cappuccino?" "Sure," I replied, so we found a restaurant with small round tables set out on the sidewalk. We sipped our cappuccino and watched the world go by.
"It's sort of like eating at a cafe in Paris," I said, and Richie grinned.
By the end of the day, I was exhausted, and I thought Richie's foot was going to fall off. We had sampled Indian food at a tiny restaurant in the East Village. We had wandered through the maze of little streets in the West Village. (Once, Richie got lost.) We even took the subway to Chinatown. When I told Richie I'd already been there, he said, "Well, have you been to Little Italy?" "No." We walked, like, two blocks and found ourselves in a world of Italian restaurants. A street fair was in progress and Richie urged me to sample a cannoli, even though it was filled with sugar. Hard to believe that just a few blocks away were Chinese restaurants, egg rolls, pagoda-shaped phone booths. . . .
"What do you think of the city?" Richie asked when we were finally heading home, our stomachs stuffed.
"It's full of food," I replied.
Richie laughed. "No, really. What did you think?" "It's amazing. I've never seen it this way." "I know. You've seen Central Park, the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, the World Trade Center, right?" "Right," I agreed. "And those were fun experiences. But you're the best tour guide I've ever had." I realized that I had not been scared once all day.
Mary Anne.
Chapter 17.
O had never been to South Street Seaport and I was dying to see it. It's an area in lower Manhattan that during the 1800s was known as the "Street of Ships." It was the shipping hub of the city, a busy place, swarming with seamen, merchants, and immigrants, and a harbor crowded with all kinds of sailing vessels. Over the years, the seaport deteriorated, but it has now been restored and is an area of museums, restaurants, and shops contained in waterfront buildings from the 19th century. There are things to see: street performers and fabulous ships, as well as plenty of special events such as fireworks. You can go to the seaport to eat and shop, or you can go there to discover history.
Discovering history was what I had in mind when I suggested to Stacey that we take Alistaire and Rowena to South Street Seaport on Monday. Stacey thought that was a great idea. (Even she had only been there a couple of times, and she wanted to go back.) Then the rest of our friends decided that they wanted to come with us. Mal and Claudia couldn't, though, because of their art classes.
"I wish Mr. Clarke would let me go with you and sketch ships, but we're probably going to have to do something like draw a statue for eight hours," said Claudia grumpily.
"Oh, chilly!" exclaimed Mallory.
Claudia glared at her so fiercely I thought flames would shoot from her eyes.
Anyway, in the end, Stacey and I, Alistaire and Rowena, and Kristy, Laine, Jessi, and Dawn traveled downtown to the seaport.
"Cool!" I cried as we stood on Fulton Street and looked around. We could have been transported to another century — except that the people were wearing blue jeans or leggings, black cowboy boots, silly T-shirts, and these green foam Statue of Liberty souvenir headdresses. On one side of us was Schermerhorn Row, an old-looking building with tall chimneys and lots of windows. Across from it stood the Fulton Market Building.
"Hey, a craft collection!" said Laine.
"A Laura Ashley store!" said Dawn.
"The Athletes Foot!" said Kristy.
"The Body Shop!" said Jessi.
"World of Nintendo!" shrieked Alistaire.
"I wonder where Benetton is," said Stacey.
"Isn't there a toy store?" asked Rowena.
"Oh, no. It's the guy in the hat," I whispered to Stacey.
"What?" "Shhh! Don't scare anyone." "Well, where is he?" "He's right over there by ... Well, he was right next to that trash can." "Are you sure?" "Positive." Stacey looked worried. But finally she just said, "He's gone now. Let's try to have fun. I wonder if we can find a toy store for Rowena." "We should
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