford Nostrand -- The only times I have waited here are with the G goes unexpectedly "express" or they do that weird late night shuttle thing, or that time the whole g train shut down below this stop.

Classon -- no opinion

Clinton Washington -- there were stretches this winter when I waited here late at night for what seemed like hours and hours. These exits might be the most scenic exits on the G line, especially the SE Washington and Lafayette exit in spring when the roses are in bloom. Climbing the stairs, I swear you can actually smell all the greenery growing around here.

Fulton -- This is the worst stop to wait at. It always takes forever, and there are so many misleading traffic noises that make you think the train is coming and it isn't.

Hoyt Schermerhorn -- Once I waited here for about 45 minutes with a crowd of people before they annouced that the G wasn't coming. Negative points for the A/C trains often not running here on the weekends and it never being clear what's going on.

Bergen St. -- Never had to wait here too long except one time for the F train when I had to pee really bad.

Caroll St. -- Again, never had to wait long here. Something about this area of Brooklyn?

Smith - 9 -- Always seems like a long wait here. Once I went through here on the F train and since I had left my house it had started snowing. When we emerged above ground, the skyline of Brooklyn was full of huge snowflakes -- the first of the year.


Great article about the G train

If you are a G train rider, I encourage you to comment with your own reviews of the different stops.

Atlantic Avenue Tunnel Tour: visiting the world's oldest subway tunnel

Things got wild as soon as we crossed Atlantic Avenue halfway to the median and waited in a huddled group under umbrellas for our turn to climb down into the manhole. The photo above shows what we found when we climbed down the ladder: a dirt room and big beam to duck under, before crawling through a little hole in a stone wall. Then down some wooden steps ("careful--uneven and slippery," said two men sitting on either side of the hole.) Then we were in the oldest subway tunnel in the world.

Bob Diamond discovered the tunnel when he was 19 years old and an engineering student at Pratt. That was 148 years after the tunnel had been built, and probably more than a half century since it had been filled in and forgotten about -- almost. Bob has been leading tours of the tunnel in the 23 years since he discovered it, explaining the tunnel's origins following the tradition of Roman architecture to the point when it got sealed off mixed up in corrupt local politics, and the mythic place it came to hold in Brooklyn oral history and folklore. Even the story of how Bob came to find it is pretty nuts.

Anyway, waiting for 100 people to climb down a ladder into a manhole took quite awhile. But like that guy on the stairs predicted, we all felt it was definitely worth it. We can't understand why you wouldn't also be dying to go see the tunnel, and support Bob's effort to raise funds and awareness to excavate the far end where he believes a 19th century train engine is still buried.

More information on tunnel tours held monthly at Atlantic Avenue and Court St.

Read Theresa's review of the tour here

David Adjaye's Design for the NMAHC

I'm not really a design nut, but I do really enjoy museums, and this article on the National Museum of African American History and Culture made me really thrilled to see the building itself when its completed. Maybe it's the use of the words "shimmering" or "zigzagging" or "intricate cultural narrative," but I am absolutely dying to see this happen, both for the museum collections and the physical structure. It looks like the building is going to be a gorgeous addition to the Mall.

As I said, I'm not so big on design, but David Adjaye seems like an interesting choice, especially considering that he's not African American, but actually British. I like his thought process behind the building, taking cues from a variety of different art forms, including both African and American, as well as making it usable as the both public and private space that a museum needs to be.

I guess lately I'm getting into DC (I literally cannot stop thinking about Tabard Inn, a little hotel where we had the world's greatest doughnuts two months ago, and where we might stay on our next visit). I'm very excited for at least one quick weekend trip down there this summer.

Weekend Trains

I doubt that anyone would come here looking for subway information, but I recently became an expert on train service advisories, as of my last subway ride from Tribeca to Greenpoint.

The A is actually running normally this weekend. There is no C train, instead the F train is the C train. I don't know what this means, but they are having train announcers justify it premptively by describing "necessary construction." Okay. There is no F train. Instead, if you want to go to Coney Island, you have to get to the G at Hoyt Schermerhorn and take it towards Smith-9 where it will continue on the F train line to Coney Island. This also means the G trains are extra long, and seem to be extra frequent. Marvel at the sight of the long G train! It continually thrills me.

To summarize. The F is the C. The G is the F. The A is normal.

This is probably for this weekend only, and maybe next weekend. The N, Q, R, W are also all messed up, but don't ask me about that. All I know is that if you want to go to City Hall, don't even bother with the Broadway line. Just take the 4 or 5.

Airport Review

I really dislike all aspects of air travel. I decided to boycott it last May, but ended up taking a plane home today anyway.

Getting to the airport:
I debated for a long time about the best combination of public transportation to take to Laguardia and almost broke down and took a taxi because my flight was pretty early. I ended up taking the combination of B61 to 7 train at Court Square in Queens to the Q72 bus. It actually was pretty easy considering I left at 5:30 am, even though I felt a little worried about being out and about so early when streets and subway platforms are not so crowded, and me with all my most expensive possessions in one bag. One thing is that the transfer to the Q72 is not free, so the trip costs 4$ and takes about an hour.

The Delta Terminal
I usually don’t take Delta so here I am discovering a whole new wing of the Laguardia airport. It is much worse than the other, main terminal I’ve been to (whatever American is?). There are no food options outside of security, and you probably wouldn’t even have time because the lines were so long, even at 6:30am. A checked bag costs 15$ extra, and they don’t even warn you about this until they want your credit card (I guess that's what I get for my boycott over the past 11 months -- not knowing the new rules. That stupid liquid thing is still in place though.) Security was nuts, with everyone frantically undressing and lining up their little buckets.

Luckily they did not make me throw away my empty $15 water bottle. I thought they would.

Inside security, the food options were bad. Sbarros, Chilis, Burger King, and Starbucks, and a little Dunkin Donuts stand. And some gift shops and a Brooks Brothers. Not even one place to buy a bagel. At the gates, that relentless booming audio from the CNN channel broadcast everywhere. It is deafening. I do not want to hear minute by minute updates about the Somali pirate hostage. I do not want to hear the early morning hosts talk about possible connections to the worldwide terrorist network. At least it is less offensive than the Lou Dobbs immigration tirade I had to hear last time I flew, as they meanwhile canceled my flight.

I still do sort of enjoy the cultureless vacuum of timelessness that is the airport. Other than that, I still hate it and resent it as an industry and will have to resume my boycott. (When you add up all the extra time getting here the waiting and the trip, the train is not that much longer.)

Update: Now that I have arrived, I would like to point out that the Raleigh-Durham airport is downright chic. When did they renovate?

Excellence Punta Cana

As you may know, I spent the weekend in the Dominican Republic. We stayed at the Excellence Punta Cana, a resort about an hour and a half away from the airport. I drank, ate, swam, had a spa treatment, did some yoga, and talked to a lot of the staff and none of the other guests. Other than this, I did nothing except lounge in the sun.

This could be the perfect weekend. In some ways, it really was. The food was mediocre at best (the only thing I really enjoyed was lobster at a restaurant that serves nothing but lobster), but the drinks were excellent (by excellent I mean that some had lots of alcohol and all had lots of fruit), and we definitely drank our money's worth. The ocean water was rougher than I'd seen before in the Caribbean, but we did swim in it, and made ample use of the resort's two pools, one of which had a swim-up bar. There are beds on the beach and near the pools, and lounging around in the sun was fantastic. The resort was clearly made for couples, and honeymooners got a special sash for their doors, so my two roommates and I definitely got extra attention from the staff, two of whom gave us their e-mail addresses. There was always someone walking around ready to take your drink order, and at times, just passing out drinks or food. It was lovely to partake in this bit of hedonism.

But, at the back of my mind, there was always a pushing feeling of exploitation, and at times it made it difficult to enjoy myself. The resort system is built to replicate a system of servitude, and while it can be wonderful to be waited on, it's bizarre to be staying in a hotel centered around that. (Did I say this was my first experience with an all-inclusive?) I felt badly for being there because of the food waste, because of the low wages, because of the instability of the job, because I was enjoying myself, and because I was feeling badly. Most of my vacations contribute nothing to a place, but I usually don't go about them so problematically. This, of course, led to my thinking about all the things I enjoy, which of course, led to the thought, all of my happiness is built on exploitation and the suffering of others. My bargain hunting, my traveling, my addiction to diet soda, my ceaseless use of electricity and paper, my existence means that someone somewhere is existing in a completely different way. I don't like having to think about this sort of thing while I'm on vacation, and that's a lot of what I did.

I'm not saying that I regret the trip; I don't. I got to spend time with two of my closest friends, who I haven't really spent much time with since graduation, and remember why I liked them so much. I got to rest and relax, and not go to work. I got fantastic drinks and a tan. I also got a more personal awareness of the problems with tourism. The trip was a welcome break from the mundane world I face in my cubicle everyday, and it definitely helped me learn a little bit more about myself. I'm glad that I spent the past weekend in paradise, but I don't think I'd ever go back in the same way. From now on, I think I'll be a little more careful about my priorities as I plan my trips.

B61

A few weeks ago I started regularly taking the B61 bus. It travels between from Queens Plaza in Long Island City to Ikea in Redhook, and provides me a pleasant alternative to taking the G train to such places as the 7, E, and L trains, as well as Kristin's house.

The weather has just changed, so I am not sure how I would have liked waiting for the bus in very cold temperatures. This time of year, though, I can't think of any more pleasant place to wait around than sunny Manhattan Avenue in late March. In my neighborhood, you can watch the older Polish ladies go about their business, appreciate the subtleties of the 99 cent stores' window displays, and generally check in with the daily activity of the neighborhood while you wait.

Today, for example, the bus was quite late (I also like how you can check the schedule to see how long until the next bus), but the 20 minutes I stood waiting was infinitely better than if I had been standing in the cold, dank tunnel of the G train.

Taking the B61 has also given me a much better understanding of Brooklyn neighborhoods. I like to watch how the streets evolve as the bus goes down Manhattan, through McCarren Park, down Driggs and over to Wythe. It's interesting the proximity of different communities, and who gets on the bus when and who gets off.

Here are some highlights of the scenery from the segment of the B61 route that I frequently travel:
-I like the Sweetleaf Cafe on Jackson Ave, just before the bus turns left over the bridge into Brooklyn
-Traveling over the Pulaski bridge
-As you descend down the bridge, to your right, the final alphabetical streets of Greenpoint I rarely see otherwise: Eagle, Clay, Box, and Ash streets.
-McCarren Park Dog Run and immediately after
-the onion shaped orthodox church
-there is a beautiful iron gate at the stop right after the bus turns onto Wythe -- lots of people always get out here
-Driving by Peter Lugar's restaurant at night and looking in to see all the waitstaff in white shirts and black ties.
-Going under the overpass, looking to the west and seeing the Williamsburg bridge lit up.

It costs $2 for a ride on the B61 plus a free transfer to or from any subway....for now.