It was just another one of those weekends when Ian and I had nothing on the books, but our need to leave the city was overwhelming. Adventure, or something like it, was calling.
Hudson, NY is by no means an exotic getaway, but it promised some respite from the urban grind. Just two hours via Amtrak from Penn Station, we both knew nothing about it except the direction we needed to head: North. Oh, and rumblings that Hudson and the surrounding region are the “new Brooklyn,” whatever that means.
We traded a sky that threatened rain for the verdant expanse of the Hudson River Valley. The train ride up was pleasant enough, made all the more pleasant with gentle pop of a Matthiasson rosé, as crisp as the sky we traveled under. Between sips of wine and glances of the sweeping views, we were lulled into many micro catnaps, arriving at our destination just in time for lunch, rested AF.
The red train station greeted us as we began a short walk to Warren Street, the main drag. The area is marked with hundreds of historic homes, pretty-faced Federals and Victorians lining the quaint thoroughfare. A bevy of galleries, antique shops and small businesses are tucked into ground floor commercial spaces, offering up wares to the city folks who trek out of the way for deals and art that, in the city, would cost a month’s wages.
Ever watch Gilmore Girls? Yeah, Hudson is basically Stars Hollow. Young families strolled the streets, nursing melting ice cream cones from the scoop shop, Lick. Folks ducked into storefronts, greeted by proprietors at the door. Strangers smiled at strangers. It was all some kind of charming.