Such a different America – New York, USA – Tourist Blog
In America, I began to gather a month for two to the presumptive date of departure. Since the receipt of a visa until the last moment remained a secret, I collected at once two suitcase: one – in America, the other – to the grandmother on the Black Sea. When the long-awaited visa in the new light was finally obtained, a part of things from the suitcase "on the Black Sea" moved to the suitcase "America" in record time. And now the long-awaited moment has come, we took off, and the plane took the course for New York.
New York, New York.
Night York meets its guests more than open: endless streams of cars, sinister silence Harlem, whisper of Brooklyn and the radiance of Time Square. Display all the current stereotypes of America started from the very first day, and for three months of staying at the homeland of Elvis I had my own image of this country. Manhattan in his own heart does not fall asleep, it seems, never: lights of advertising signs, restaurants and clubs, continuous rivers of yellow taxis and crowds of people. But go a little further, for the 113rd street, and another New York will appear to your eyes, such as it is rarely seen by tourists. Drawn barely caught chims from Indian eateries, with shifting streets and shops, illuminated by the dim light of rare shrinking neon signs. The closer to Garlee, the less taxi, and the cars in general. No luxurious limousines of stars, neither cars of respectable citizens. Despite the fact that before the trip, I was strictly setting up not to go to this "malicious" area, I still managed to get lost somewhere nearby.
Stone around the distinguished quarters of New York, losing the bill time and sense of space. Passed over midnight, and only a thin night preacher and homeless left on the empty street, which caught the door of a tiny shop. But despite the atmosphere, it does not have fun in the best Hollywood thrillers, I did not have fear. Although, believe me, young girl in Harlem should be feared much. In the end, an elderly man, dressed as "black" Elvis, brought me to the hostel.
Between heaven and earth
Arriving the next day in the center, I was blinded by the daylight of the city. Manhattan noisy as an anthill. Skyscrapers, from a look at the tops of which neck neck; words in all languages of the world, coming from everywhere; Trays with expensive souvenirs and cheap clock "Rolex", police and white limousines on every corner. I had a little time, and I decided to climb the Empire State Building. From there New York as a palm. Amazing view impresses with scales and scope. Below – Yellow Taxi Rivers. They are moving slowly, and in their almost meditative flow, the fuss of the megalopolis dissolves.
However, my journey should continue far from here, and I go to the bus station to take a ticket to the coast.
Journey to the "gray ps"
GRAYHOUND buses chapped America for many years. Not one generation of adolescents fled from home to California on these "gray psa". To this day it is one of the most common ways to move on the unblocked United States.
A black woman in a strong physique in a leather jacket and sheaf gloves turns out to be the driver of my bus. All the way she entertains passengers with jokes on the loudspeaker. A decade-hour route to the ocean passes in places, with many writers. Corn fields, small roadside snacks and gas stations with parked pickles. The closer to the south, the more often the colonial buildings with columns and wide terraces appear outside the windows.
One-story America
Here, in a small town on the island off the coast of the Atlantic, a completely different life flows measured. The city seemed to consist of three streets departing from the highway. As it turned out later, the streets in the town were exactly the same as the police, namely – seven. I stopped at John Wilson. John – Father of a large family, wife’s breadwinner and seven children. This is a normal practice in the American province. Many living here – believers, every Sunday go to church and are actively involved in charitable programs. North Carolina, the state in which I lived is considered one of the most religious places in the USA. John explained to me that here it is not necessary to be afraid to walk at nights along the deserted streets and talking to strangers.
Once again, driving past the supermarket, we noticed several police cars with flashers. Something happened: robbery, fight, attack? My fantasy could go as if. In fact, the store simply sold alcohol minors. For a small town this event is a special importance, and ******* Sheriff with all seven kopami reacts instantly.
Once I had to talk with the police right on the highway. I was lucky neighbor children from the late church event and a little wieled on the way in search of the right turn. This attracted the attention of the officer, and at his request I slowed down at the side. Contrary to expectations, no international driver’s guards of the order did not require. After I explained my strange ride style, he smiled only sweet and said goodbye: "Be careful".
American hospitality
Once a neighbor, with a neighbor, fascinated by shopping and inspection of local lighthouses, left pretty far from the native "village". Halfway our car began to behave somehow suspiciously. We managed to move to the side of the road, **************** stalled. What to do? The eternal our question stood not long. Already minutes after five in our side, a pickup turned out, such which usually shown in movies on novels Stephen King. "Some problems, lady?"- sparkling asked the bearded driver in a cowboy hat. Do not even listen to our vague explanations, the peasant decisively opened the hood of the car, releaseing a huge smoke club from under him. "Do not worry, ladies, the driver of a pickup driver calmed down, – my brother here is near the store and auto repair shop. Now I will go to him, and we will reach your car ". This is luck! – I thought. Later it turned out that it was not good at all, but the situation is normal for local sites. By the time this cowboy returned with her brother and spare parts, there were already five people around our car, including a police officer, which was reported that someone had problems with the car. As a result, we were successfully successful for a car, and I receded completely for free, and I also got wonderful Cauccino. "You, girls," the policeman told us, – it must be very tired. Come, I will treat you coffee ". In general, we returned homemade and satisfied.
Three months later, I didn’t want to go home. And quiet provincial life, and dawns over the Atlantic, and even New York with his noise and bustle steel for me for me some kind of relatives. And although there, in America, of course, everything is different, the new light is still manitis with its lights of large cities and the soulful’s heart.
