It was our own hideout for the year 2014.  Not like the Alhambra, which existed for a time as an abandoned, magnificent shelter for vagrants with dreamy souls. Nor like Rudyard Kipling’s Naulakha in Vermont—a place for gypsy wanderers to sit awhile until The Landmark Trust restored it and took control of who sleeps inside the storied home.

Our hideout was a hotel, near the seductive whirls and whams of Manhattan. We found it when our son moved to Greenpoint, Brooklyn. (All gypsy parents camp out as close as possible to their gypsy babies.)

The hotel charges us just over $150 per night, including taxes! We park our car, nearby, on the street—for FREE. There is a robust and adequate breakfast in the morning. A lovely shuttle ferries us to the 7 train which delivers us in no time to Grand Central Station and beyond. (During our most recent visit, the cheerful man who drove the van had really good tunes playing.) Upon our return, (unless we are very late), the shuttle is there waiting to take us back to our room. Our rooms have been known to feature a king bed, a whirlpool tub, and a view of Manhattan that rises along the horizon, complementing the industrial meadows lining the East River. The gypsy souls that join us in our hideout come in all colors and speak many languages. They have beautiful children—families, traveling together, to play in one of the greatest amusement parks in the world.

New York City—we need a place to bunk down for a day or two when we go. The financial toll can leave you feeling mugged and bedraggled, but New York City might forever remain the most confusing mindtrip we can’t quit.

Long Island City, Queens, New York. Today I read a little paragraph in the New York Times that revealed the location of our hideout as the go-to place for cheap lodging in New York City.

Gypsy Grit. Endangered.