The New York Grapevine, Exploring Bushwick (and a loft too friendly) Bushwick, Brooklyn, Cody Swanson

Exploring Bushwick (and a loft too friendly)
by Cody Swanson
Wednesday, February 3rd, 2010
New York, NY
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My roommate and I are planning to leave Sunset Park, Brooklyn in April for a neighborhood where we are not 20 years younger than everyone else. Williamsburg is out of the question for many reasons, but most importantly because of the price. Greenpoint, just above Williamsburg, a Polish neighborhood with the occasional hot hipster on a bike, is a cheaper possibility but we found it a bit depressing. "East Williamsburg" or what is actually just a part of Bushwick closest to Williamsburg, is way too expensive for what I've found in the past it has to offer: basement rooms with no doors or windows, and the very real and actualized threat of muggings or just plain assaults. So today we ventured further out on the L line to the Halsey stop, and walked our way back.

As we left the subway we pondered following any hipster type we could find to see where they go, to steal their secrets. My roommate and I look the part well enough so I thought we could do it. Instead we got sidetracked by the always impressively numbing array of products at a nearby Food Bazaar grocery. After wandering around, muted by the colors and towering stacked food, we purchased each a bagel for a total of 50 cents and quickly left.

We found a large, old brick building with a painted sign, "Shop World: 150 shops and more than 20 restaurants in one building!" I was very eager to get inside and see this. We walked around the side, found the door, and it was locked. Someone standing inside did the go around to the other side hand gesture, so that's what we did. We ended up walking all the way around the massive block until we were right back where we had started. Oh well.

Doing our best to follow the L train line we ambled down various streets, occasionally seeing a street or subway station that seemed familiar. I like the neighborhoods along these stops. They're filled with delis and ethnic restaurants and homes and little parks. And at only about 12 minutes from the heart of Williamsburg, and another 10 to Union Sq, it's not a bad location for us early 20s artsy white dudes.

Perhaps the strangest part of the night was after we had passed the Dekalb stop and decided to check out a building that said. "Lofts for Rent!" As we walked by the building a middle aged man, Tom, was unpacking things from his car and putting them inside the building entrance. He said a friendly hello and so we stopped to ask what he knew about the building. He said his friend Paul knew more as he had lived there longer, and that he'd be right back. He then told us to start taking things from his car into the building. My roommate and I being, I guess, curious as to the bluntness of this strange trade of services, got to work moving Tom's boxes or random household objects from car to building. After we had helped him empty the car another friend of his, not Paul, came down and talked to Tom and we decided to make our escape then, and just walked away down the street.

"Hey! Don't you guys want to meet Paul? He's upstairs. I thought he would come down but he hasn't. He's changing out of his suit." Tom yelled down to us almost urgently. Well, this is never an offer I would take up alone but my roommate looks as if he could inflict some physical damage if he really wanted to, so we both decide to what-the-hell it. And again, as payment for our passage upstairs to meet Paul the friend, we must carry another box.

We got the third floor and plopped the boxes on the floor of the apartment. Paul, a puffy middle aged man, was there to greet us in a t-shirt and tighty-whities. There are also two other young men, and finally now Tom, all of us standing in this cluttered and cramped loft. "I found another two for ya" Tom says to Paul, "out on the street." This seems so close to disturbing that I just have to assume it's an inside joke and take my mind from any further train of thought.

I inform Paul that my friend and I are hoping to move somewhere along the L line and are just exploring possible options. I glance a little at the apartment but it's hard to see it through all the random junk. Paul asks, "What're you guys doing tonight?" And I say we're just exploring the neighborhood and he seems a little let down that I didn't say, "Nothing, you?". One of the younger guys asks what price range we're looking for because a friend of his just moved out of his place near Halsey. We pretend to ponder the possibility and then thank everyone for letting us see the apartment and bid them farewell. Once we get outside my roommate and I laugh in near hysterical relief.

The rest of the exploration is not as exciting, but it's nice to the point of its purpose. We find an awesome park, Bushwick Park (above), which has some of the most amazing assortments of steel hand drums and other musical instruments I've ever seen at a playground before. This is where I want to move, I decide. We walk to the Morgan L, stopping to buy each a new hat at a seemingly new thrift shop, and take the train to Bedford ave where we eat falafel sandwiches at Oasis. Did I mention that I've been eating a lot of Falafel lately?

The evening was a successful adventure. We got a much better idea of where to move, got new hats, had some tasty food, and got, I guess, hit on by a forty-ish man in snug white underwear. Not bad, Bushwick, not bad.

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Last updated by Cody Swanson - Wednesday, February 3rd, 2010 - New York, NY