Chelsea: Guide de voyage, prix et hébergement gratuit · 2026

DDDmitrii DvornikovBonhamJohn · 18 oct. 2012Lire

Finally, after such a trip, I made it to New York. Thank God, during my layover in Washington, I met two other outcasts like me from Russia who had absolutely no idea where they were going to sleep in the Big Apple or what to do at all. The shock started when we took off from Washington. That was when I saw the full scale of what was happening. We landed. The weather didn't seem the most favorable. However, despite the clouds and occasional rain, it was very hot—that's the local climate for you. We arrived at the Port Authority. And that's where the most interesting part begins. Broadway, Madison Square Garden, NY Subway. And this is my first trip abroad. Who would have known what I was feeling in those first few hours. We decided not to waste time and look for a hostel for the night. I found an ad for a hostel on Amsterdam Avenue. After giving a strange taxi driver 12 bucks, we walked into a lively hostel. After the question: “Do you have a reservation?”, we were a bit bummed out, as there were no free beds. A friendly African-American girl with a Muslim crescent and star tattoo on her arm started calling other hostels. After a long conversation, she said there were 3 spots at the Chelsea International Hostel. No choice, we took the subway there. The subway is a separate topic. A hundred times livelier than the Moscow one. Not in terms of the flow of people or the crowd size, but how people behave in the subway. It turns out that Chelsea is not far from the Port Authority Bus Terminal, where we came from. We arrived and checked in. I was put in a room with two German girls. When I arrived, they weren't there. I took a shower and just as I lay down to sleep, they came in. I said a few words to them through my sleep, something like: hi, i’m only for one night, and only for sleep. Hearing an 'ok' in response, I passed out. Morning started with rain. A proper, short-lived rain. I woke up before the girls. I lay there for a long time, then one of them woke up. We had a nice chat, I told her why I came and where I was from. And she shared her impressions of Russia in return; she had been to St. Petersburg once and complained about the terrible cold, talking about -16 with wind. And I told her that where I live, it even gets to -30. Then a nice breakfast. You walk up and get a bagel with jam, butter, and an apple, then you make yourself coffee or juice of your choice, you could also have cereal. Overall, everything is very pleasant and civilized. Next stop - Port Authority again, from where I am writing this post. I don't want to say goodbye to New York, I've ended up in a dream. But what can you do, it's time to go to Lake George.

ААленаEnergizeR · 1 mai 2011Lire

Wait a second, stop! Where is the "pause" button here? Referee, time out, please. I have questions! There are several of them, they are a bit strange and different But I will try to explain everything very simply (c) GUF "I have questions" Like any first-timer, I probably have 100,500 questions before the trip. 1) What should I take with me? Considering that it all has to fit into 1 backpack 2) How to get to... (Moscow from Perm, Airport to Chelsea in New York, from New York to Atlantic City, from Atlantic City to Ventnor City...) 3) Where will we live? 4) Will I understand anything in their speech? 5) How to learn this not-so-small menu? 6) When will it finally be warm? 7) How long will it take for me to reach Masha in America? 8) With whom and how will I celebrate my birthday? 9) Macbook air pro or IPad2? 10) Is there life on Mars? 11) How much money should I take with me? 12) Who will I sleep with in America, considering that my Grizzly won't fit in the backpack (I'm talking about my bear, just so you know)? 13) And when I get expelled, can I be reinstated for the 4th or 5th year? 14) Why are there top managers, but no top janitors or top cleaners? What do I need to do to become a top waitress in America? 15) Can one be convicted, like for a bribe, for a bribing smile? 16) How to force myself to pass exams? What (who) will be my "kick in the butt"? Well, actually, to be honest, I'm only interested in the first and last question, the rest will be solved as problems arise) Guys, if anyone is reading this, please help ;) Let's figure it out together

SStevenoFear · 26 juin 2010Lire

I woke up in a Chelsea hostel - it was a nightmare. I'm writing this based on memories from almost a month ago, but back then I was like a lost kitten - poking around here and there, sleep-deprived, not properly washed, and tired as a dog after a sled raid to the North Pole. I found Wi-Fi, found housing - it turned out a guy was looking for roommates for a studio in West Harlem - Morningside, right next to Columbia University. Well, I thought, what the hell - after talking to this brother (his name is Serega, by the way) for a good half hour, I rushed to Harlem - and what do I see? Heavenly conditions for only $2000 a month. Anyway, after chatting with Serega, we came up with a very reasonable payment system - $2000 a month comes out to $66.66 a day, and then we split that amount by the number of tenants. Since 6 people were planned, the planned rent was $11.11, which is very, very good for Manhattan. And even at the moment when there were only two of us, I paid only $33.33 - the same as in the hostel but with better conditions. Damn it, how dull all these numbers are. Oh, to hell with it, a day later another roommate moved in - Vova, a day later Irina arrived, then Anton and Pasha arrived. They are all wonderful people, but with their own, ahem, quirks. Well, that's all uninteresting, here's what was interesting - a trip to Times Square at night. Damn it, thousands of times people told me about it, and yet it was mega-cool to see it for myself. Crowds of people, an abundance of advertising, limousines, sports cars, police, tickets, flatiron buildings, tickets... to hell with all these lists, you have to see it for yourself - come and see! So, what else was interesting... Yes, a lot of things, but everything needs to be in order... So, a few words about working in New York. This summer there is so little work here that you can consider it non-existent. On Craigslist, they are always offering something shady like paid training for a security guard, and restaurants are not particularly eager to hire - I personally went around about a hundred and fifty cafes and restaurants, left resumes for busboy positions, filled out applications, chatted with managers - and always a refusal. But I must say that Americans are a polite and friendly people - and I didn't expect it at all, but they almost always tell me 'good luck', which I think is like sympathy, as if without divine intervention you won't find a job at all. Well, nothing, today I had an interview (I think it was unsuccessful, although the manager told me that I was a good fit and he would recommend me, but Serega and Anton were interviewed with me, and he told them exactly the same thing, we will continue the search), also an acquaintance called, said there is a small chance to get a job at a factory. I think it won't work out, tomorrow I will go to restaurants again to ask for busboy jobs. There are still a thousand untold stories left.

SStevenoFear · 1 juin 2010Lire

We arrived. America. The first thing that catches your eye when walking toward border control is the cars parked outside. A couple dozen Ford Crown Victoria police cruisers and some new-looking Chevy Caprices, typical American utility trucks, and an ambulance. Man... My I-94 form needed a destination address and a US phone number, but I forgot to write down the hostel address on a piece of paper... Whatever, I wrote down the address of my fake employer and my Russian mobile number) They let me through) After saying goodbye to the new friends I met on the plane, I thought, I really need to call my parents... There was a lady selling calling cards, but man, I'm the smartest guy ever—I thought, why spend so much if I'll just buy a phone later and call home for 10 cents a minute? Anyway, I went to the AirTrain, wandered around a bit, and finally made it to Jamaica Station. I decided to get a monthly MetroCard—oh well, screw it, might as well—and then I started spacing out... Honestly, I spent about 6-7 hours wandering around the city, bumping into things with almost no results—I bought an American power adapter for 12 bucks and a pretty trashy TracFone mobile—I couldn't get the codes to work to call Russia, just a simple Samsung with 450 minutes for 60 bucks. I was clueless, yeah. So, I'm wandering around Manhattan looking for free Wi-Fi to find the hostel address—naive and fruitless. I walked into the neighborhood where the hostel was supposed to be—and it was a pretty rough part of Harlem, no white people at all... and again, no results. Time is ticking, and you get more and more confused, I had to do something—so I decided to call home at any cost. My censored TracFone won't call home, and Beeline won't turn on roaming. Damn. I was getting depressed, no place to stay, didn't call my family, and I was dead tired, that's it, I'm sleeping in Central Park. But okay, I pulled out the number of a J-1 acquaintance I met online from my laptop, and he says, listen, go to Chelsea Hostel on 23rd Street and buy a calling card to call home. Well, nothing else to do, I decided to figure out the card first—I found a landline, spent a long time staring at it wondering what to do. I found some Indian guy who sold me a card for calls to Europe. Staring at it again, no idea what to do with it or where to stick it, whether to enter a number or what. I exchanged a couple of bucks for quarters, thinking, okay, now everything will be fine—and still couldn't get through. And then, finally, I was unexpectedly connected to customer service—and that's when all my problems were solved in a minute, because I had my Visa card with me—entered the card number, confirmation, everything, okay, and I finally got through to my family... I'll skip the conversation with the homeland, because it would just be more censored stuff. Anyway, I still had to find Chelsea Hostel, 23rd Street. Okay, I head there and spend another couple of hours wandering around, annoying Americans with my insanely broken English. So, finally found it—a couple of blocks south of 23rd Street, went in, paid for 3 nights upfront, and crashed. To be continued—housing, Harlem and Morningside, the chaos with SEVIS, SSN, and banks.