Upon arriving at Cold Spring on a balmy October day, I couldn’t wait to explore the renowned village that attracts many New Yorkers, both as a quick get-away destination, as well as a place of permanent residence. At a little over an hour on Metro-North from Manhattan, Cold Spring is situated in Hudson River Valley, which spreads north of New York City and comprises numerous small towns, parks, universities, monuments and remnants of the early industrial US history, all vitally intertwined with the water artery that connects the metropolis to the rest of the state. The railroad line that runs just parallel to the river offers a breathtaking trip through stunning natural landscapes, and through North American history.
(Besides, Cold Spring itself is literally historic: its foundry did not only fuel the country with steam engines and water system pipes but also played a crucial role in the outcome of the Civil War thanks to the cannons it produced.)
I had heard that Cold Spring’s galleries and restaurants were worth visiting, but I couldn’t have imagined the unique way in which the “village” combines the suburban chic with the most fairy-tale-like country quaintness. The dreamy houses with the flawless little gardens transport you somewhere between the Playmobil Far West Town and the “Beautiful Sunday” (Japanese) stationery. Sure, the Main Street cafés are trendy and sell design objects while serving exclusive espressos, but once you turn around the corner, you are awaited by dollhouse-like yards, and you think Grandma Duck will pop out of the window! On top of that, there’s an additional, seasonal layer of quaintness: the Halloween spirit, which I had not planned to seek, and which yet seized me in broad daylight.
In a big part of the Western world, the night of October 31st is dedicated to commemorating all saints as well as all the departed. Though originally Christian, the feast day has incorporated pagan roots and customs of diverse origins, with symbols like skulls, witches and spider webs.
In Greece, the holiday used to be considered “foreign” –prior to globalization, that is, and prior to the immense success of the “Little Kook” café-bar, which sports extravagant Halloween decorations spanning several Athens buildings and streets. Now you can celebrate away Halloween downtown as early as September! My own early associations of the holiday with splatter 1980s blockbusters were appalling. There was, however, a distant but fond memory burning magically: at a central Greece seaside village, together with the kids next door (also Athenian vacationers like ourselves), we came up with the idea to celebrate that “eerie pumpkin Carnival” in the middle of Greek summer. The carving of the pumpkin -culminating in the placement of the lit candle inside!-, had left me enchanted.
Here in Cold Spring, like Alice in Halloween-land, I discover black cats drawn on walls and I bump into skeletons popping up from (fake) graves. But the glossy pumpkins rule, bestowing even more color on the already colorful antique shops and vintage boutiques, as well as on the elegant mansions bordering the forest. Mixed with the red-and-yellow leaves that fall gently but steadily all day long, the landscape comes together into a dazzling whole, bringing forth an essential Halloween aspect: the celebration of harvest and of autumn.
Back to New York, I decide to embark on a post-midnight quest in my neighborhood, Harlem, in order to capture the urban Halloween. The trend here is high-tech spooky lighting designs installed in the (already spectacular) Hamilton Heights townhouses, yet the gigantic spiders climbing the facades steal the picture.
At one building entrance, you are cheerfully greeted by a duo of skeletons, while the (apparently very arts-and-crafts) residents have set up a whole graveyard construction. As I’m taking a picture of the sign that reads “LAST STOP CEMETERY”, I catch from the corner of my eye a man standing on the opposite sidewalk. Not a soul is around, and cars rarely pass from this remote street. I slowly put the phone in my pocket, and start heading to the nearest central street. “Hey!”, I hear the man shout. Trying to exhibit calm, I turn around and pretend to be indifferently looking toward his side. “Come here!”, he yells, waving at me. Within a split second, I make the decision to play dumb: I smile at him, say “Hi!” and keep going the other way. Now I have to walk as fast as I can, but not to run, so that I don’t let my fear show. Breathing deeply, I walk on the actual road, since the sidewalk in this spot is pitch-black. I do not have the courage to turn around to see if the guy has followed me. After a few blocks that seem to me as endless as Hudson River, I reach the noisiest and busiest part of Harlem. The normally repulsive crowdedness and deafening music now seem to me like an oasis. I think in the future I will only take pictures during the day –and only photograph the innocent (?) pumpkins…
This essay first appeared in Greek in the TA NEA newspaper (online) on October 31, 2021.
It was reproduced by HellasJournal.com and by neakriti.gr.
Το κείμενο αυτό πρωτοδημοσιεύτηκε στην εφημερίδα ΤΑ ΝΕΑ (ηλεκτρονική έκδοση) στις 31 Οκτωβρίου 2021.
Αναδημοσιεύτηκε από το HellasJournal.com και από το neakriti.gr.
