Thomas Breathnach kicks back in New Jersey and revisits the haunts of his J1 student days
I was in a New Jersey state of mind. Over four college summers, I’d worked in the Garden State, serving the bold and beautiful of the Jersey Shore their daily fix of iced teas and Americanos. Yet any mention of my J1 glory days to an American from outside the state and I always got the same sure-fire response: “Why would you go to New Jersey?!”
But beyond the gritty cliches of industrial zones and mega highways, Jersey, to me, had always been an addictive coastal escape of colonial towns, wildlife rich wetlands and the hedonistic resort of Atlantic City. So, 10 years after my first visit, I was going back to my formerboardwalk empire for one more roll of its dice.
My return journey began on a sweltering morning in New York on a Greyhound bus bound for Atlantic City. Viv, my travelling companion, and I reclined back in air-conned comfort, sandwiched by blue-rinsed day-trippers keen to make the discount casino buffets for lunchtime.
As the iconic skyline of Manhattan faded behind us, before long, familiar landmarks of New Jersey provided an instant pop-culture fix, with highway exits for Asbury Park (‘The Boss’), Elizabeth (‘The Sopranos’) and Seaside Heights (‘Jersey Shore’) panning by.
A two-hour sprint later, the ocean-sprayed casino towers of Atlantic City came into view. The deceptively tiny city of just 40,000 residents is a real-estate cocktail of ramshackled neighbourhoods, elegant townhouses and high-end boulevards lined with Hugo Boss and Tiffany outlets.
This town, which inspired the original Monopoly board, may have failed to match Vegas in the popularity stakes, but recent developments point towards the resort’s rebranded ambitions as a fashionable city getaway.
The flagship of these is the gleaming Borgata — a billion- dollar casino hotel, complete with a trendy, adults-only Waterpark which attracts limo-loads of young revellers from New York and Philly each weekend.
Thanks to a generous upgrade, we checked into the super swanky VIP suite at the Sheraton. At $1,500 (€1,150) per night (small change to what I would be trousering from Donald Trump on the roulette tables later), the room came with splendid wraparound panoramas of Caesars, Trump Plaza and the expressway below, shimmering with the red tail-lights of jackpot hunters.
To dive straight into the Jersey Shore buzz, we headed to Gardner’s Basin marina to catch a boat-ride-cum-booze-cruise along the Atlantic County coast (atlanticcitycruises.com; $34/€25). Iced teas and strawberry daiquiris in hand, we tugged off from a harbour dotted with buzzing surf-and-turf restaurants.
Nearby Brigantine was like a scene straight from an MTV beach party, where 4X4s lined up along a packed strand of surfers and sun worshippers. Further up the coast, however, Jersey revealed lonesome strips of sandy beach, dunes and marshes teeming with birdlife. “Now this is how the East Coast would have looked when Columbus came,” our captain Mike told us.
The state is also home to America’s northernmost family of dolphins, and, despite strict instructions from our commander to stick to one side of our boat, our first glimpse of these friendly bottlenoses sent us into a Flipper free-for-all. “Shaniqua! Did you see that?” a mom hollered, as our vessel rolled in the tide.
That evening, we ate at Wolfgang Puck’s American Grille back at the Borgata. An Austrian-American touted as one of the world’s best chefs, Wolfgang is said to have done for American nouvelle cuisine what Arnold Schwarzenegger did for the action-film genre.
And arguably he has. In his bustling Devil’s Kitchen dining room, we sampled a divine spread of local scallops and Maryland crab-cakes — sublime seafood, even if Wolfgang had to cast his net out of state to get it.
The next morning, we hired a car (avis.com; $50/€38) and spun down the Cape May peninsula to drop into some of America’s oldest seaside resorts. Once off the hectic highways, Jersey’s coastal roads crossed a series of scenic barrier islands where motorists yield to little more than an occasional turtle crossing.
Here in my old student stomping ground of Sea Isle City, I reminisced on finding a monstrous condo at the site of my old rickety beach house, but the tradition of Irish under-grads coming to town for summer seems to have been replaced by a new wave of young Russians.
From Ocean City, Whale Beach and Avalon, we cruised south to the tip of the peninsula until Cape Point lighthouse peeped across the swells to Delaware. In Cape May city, we wandered around the postcard shop fronts of Washington Street Mall, brimming with sun-kissed shoobies (holidaymakers). More than 600 period Victorian buildings, with gingerbread trims and ornate verandas, lend the historic town a grandiose air of New England mixed with a hint of the belle South.
If it sounds a little too picket-fence perfect, perhaps it was. Since the Great Fire of 1878, in which much of the city was destroyed, many restless spirits are still said to knock about their period homes, earning Cape May the distinction as one of America’s most haunted towns.
A number of spook tours were on offer, but we decided to take the ghost hunting into our own hands, asking locals to point us towards the innumerable haunts. Venturing from the packed waterside blocks to quiet avenues, suddenly screen doors seemed all the more creaky, and rocking chairs appeared to sway despite an absent breeze.
The Southern Mansion inn was our first stop, where staff members recalled strange visions of a gentrified couple waltzing in the exquisite ballroom. At the Martini Beach Lounge, we were led up an old attic stairwell where phantom footsteps are frequently heard — though our paranormal luck was out.
Most intriguing, however, was Elaine’s Haunted Mansion, where the ghost of a young girl, Emily, is said to frequent. “Just recently, I was in Room 6 and I could hear her playing with her marbles,” the receptionist told us.
A case of mystery marbles then, or, perhaps, lost ones.
Back in Atlantic City that night, we hit the town’s notorious boardwalk. Built in 1870 to stop tourists bringing sandy feet through their hotel lobbies, today the four-mile promenade is a Jersey jamboree of fairgrounds, casinos, diners, and beach bars. Strolling the stalls, I decided to test my fortunes with Madame Maria — a gum-smacking gypsy whose grey eyes told of a hard life on the hostile streets of Bucharest or maybe Newark.
Swallowing my 10 bucks quicker than a Trump Plaza slot machine, she tentatively announced, “I can see you work with your hands”, before trying to flog her $50 palmistry package to me.
We hedged our bets and made for the casinos. The colossal gambling hall of Trump Plaza was a cacophonous la-la land where masses of slots, black jack and roulette tables reeked with delight, devilry and desperation.
After much deliberation, we chose our roulette table on criterion loosely based on Stetson count and the proximity of a cocktail waitress.
Gambling novices with an ‘Ocean’s Eleven’ swagger, within a hat-trick of spins, Viv and I unexpectedly increased our modest wager ten-fold. $200 cash out, please, fair Croupier!
Back on the boardwalk, we splurged our winnings on a tub of custard (whipped ice -cream to you and me) as the crescent-shaped coastline twinkled beyond. Nearby Caesar’s Palace beckoned, but we resisted.
Real winners know when to quit.
NEED TO KNOW
Getting there
Aer Lingus (0818 365 000; aerlingus.com) flies from Dublin and Shannon to New York JFK from €498 return.
Continental (1890 925 252; continental.com) flies Dublin and Shannon to Newark, NJ from €612 return.
A return Greyhound trip from NYC to Atlantic City takes just over two hours (greyhound.com; $50/€38).
See atlanticcitynj.com.
Staying there
For a casino-free hideaway with vibey vistas, the Atlantic City Sheraton Hotel has rates from $84/€65pps B&B (001 609 344 3535; sheraton.com/atlanticcity).
The Resorts Casinos Hotel on the boardwalk strip sees your prime location and raises you excellent budget value. $41/€32pps B&B (001 609 344 6000; resortsac.com).
Located on a leafy avenue of maples and echinacea daisies, Elaine’s B&B in Cape May offers comely colonial charm — with the occasional bump in the night.
From $50/€38pps B&B (001 609 884 4358; elainescapemay.com).
Five great things to do
Take a tour of New Jersey’s best-loved mafiosa family, ‘The Sopranos’. Tony’s local pizzerias (pictured below), car shop and strip joints are fan favourites ($48/€36; screentours.com).
Discover wildlife in the Everglades of the Mid-Atlantic by catching a pontoon ride across the salt marshes of Stone Harbour ($28/€21, or $15/€11 for kids; wetlandsinstitute.org).
Savour the iconic snack that is the hoagie — a mini baguette stuffed with pepperoni, cheese and pickles. Only New Jersey could get away with having a bread roll as its state dish.
Split your sides at the Borgata Comedy Club. Think witty Jay Leno monologues with Jersey cabbie in-jokes ($20/€15; theborgata.com).
Sip some zesty zinfandels at Cape May’s chic vineyard (tastings from $6/€4.50; capemaywinery.com).
– Thomas Breathnach, Irish Independent, March 3, 2012