Fresh flavor A newcomer’s reflections on Providence’s idiosyncratic appeal BY BEN YASTER
	ROOKIES GUIDE 2004 Fresh flavor A newcomer's reflections on Providence's idiosyncratic appeal BY BEN YASTER Land of chow Small in size, Rhode Island is rich in appealing cheap eats BY JOHNETTE RODRIGUEZ The sporting news The Ocean State offers its own distinctive complement of athletics BY ALEXANDER PROVAN AND WILLIAM ST. JAMES SMITH Getting religion With several less familiar faiths, Rhode Island remains a bastion of spiritual freedom BY JESSICA GROSE

Three years ago this month, I packed most of my belongings into a rented beige minivan with the back seats removed, kissed my parents goodbye, and drove onto the seemingly never-ending blacks lanes of I-95 along the mid-Atlantic coastline. The drive to Rhode Island, an eight-hour, three-coffee, two-pit stop marathon, was not particularly memorable — really, how many interstate drives are? — but I do remember feeling a caffeinated unease in my stomach somewhere after exiting the George Washington Bridge in New York, a tightness that, as I got closer to my destination, stretched towards my chest like a swimmer’s arm mid-overhand stroke.

I knew nothing about Providence, the city I was to call home for the next four years, and had no idea what to expect; As a Baltimore native, I never left that town much, except for yearly vacations to smile for pictures with my grandmother in her retirement community in balmy southern Florida. Not knowing what waited beneath the imposing terraced Fleet building and the rest of downtown’s tiered skyline, I simply hoped that Providence would approximate city life in Baltimore, just with a different baseball team (in a neighboring state) and a stranger accent.

In April, after two-and-a-half years of living in Providence, save for summers spent back in Baltimore, I read an essay by David Brooks, the New York Times’ conservative op-ed columnist. He argued that the suburbs — specifically "the suburbs of suburbia," the little boxes built beyond the sprawl of, say, Warwick or Cranston — are not clichéd commercial and residential cul-de-sacs looping in vapid circles, but more like what our cities were more than a half-century ago: places endowed with the possibility of future social and economic prosperity. As Brooks writes toward the end of his essay, "Suburban America is a bourgeois place, but unlike some other bourgeois places, it is also a transcendent place infused with everyday utopianism."

Never having lived in the suburbs (though my parents’ house is near the county line), Brooks’s essay left me puzzled. If Brooks is right — if the suburbs are transcendent and utopian — what about Providence, with its historic New England architecture, anachronistic mills and warehouses dotting the city like patches of gray hair, and WaterFire installations that, with their moody music and lighting, appear to aim for a transcendent — if not necessarily utopian — experience?

Then again, why should we care about transcendence, if that means suburbia’s milquetoast concentration of ranch-style houses, strip malls, and parking lots the size of football fields? Providence is a distinct and specific place with its own character, quirks, and idiosyncrasies — and not just because it’s urban. Providence, as I have learned during my three years here, is a city unique onto itself. It is not, as I had partially surmised during my first drive into the city, a Baltimore minus the Old Bay-seasoned crabs, or a Miami without the tan lines. Providence is also distinct because it is Providence, offering a combination of sights, sounds, and lifestyle alternatives that can’t be found elsewhere. In the same spirit, the following is a partial compendium of some of the things that I, as a transient resident, have found compelling about Rhode Island’s capital city.

Providence is a small town — to get from Branch Avenue, near Pawtucket, Providence’s northern neighbor, down to Roger Williams Park, the oasis of greenery that borders Cranston to the south, one has to travel fewer than seven miles. Most trips in the city are probably much closer. Given the city’s spatial nuances, Providence is a place where you can certainly live without a car or, at least, the need to drive every day.

Bicycling is an apt and sometimes more desirable alternative to driving in and around Providence. Given the amount of traffic congestion downtown during peak periods, and Providence’s punitive parking laws — like the infamous overnight parking ban — bikes are cheaper and typically less of a hassle than owning a car. Providence’s roads, except for the potholes and storm drains that pock them, are generally manageable by bicycle.

Joe Savick, a mechanic at Providence Bicycle (725 Branch Avenue, 401-331-6610, www.providencebicycle.com), recommends that local bicycle commuters ride a cruiser with higher handlebars for improved visibility, a wider seat to increase comfort, and a rack on the bike’s rear for hauling books or groceries. For the safety-minded, a helmet is a must. Providence Bicycle has one of the widest selections of bicycles in the area, ranging from sleek, lightweight roadsters to thick mountain bikes with accordion front shocks. The Hub (181 Brook St., 401-263-1297, www.thehubprovidence.com), a new bike store on the East Side, offers a smaller collection of new and used bikes, but the good prices and the experienced and friendly staff make it a welcoming place to come for repairs and to talk shop.

For pedal-pushers interested in the building and upkeep of their bicycles, or for riders looking for a more communal approach to cycling, check out Circle A Cycles and Recycle-A-Bike. Circle A (299 Carpenter St., 401-831-5221, www.circleacycles.com), owned by local bicycle enthusiast Chris Bull, sells steel bike frames — usually thinner racing-style models that elegantly bend in sharp acute angles — built from scratch according to the size and needs of the rider. Because Circle A’s frames are tailored to the individual cyclist, not built en masse for public consumption, you won’t find very many in local bike shops. To learn more about Circle A’s frames, which usually cost between $800 to $1200, visit the Web site or Carpenter Street shop.

Recycle-A-Bike (891 Broad St., 401-454-5865) might be the most unconventional bike and repair shop you can find. While most retail stores sell bikes that come straight off the Trek, LeMond, or Huffy manufacturing lines, Recycle-A-Bike is a unique place where volunteer mechanics and riders fix and construct bicycles with donated second- and third-hand parts. Unlike most bike shops, where the mechanics wrench, wire, and inflate bikes in a secluded alcove at the back of the store, Recycle-A-Bike volunteers work with people to fix their bikes, so they learn how to maintain their two-wheeler. No matter whether it’s a simple lesson in cleaning and lubricating a chain, or a more complicated task of fixing break cables or replacing handle bars, you’ll be in good shape. Recycle-A-Bike is open Saturdays from noon until 4:30.

Most recreational cyclists usually stick to scenic paths for a smooth ride free of car traffic. Providence has its share of bike paths. The East Side’s Blackstone Boulevard, a mile-and-a-half long stretch flanked by greenery and the namesake thoroughfare, and the East Bay Bike Path (www. eastbaybikepath.com), a bucolic paved route that connects India Point Park, and East Providence via Narragansett Bay, with Bristol, are both pleasant rides. In my experience, though, some of the best riding is on the city’s roads. Not because the ride is smoother than a prescribed bike path — believe me, it’s not — but because the sights are so rich.

The Cranston Street Armory, the Church of the Holy Ghost on Atwells Avenue, east of Eagle Street, and Francis Street’s Masonic Temple, between the Providence Place Mall and the state Capitol (with its ionic columns, and for the adventurous trespasser, wall-to-wall graffiti inside), are just three examples of the architectural spectacles on display for any passing walker or cyclist. The Armory, an early 20th century construction that originally housed the Rhode Island National Guard, is an especially staggering sight. The first time I saw the massive pale orange and green trimmed fortress was while riding my bike on Dexter Street from South Providence toward Westminster Street. The sun had already set, and the street lighting was minimal, forming dim intersecting rings of visibility on the right and left sides of the road. While making a right on Cranston Street, I almost ran into a parked car when the Armory’s towers, hovering like blue rooks against the navy sky, came into view. During the day, the building and its Technicolor facade is even more impressive from adjacent Armory Park.

Biking on Valley Street or Hartford Avenue in Olneyville offers a view of some of Providence’s unique historic mills and warehouses. These industrial spaces, large block-wide fraying brick boxes, are captivating, much more so than the glowing Wal-Mart and Home Depot cubes in Seekonk and Warwick. Within the beauty of their stately walls, some of these mills and warehouses have quietly housed Providence’s thriving and distinct noise-rock scene in recent years. For information about upcoming shows, keep your eyes peeled for flyers posted on telephone poles and café information boards, or check out www.lotsofnoise.com.

A few nooks and crannies within Providence provide nightlife venues that are perhaps more interesting for how the bars and clubs sit in relation to each other than for the individual locales themselves. One spot right by the edge of downtown Providence and the Jewelry District — the two-block radius encompassing the Green Room (145 Clifford St., 401-351-7665), the Complex (180 Pine St., 401-751-4263), Club Ultra (172 Pine St., 401-454-5483), and Club Hell (73 Richmond St., 401-351-1977) — provides a potent cocktail of dancing, drinking, and libertine behavior. Thursday nights are popular. The Complex spins hip-hop for young women in highly hemmed skirts, and the Green Room has an indie rock night for swaying horned-rimmed and loose-limbed former art students. The most interesting part of the evening comes after closing, when these and other different crowds stagger together to find their cars and drive home, or to stop in Spike’s Junkyard Dogs (various locations, including 85 Richmond St., 401-421-0830) for some greasy, succulent after-hours chow. Fights and spontaneous bouts of face sucking have been known to erupt in the post-dancing frenzy.

Providence, like any other city, has its share of watering holes and cafes as well, both for those in need of a cold beer after work, or to scratch that morning caffeine itch. Brooklyn Coffee & Tea House (209 Douglas Ave., 401-575-2284) in Smith Hill, and the Hot Club (575 South Water St., 401-861-9077) just east of the Point Street Bridge, are just two among many bars and cafes, but each has a certain gestalt that is distinctively Providence. Brooklyn Coffee & Tea, open only in the mornings, is located on the first floor of a three-story vine-swept brick walkup that sticks out like a maple tree among the shrubby New England townhouses on Douglas Avenue. Owner Anthony F. Demings, a chatty barrista born and raised in the Renaissance City, serves up the morning brew over talk about politics. The pumpkin coffee, as strange as it may sound, is quite savory, a small perk in a small coffee shop in the smallest state.

When I first heard about Hot Club from a friend at school, I imagined some pseudo-spring break atmosphere with strobe lights, push-up bras, and guys wearing too much gel in their hair. This image more closely resembles some other places around town than the Hot Club itself, a chill stretch of dock on the waterfront of the Providence River, where the beers are relatively cheap and conversation sails as casually as the wind across the club’s deck. The clientele is usually an older than post-collegiate happy-hour crowd, but the sun-soaked dock is appropriate for anyone of drinking age. Get out there while the weather is still warm.

After putting aside the buzz of caffeine or alcohol, and the cramped legs from a night of dancing, return to Providence in the quasi-natural light of the suburbs. Southside Community Land Trust (109 Somerset St., 401-273-9419) represents the kind of idealistic urban communal cooperation that doesn’t always turn up among neighbors set off by picket fences. The Land Trust, a mostly volunteer-operated working farm a few blocks west of Rhode Island Hospital, grows crops that are made available to low-income families and sold to the general public through farmers’ markets at Hope High School and Parade Street in Providence’s West End. The Land Trust’s produce is organically grown and of strong quality. And with its lower prices, the Land Trust’s crops will surely be cheaper than your last trip to Whole Foods or even Shaw’s. If that’s not transcendent, I don’t know what is.

Ben Yaster, a Phoenix intern, is an upperclassmen at Brown University. He is a leading proponent of the "Yes for Yaster" governing ticket.