Believe it or not, there are actually still unexplored parts of Manhattan, and we're not just talking about Washington Heights. NYC-based artist Matthew Jensen is photographing the "nowhere" spots, places that are not built up at all and are not designated parks. Not all of these places are lush landscapes. Most are abandoned buildings and overgrown plots of land. But there are some untouched scenic spots, which serve as a reminder that even in a city as overdeveloped as New York, there can still be untapped treasures. So go out and explore the rest of Manhattan, but be quiet about it. The last thing we need is to see another Times Square sitting on the landscape above in ten years.
Thursday
Can This Really Be Manhattan?
Believe it or not, there are actually still unexplored parts of Manhattan, and we're not just talking about Washington Heights. NYC-based artist Matthew Jensen is photographing the "nowhere" spots, places that are not built up at all and are not designated parks. Not all of these places are lush landscapes. Most are abandoned buildings and overgrown plots of land. But there are some untouched scenic spots, which serve as a reminder that even in a city as overdeveloped as New York, there can still be untapped treasures. So go out and explore the rest of Manhattan, but be quiet about it. The last thing we need is to see another Times Square sitting on the landscape above in ten years.
Portrait of the Big Apple
Sometimes you can go weeks in this city without recognizing anyone you pass on the streets. Perhaps this shouldn't be too surprising given how many millions of people live in New York and how many more pass through here every day. But you don't really start to feel a part of a community until you get to know the people. Luckily, one artist has taken on the incredible task of drawing every single person in New York. He sketches in the subways, museums and in Taco Bell and is on the verge of creating the most comprehensive catalog of New Yorkers ever. We can finally get to know all our neighbors. Look through his blog and maybe you'll even find yourself.
A Little of Everything
New York is by far the most multicultural place in the world. Queens alone has more variety than the rest of the Western Hemisphere. So it should be no surprise that this city offers some of the best ethnic cuisine on the planet. With so much variety though, it can be hard to figure out where to start. We asked our resident food expert, Angelica, to put together a short list of some of the best exotic restaurants in New York. Put down that cheeseburger for two minutes and read this:
La Portena
Argentinean
This excellent restaurant in Jackson Heights is very authentic to its ethnic roots. The restaurant has a very classy, yet comfortable ambiance. The people working there are extra sweet, and the food is unbeatable. I recommend any of their salads, especially the Russian Salad, which comes with potato, carrots, peas and mayonnaise. If you're craving something meatier, their Skirt Steak is tender, juicy and well seasoned with a perfect little complementary sauce. To die for!
Jardin de China
Chinese and Spanish
A Chinese restaurant where the servers speak Spanish? Cultural meshing like that only happens in New York. I've been eating at this restaurant in Corona since I was a little girl and it still hasn't lost its charm. There are an endless amount of tasty well-priced combinations. There's the boneless crackling chicken with rice and platanos if you're in the mood for something Spanish or the beef and pepper steak if you're leaning towards Chinese. And if you can't make up your mind, try the sesame chicken with rice and beans. The possibilities are endless.
Pollos A la Brasa Mario
Colombian
This joint, also located in Jackson Heights, offers big affordable portions of the best Colombian food you'll find anywhere in New York. The dishes are always exactly what you ask for, nothing more, nothing less. I recommend trying the Bandeja Tipica. It's grilled steak with rice, beans, plantains and some delicious crackling pork. Even if you've never eaten Colombian food, it will hit the spot. Best of all, it's open 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
Caridad Restaurante
Dominican
This hole in the wall on the Upper West Side offers great cheap food. Get a whole chicken with rice and beans for just ten dollars. But the real bargain are the lunch specials, which cost all of $7. There's something here for every meal of the day. Start your mornings right with some Mangu (mashed plantains). For lunch grab the scrumptious Cuban sandwich. Finish your day with one of the daily specials. I recommend the stewed oxtail. But if that sounds too exotic, stick with the whole chicken. Then start all over again the next day.
Got a recommendation for the best NYC ethnic cuisine? Leave a comment here or e-mail us at losersguidenyc@gmail.com
Meeting People Can Be Easy
It's hard for a loser to meet people in any city, but in New York, forget about it. The good bars are too loud and crowded to make a move and, as our Cassanova Correspondant, Varun, reported previously, the subway system seems to be built to prevent flirtation.That's why we are excited to read about a small bar that provides a safe zone for meeting people one night a week. Every Friday night, the Big Six Lounge on the Bowery hosts an hour of free jello shots and conversation. Employees at the bar will take the initiative to introduce you around to everyone at the bar. It's like a singles night where you don't have to come up with an opening line (though you will need to say something eventually). What do you have to lose? Everyone is there to meet people like you. Worst case scenario: you just get free jello shots and go somewhere else.
You Think Our Subways Are Complicated?
New Yorkers have a tendency to think in hyperboles. We have the fastest walkers, the best pizza and the sleaziest ex-governor. Some may also believe we have the most intricate subway system on the planet. But wait until you see the competition. Just compare our system to Tokyo's, which mixes public and private transit networks, and you'll never complain about the MTA again:
For more crazy transit maps, check out Treehugger.com
For more crazy transit maps, check out Treehugger.com
Strangest NYC Job of the Week
Pest Control Technicians Needed/No Experience Necessary/We Train!*The Pest Control Service Technicians responsibilities are to service commercial accounts for pest problems, in a manner that reduces call-back’s from our customers. An ideal applicant would be someone who is not afraid to get dusty, dirty, greasy, or grimy during their route. Pest Control Service Technicians on a daily/nightly basis must kneel, bend, reach, and crawl to inspect, modify, and treat structures.
*Technicians work typically both indoors and out, in all weather conditions, which may be extremely hot or extremely cold at times. During hot weather, Technicians must be comfortable wearing heavy protective gear; such as respirators, gloves, and goggles. During cold weather, Technicians must be able to withstand cold/frigid temperatures for long periods of time.
*At times you will be required to travel far distances to service an account. Some stops that you will be sent to will not be easy to park at so; we are looking for someone who is patient and willing to spend the time necessary to plan ahead, find legal parking, be on time, do a good job and leave a good impression of themselves and of the company.
*This position is physically demanding and we are looking for a future Service Technician who can dedicate their time to doing the job right. We are only looking for individuals who are on time, friendly, polite, honest, hardworking and have a positive attitude. If you are always late, or are lazy, have a chip on your shoulder, or are looking for a job where you are paid to sleep, do very little and simply go through the motions just to get paid then, this is NOT the job for you! We are only looking for organized, neat and clean individuals. If you are sloppily dressed or have a lackluster work ethic please do NOT apply to this position!
For the original link, go here.
Saturday
Catch In the Subway
Our Junior Correspondent, Seth, gets in touch with his childish side for this report on how one kid can change the dynamic of an entire subway car, at least for a little while.
On a recent Friday, I got on the 3 train at 125th street. The car was mostly empty, but quickly filled up as we sped farther downtown. Commuters in business casual attire started filing in at 96th street. By 72nd street, the car was crowded with tourists as well as college kids ready for a night of drinking.
A black child with corn rows, no older than 5 or 6, sat beside his mother near the doors. He had a bright orange ball in his hand, the size of a softball. After looking at her for approval, he started to toss the ball up and down, but the combination of a poor throwing arm and a ton of subway obstacles caused the ball to go spiraling away from him each time.
On any other day of the week, this would most likely enrage half the subway car. Tired men in business suits would have scowled at the boy and his mother for interrupting their long commute; couples would think his playfulness cute at first, but the noisy kid and his intrusive ball would slowly eat away at them until someone would whisper too loudly that the kid needed to be controlled, and the mother would grab him and leave at the next stop. But not on Friday, with the weekend and all its possibilities within arm's reach.
One by one, everyone within 10 feet of the boy found themselves playing catch with him. It started with an older man in a polo shirt sitting in the next seat. Each time the boy tossed the ball up, the man would try to intercept it and, if successful, would then try to fake the boy out. Then the game spread. The boy threw the ball at a man leaning against the pole, who looked like an Abercrombie Model. Good looking people don't always have good reflexes but this guy did. Pretty soon, he was fully engaged in the game of catch, flashing a smile so white it made the subway car look clean.
The game kept spreading outward, to a college couple across the aisle. The man seemed shy but each time he caught the ball, he grinned at his sharp nosed girl and she stared proudly back at him. Another middle aged man stared longingly at the game, perhaps wanting to get back to his own son to play, perhaps just eager to get involved in these subway antics. After a long while, the ball finally approached him and he fumbled it, dropping it to the floor. He tossed it back quickly and resumed watching.
The game raged on for several subway stops. Everyone in the car watched and clapped whenever the boy made a catch, and laughed when he dropped the ball, like a room full of amused parents. But the game did not spread to everyone. The ball hit a black man once in the head and once on the shoulder. He had a cap pulled low over his eyes and refused to acknowledge either incident. The ball wizzed by two girls absorbed with their cell phones, even though their phones had no signals underground. The ball landed in front of a man with his eyes closed, head back, listening to his iPod. He did not budge.
Finally, the boy and his mother got out at 34th street. The rest of the game's star players exited over the next couple stops and the subway car gradually quieted down, everyone now ready and waiting to arrive at their destinations.
On a recent Friday, I got on the 3 train at 125th street. The car was mostly empty, but quickly filled up as we sped farther downtown. Commuters in business casual attire started filing in at 96th street. By 72nd street, the car was crowded with tourists as well as college kids ready for a night of drinking.A black child with corn rows, no older than 5 or 6, sat beside his mother near the doors. He had a bright orange ball in his hand, the size of a softball. After looking at her for approval, he started to toss the ball up and down, but the combination of a poor throwing arm and a ton of subway obstacles caused the ball to go spiraling away from him each time.
On any other day of the week, this would most likely enrage half the subway car. Tired men in business suits would have scowled at the boy and his mother for interrupting their long commute; couples would think his playfulness cute at first, but the noisy kid and his intrusive ball would slowly eat away at them until someone would whisper too loudly that the kid needed to be controlled, and the mother would grab him and leave at the next stop. But not on Friday, with the weekend and all its possibilities within arm's reach.
One by one, everyone within 10 feet of the boy found themselves playing catch with him. It started with an older man in a polo shirt sitting in the next seat. Each time the boy tossed the ball up, the man would try to intercept it and, if successful, would then try to fake the boy out. Then the game spread. The boy threw the ball at a man leaning against the pole, who looked like an Abercrombie Model. Good looking people don't always have good reflexes but this guy did. Pretty soon, he was fully engaged in the game of catch, flashing a smile so white it made the subway car look clean.
The game kept spreading outward, to a college couple across the aisle. The man seemed shy but each time he caught the ball, he grinned at his sharp nosed girl and she stared proudly back at him. Another middle aged man stared longingly at the game, perhaps wanting to get back to his own son to play, perhaps just eager to get involved in these subway antics. After a long while, the ball finally approached him and he fumbled it, dropping it to the floor. He tossed it back quickly and resumed watching.
The game raged on for several subway stops. Everyone in the car watched and clapped whenever the boy made a catch, and laughed when he dropped the ball, like a room full of amused parents. But the game did not spread to everyone. The ball hit a black man once in the head and once on the shoulder. He had a cap pulled low over his eyes and refused to acknowledge either incident. The ball wizzed by two girls absorbed with their cell phones, even though their phones had no signals underground. The ball landed in front of a man with his eyes closed, head back, listening to his iPod. He did not budge.
Finally, the boy and his mother got out at 34th street. The rest of the game's star players exited over the next couple stops and the subway car gradually quieted down, everyone now ready and waiting to arrive at their destinations.
Wednesday
Random Advice from A Free NYC Enthusiast
Given how expensive New York can be, it's understandable that many of us are on the lookout for free things. We've gotten free bar food, iPod accessories, movie screenings, leftover furniture and we are regular suckers for wine tastings. But not everything that's free is good, and there is one free thing in particular that you should avoid at all costs: Free Art Shows at the Mormon Church. It may sound like a decent idea at first. Who doesn't like art? And who cares if it's religious, isn't most good art religious? And, of course, it's free! But trust us, once they get you inside that Church, you'll have to fight your way out. So if you want a good free art show, just go to the Moma on Fridays instead.
My Morning Adventures
Our overworked freelancer, Varun, takes a minute to appreciate the joys of his morning commute.
Every morning on my commute to work, I have the great fortune of walking through central Harlem, from Lenox Avenue to St. Nicholas. In New York, little every day practices like the trek to work bring a sense of familiarity that help make an otherwise foreboding city seem like home. For me, the 10 minute walk to the A train is rarely unpleasant, sometimes educational, and always entertaining. This morning was no exception.
During the first few blocks of my journey, I encountered the usual cast of characters, like a scene from the iconic Spike Lee joint, "Do the Right Thing". On 128th and Lenox was Harlem’s resident sage, an old, seemingly homeless man armed with colorful sidewalk chalk which he uses to create powerful messages to the youth like “Your mind is a treasure chest -- and a book is the key!”. On 126th, I get my morning musical fix from the man who plays swinging jazz tunes on his keyboard religiously every day (when it’s not raining).
Then, there is the military man who patrols the streets every day on the corner of 125th and Lenox in the same set of army fatigues, carrying a pair of binoculars to keep a close eye on the city. As I approach the Apollo Theater, I see another familiar face; a girl who commutes in the opposite direction at approximately the same time as me every day (depending on where our paths cross along 125th, I can figure out how late I am for work).
The death of Micheal Jackson has brought even more intrigue to this area around the Apollo in the form of well-wishers, mourners, and opportunists. And this morning, as I passed the makeshift memorial and the vendors hawking MJ memorabilia and blasting his tracks from their jam boxes, I caught a glimpse of a new sight that was so good I felt I needed to share it with you all: Heading toward me by the corner of 125th and Frederick Douglass was an older women walking with a cane. She had a big belly, but was definitely too old to be pregnant, yet on her t-shirt she scrawled in blue marker: “Micheal’s Baby in my Belly”. I’m assuming she was referring to the recently departed King of Pop, making this possibly one of the most bizarre tributes to the man, and certainly one of the most disturbing. It was just further proof that Harlem is one of the best places to be for a fascinating morning stroll.
Every morning on my commute to work, I have the great fortune of walking through central Harlem, from Lenox Avenue to St. Nicholas. In New York, little every day practices like the trek to work bring a sense of familiarity that help make an otherwise foreboding city seem like home. For me, the 10 minute walk to the A train is rarely unpleasant, sometimes educational, and always entertaining. This morning was no exception.During the first few blocks of my journey, I encountered the usual cast of characters, like a scene from the iconic Spike Lee joint, "Do the Right Thing". On 128th and Lenox was Harlem’s resident sage, an old, seemingly homeless man armed with colorful sidewalk chalk which he uses to create powerful messages to the youth like “Your mind is a treasure chest -- and a book is the key!”. On 126th, I get my morning musical fix from the man who plays swinging jazz tunes on his keyboard religiously every day (when it’s not raining).
Then, there is the military man who patrols the streets every day on the corner of 125th and Lenox in the same set of army fatigues, carrying a pair of binoculars to keep a close eye on the city. As I approach the Apollo Theater, I see another familiar face; a girl who commutes in the opposite direction at approximately the same time as me every day (depending on where our paths cross along 125th, I can figure out how late I am for work).
The death of Micheal Jackson has brought even more intrigue to this area around the Apollo in the form of well-wishers, mourners, and opportunists. And this morning, as I passed the makeshift memorial and the vendors hawking MJ memorabilia and blasting his tracks from their jam boxes, I caught a glimpse of a new sight that was so good I felt I needed to share it with you all: Heading toward me by the corner of 125th and Frederick Douglass was an older women walking with a cane. She had a big belly, but was definitely too old to be pregnant, yet on her t-shirt she scrawled in blue marker: “Micheal’s Baby in my Belly”. I’m assuming she was referring to the recently departed King of Pop, making this possibly one of the most bizarre tributes to the man, and certainly one of the most disturbing. It was just further proof that Harlem is one of the best places to be for a fascinating morning stroll.
Looking for Friends
Jennifer Aniston saw me standing on Greenwich Street at Kim's cleaners picking up my boss' laundry. She seemed interested in the coffee I was drinking and the UPS lady I was chatting with. I think she wanted to join us, away from the paparazzi and her look-a-like companion. I could tell we had a connection - both of us are New Yorkers just trying to meet people. Too bad she was sucked up into a big black SUV before we could chat.- Claire
Strangest NYC Job of the Week
$300 for Your Before (Geek) to After (Stud) PhotosAre you a party animal? Do you have pictures of you with lots of hot women? Can you take a really geeky photo of yourself to show a before picture? If you can, we can compensate you $300 for a set of your photos. We are a need "Before" and "After" photos for a Fashion/ Style for Men instructional website. Similar to VH-1's Pick Up Artist or Beauty & The Geek type of show of what not to do or wear.
Please send multiple shots of you as Before as the Geek, after as the life of the party with hot women around you, etc. These photos must be of you and you will need to sign a model release with proof of ID in order for us to be able to use them.
Click here for the original link if you're interested.
Sunday
The Fourth of July
The Loser's Guide would like to wish everyone a happy Independence Day weekend! Like many New Yorkers, we celebrated by watching the fireworks. NYC doesn't mess around - it was the biggest fireworks display in the country, with 22 tons of pyrotechnics exploding over the Hudson. And for the first time since September 11th, the fireworks returned to the West Side of Manhattan. (Yes, that means New Jersey got to mooch off our show). The West Side Highway was closed off to car traffic and hundreds of thousands of people flooded the road for dozens of blocks.We were just north of 72nd street when the show started. For the first ten minutes, the fireworks display was unreasonably far downtown and near impossible to see clearly. The crowd's American spirit was quickly replaced by the New York spirit of impatience and aggravation. A few people in the crowd started to walk away; others were grumbling over the city's horrible planning. Then, a wave of fireworks exploded their way farther uptown, reaching the 50's. The crowd was pacified. For the next half an hour, New Yorkers cast aside their apathetic spirit and allowed themselves a few Oooo's and Aaaah's.
Thursday
Missed Connections
Our senior love guru, Varun, looks for romance underground. Here is his report:
I pose this question to the masses: Is there a way to approach a girl on the subway without simultaneously looking like a really big creep?
The subway, like nearly all of New York City's public venues, is ironically and unfortunately a zone of minimal social interaction. For some reason, all conversation, eye contact, and (god forbid!) physical contact just aren’t kosher among strangers in the city. How then are we to make a connection, to form new relationships, or simply to meet new people?
The subway presents a classic example of this urban social hurdle. Picture this: You are on a downtown A train sitting across from a very pretty girl. You like the way she dresses and carries herself, and you wish you could get to know her better. Do you try to call out to her from across the aisle? No way. She could never hear you unless you shout, which would appear overly aggressive and end in disaster. Do you try to sit next to her (if there even is an open spot, which there never is)? No that would be coming on way too strong. Nobody switches seats unless somebody just puked in the seat next to you. Do you get up and stand in the spot in front of her? Clearly not, as that would align your crotch with her head and just be terribly awkward for all parties involved.
And even if you tried any of these moves, what would you then say? “Hey uhh…I like your skirt…”?? Or how about “Oh I see you’re reading that Obama book….did you know he’s our president now…?” On top of that, any conversation would be extremely time sensitive and frighteningly public, and when you reach the next stop, who knows how the seating arrangements will change! The stress alone could paralyze you!
Alas, I would contend that it is next to impossible to make a positive and lasting first impression on someone in the subway. But thankfully, I’m not alone in this struggle. Resourceful Craigslist users have adopted the legendary online forum to create a sort of lost and found for underground love. On the Missed Connections page, city dwellers can put up a post describing that special gal or guy that they totally would have approached had the situation been more amenable. The hope is that the object of their affection will rush to Craigslist and see their description, and a proper connection can be made. Better late than never.
Some of the entries are very creepy, but here is one of the more amusing posts from Missed Connections:
I pose this question to the masses: Is there a way to approach a girl on the subway without simultaneously looking like a really big creep?The subway, like nearly all of New York City's public venues, is ironically and unfortunately a zone of minimal social interaction. For some reason, all conversation, eye contact, and (god forbid!) physical contact just aren’t kosher among strangers in the city. How then are we to make a connection, to form new relationships, or simply to meet new people?
The subway presents a classic example of this urban social hurdle. Picture this: You are on a downtown A train sitting across from a very pretty girl. You like the way she dresses and carries herself, and you wish you could get to know her better. Do you try to call out to her from across the aisle? No way. She could never hear you unless you shout, which would appear overly aggressive and end in disaster. Do you try to sit next to her (if there even is an open spot, which there never is)? No that would be coming on way too strong. Nobody switches seats unless somebody just puked in the seat next to you. Do you get up and stand in the spot in front of her? Clearly not, as that would align your crotch with her head and just be terribly awkward for all parties involved.
And even if you tried any of these moves, what would you then say? “Hey uhh…I like your skirt…”?? Or how about “Oh I see you’re reading that Obama book….did you know he’s our president now…?” On top of that, any conversation would be extremely time sensitive and frighteningly public, and when you reach the next stop, who knows how the seating arrangements will change! The stress alone could paralyze you!
Alas, I would contend that it is next to impossible to make a positive and lasting first impression on someone in the subway. But thankfully, I’m not alone in this struggle. Resourceful Craigslist users have adopted the legendary online forum to create a sort of lost and found for underground love. On the Missed Connections page, city dwellers can put up a post describing that special gal or guy that they totally would have approached had the situation been more amenable. The hope is that the object of their affection will rush to Craigslist and see their description, and a proper connection can be made. Better late than never.
Some of the entries are very creepy, but here is one of the more amusing posts from Missed Connections:
I'M SHY BUT U SHOULD READ THIS. PLEASE I'M SERIOUS. - w4m - 27 (MY PARENT'S PLACE)
It's so funny. I keep thinking about you and your sterile jars. You had a baker's dozen of them. Each one contained a small rodent like creature with deep set eyes and ears of silk. As the subway doors opened you turned a cartwheel. It wasn't your stop, but it was mine. I got off the train thinking I should have totally said something.
Location: MY PARENT'S PLACE
Obama Endorses..
Deli Meats. Unlike Obama's previous endorsement of winter clothing (we've only seen him strip down, never add layers), this endorsement actually makes sense to us. Think about it: the man has already made two well-publicized trips to burger places. He clearly likes a good piece of meat between bread, so why not the Obama Deli? However, this deli is located in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn, so it may be a while yet before the President makes the trek to sample their food. If you see a place, send it to us at losersguidenyc@gmail.comFor Anyone Who Thinks Washington Heights Is Far North
New York City is an exciting place to live but we all have dreams of going on an adventure once in a while (and we don't just mean going to China Town). That's why we are excited by the newly created blog, The Last Frontier Girls, which features several friends of the Loser's Guide on their road trip to the northernmost stop on the American highway: Homer, Alaska. On the way, they drive through small towns in Canada and Alaska, like Chicken (population of 8), panning for gold, gambling in the early afternoon, watching midnight baseball games in broad daylight and other general merriment that can only be found in the Great North. Here is an excerpt from their last day in Canada before crossing back into the United States via the more low-key Alaskan border. For more on their exciting trip, check out their blog: thelastfrontiergirls.blogspot.comWe got off to a bit of a later start the morning after our gambling/golfing/salooning adventure as can probably be expected. We had planned to cross the border early, putting the chapter of strange Yukon towns and cute Canadian accents behind us; however, we decided to take one last ferry ride over the river to say our final good-byes (ok really just to get food). Lucky for us it turned out to be First Nation Day and we soaked up some sun while enjoying free fried dough and watching little kids trying to jig. A note here, it became obvious that my unique style of dance can now be categorized as children trying to jig. Pressley, one of the young jiggers, seemed to be too preoccupied with his cookie to jig, clearly he was our favorite.Read the rest of this post here.
During this time I found $2.50 Canadian money and reasoned (quite logically I think) that the only thing to do with it was to head back to the casino. We waited until 2 p.m. when the casino opened and were the first ones there along with the serious gamblers. We deposited the quarters into what was once thought of by us as a free money machine and our quarters were lost in the endless abyss, reunited with the quarters we had deposited the previous night in what I can only imagine as some giant quarter orgy.
Anyway, soon enough we were off along the dirt road aptly named Top of the World Highway. Because of the winding dirt roads it took far longer than usual to cross the short distance, but at last we approached the flapping American flag. The border consisted of a single dirt road passing a small wooden cabin and a single customs officer. We were home, or at least somewhere where we could no longer respond to the question where are you from with, “The States.”
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