At NYC’s Rockaways, an escape and a farewell

In order to say goodbye to New York, writer Chris Dong takes an overnight vacation to the beach and learns a lot about a part of the city he had only considered for day trips.

The sun shines behind a fog. It is just after dawn on a warm, late-spring morning on a narrow stretch of New York City between Jamaica Bay and the Atlantic Ocean.

Two people are out for a walk. After living in Midtown Manhattan for seven years, my neighbors remain anonymous.

New York City is known for the anonymity of a crowded street and the spectacle of a skyscraper but this corner of the city is different.

The Manhattan skyline is just 16 miles to the northwest and feels a world away. City dwellers flock to the subway and ferry to escape the heat.

Over five million people visit the beaches of the Rockaways each year. Between Memorial Day and Labor Day, New Yorkers forget they are in a city on the sea, home to over 14 miles of public beach.

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Beating the crowds

Things are quieter in the early part of the season. I spent the night in the neighborhood instead of rushing to catch the last ferry. A New Yorker for nearly a decade, this overnight experience is one of my last goodbyes before moving to Los Angeles. As I make my way down the boardwalk towards 116th Street, a cup of coffee acts as my hand warmer. The owners of Greenhouse Cafe are not new to the scene.

Claudette Flatow was the matriarch of the Flatow family and their two eateries are named after her. The Flatows have been sharing their talents with the community since 2012 and I take advantage of them whenever I can.

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During my stay on the peninsula, the people that live on the beach are proud of their hometown. Everyone knows each other at Claudette's and other beach communities.

The creation of third- generation Rockaway Beach residents, Terence and Dan Tubridy, was the inspiration for the recently-opened Rockaway Hotel, a 53-room upscale property steps from both the ferry and the beach. The hotel invites local restaurants to participate in their "Dinner and a Band" series.

Waking up in the same city, but in a new place

There is something special about waking up in a new neighborhood that is not your own. The sound of waves hitting sand, the energy of fishermen preparing for a morning at sea, and the quiet conversations of elderly residents on morning walks made me feel more at home.

I spent most of my time at Riis Park Beach before this escape. The daytime vibe is similar to nightlife with sunscreen. It only took a few visits to create a routine: find a spot on the sand with friends, watch the day disappear, make a quick pit stop for afternoon fish taco at tacoway beach, catch the ferry back to the city.

When I wake up on Sunday morning, I walk past the dunes and watch surfers take their positions along the coast, eager to find that magic carpet ride to shore. A Delta jet takes off from JFK and flies over 90th Street.

It feels like I live here to see this place before the daytrippers show up.

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Experiencing a place as a local 

The deep roots of community are found in the Rockaways.

For dinner, my friends and I eat at an Italian restaurant that has become something of a Rockaways institution in just a few years. It is the type of place that could be used for a jazz club, sports bar, and even a Burlesque venue.

The menu features dishes like a burger and a salad. The people seem to know each other. A drunk regular dances next to the bar while the waitress reads out specials at our table.

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A goodbye to a place that I’ve called home

I travel down the boardwalk before I return to Manhattan. It is done by bike. I have to dodge drivers who think they own the road when I'm back in Midtown.

There is a sense of abandonment on the boardwalk. The seat on my beach cruiser is too low for me. The sea breeze is strong instead of the car exhaust. Instead of focusing on the path ahead, I look over at another plane.

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This place is still very much New York City, even when I feel like vanishing into the kind of half- dream state brought about by beach towns. The A train that stops at Penn Station is on the elevated tracks to my left. I hear the screeching of an MTA bus as I listen to the call and response of seagulls.

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The sun peeks out from behind the clouds after an overcast weekend. Warmth, light and endless blue sky are some of the things that made me decide to relocate to Los Angeles. I came here to farewell. It was New York that reminded me of how magic it is when the sun shines.