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World's coolest cemetary

January 10, 2020 (Afternoon)

Exercise Type: Run

Comments:
Ran north through Highbury to Stoke Newington. I changed upon Abbey Park, an amazing cemetery from the 1840s that was designed to be set in an arboretum but became incredibly wild and overgrown when the cemetery company closed. Today it's preserved both as a historic cemetery and a nature preserve. There were tons of people strolling around, and I spent a good two miles looping around, turning down dirt trails on a whim. The whole thing I scarcely a half-mile across, but there's lot of little trails within it to explore. It sounds morbid, but I can't think of a more fun place to visit a grave. It feels a bit like you've wandered into the Amazonia exhibit at the National Zoo, without the humidity.

After leaving the graveyard jungle, I headed up the main north-south boulevard in the hopes of finding the legendary Stoke Newington bus stop where the bus I ride home each night claims to be headed. By the time I passed it, however, something far more interesting had caught my eye. Hasidic Jews! This was Friday afternoon, mind you, so these ultra-orthodox men in their black hats with side curls and women wearing whigs pushing strollers were all about, shopping before the major feast of the week. It's easy to forget that ultra-religious Jews are neither Luddites nor Amish until you see one of them riding Lime Scooter talking on his cell phone while wearing an outfit designed in 17th century Poland. It's a jarring contrast, though I'm sure I'd get used to it of it lived here (or certain parts of Long Island, Brooklyn, LA, or Silver Spring for that matter). Strange that I never really met any Hasidic Jew or even knew what they looked like till I was in college. In some parts of the world, this is the first image the word "Jew" brings to mind.

After leaving the Chasidic neighborhood of Stamford Hill, trying to read the Hebrew (or was it Yiddish?) on the shops and schools as I dashed by, I discover a lovely canal that flows northwards, presumably out of the River Thames. Well, I guess by definition a canal doesn't flow, but I was flowing down the tow-path nonetheless, past various barges and house-boat-looking things moored along the wall. I suddenly realized that I was tired, hungry, and a long way from home, so I made my way back, getting sidetracked many times and cataloging the various restaurants and ice cream places I passed for future reference. I'll be back here soon, no doubt.