The Jersey Shore

Hmm. The Jersey Shore – is that at the mouth of the River Styx? Having made it four hours south of Manhattan in a coach, having braved not only the zoo that is the Port Authority Bus Terminal but also Atlantic City, I can attest that Stone Island, whence I am writing, is far from hell as the New Testament would picture it. However, it is very much a white ghetto of huge houses maintained by Latino and black weekend workers, seven miles of grey-sand beach full of families having summer fun, trinket shops and “spaghetti with red gravy” menus. I’m here playing tennis and drinking wine with my friend Lara, who is herself a guest of family. So basically I’m freeloading and loving it. Last night she and I enjoyed quite a delicious meal of calimari and crab at a place called The Princeton (truly) in the town 20 minutes’ drive from Stone Harbour, where we’re staying. And at $7 per head for a game of tennis, it sure beats Manhattan.

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