Saludos de Nueva York!!
Man, I already thanked my parents but I may have to thank them again. Maybe buy them something nice or something. I have no idea.
Today has been a damn lot of work, what with moving all damn day. But it's also been a lot of fun as I've overheard or been a part of several conversations that have piqued my interests...and all in Spanish.
(I wonder how many of you worried that the rest of the entry would be in Spanish? No se preocupen, es deficil escribir sin los acentos. Ademas, pienso premariamente en ingles.)
I'm really sad to have moved out of Woodside - I really like that neighborhood. People hang out on the front steps of their homes till all hours. Kids play wherever they can to all hours that they're allowed. I think I would have just a hell of a time trying to get along if I didn't know Spanish. Even though the organic produce store and the fruit stand on Roosevelt street is run by Chinese folks (as was my wine shop - oh, wine lady *sob* I'll miss you!) I'm going to miss seeing women in saris going about their business on the street, at the laundromat or the store, and of course not too many men in dashikis hanging out on the corner, smoking and having intense conversations in another language here in the Upper East Side. But Woodside is growing into a strongly Latin community, with a predominant Mexican community. It had long been an Irish strong hold and then folks of all kinds came in and the next nationality to take the lead was Colombian. But I was assured today that it's now all Mexican all the time - by my Colombian cab driver.
First this morning I headed out on the 7, above a piece of Queens from Woodside to Long Island City. And for that piece I sat across from some tourists who were taking pictures out the window at the graffiti and the views of Manhattan and the bridges. It helped to remind me quite a lot that I really do love it here.
Later on, around the early afternoon I was headed back to Queens on the R and there were some Latin guys sitting right up against me (I was in a corner seat) intently discussing the geopolitical situation in South America and the current play between socialism and capitalism. I couldn't quite a good read on their positions, but it was fascinating to listen in (from behind my newspaper). I couldn't really say where they were from. I'm not very good with Latin American accents that aren't from Mexico. It was very clean and nearly Castilian (and one of them may very well have been from Spain). I wanted to interrupt them at times and get them to repeat themselves when I couldn't tell what they said or ask a few questions of my own. But the feeling that eavesdropping is rude and my inhibitions won again. They exited the train a couple stops before mine.
Finally (after admitting defeat and calling a car service), I got into an extended conversation with the cab driver as he saved me about eight hours worth of subway time (and polite but prodding stares from A who wanted her room back). As we headed out of Woodside we got into talking, I can't remember why. But the conversation ranged from explaining that yes, there is violence and crime in Los Angeles, but it's not like American Me. At least, not any more, not everywhere and not all the time. Man, New Yorkers just seem convinced that in LA we spend our time dodging earthquakes and drive-bys on our way to do lunch with movie stars and our regular colonics or whatever. I did have to painfully admit that LA is more ghetto-ized than New York. It's sad but true. But really, there are plenty of us who think Botox is stupid, don't have time for celebrities, were never jumped into a gang and shrug off most earthquakes. But he did tell me that it used to be pretty bad in New York before Guiliani and (police chief) Bratton. He assured me it's still a bad idea to wander around Central Park alone after dark. And then he regaled me with some of the stupid ass shit the ridiculously wealthy of New York do with their poor dogs. I knew pretty much all of it but it really is the stuff of stupidity. But he tried to break the numbers down, talking about widows with no family, subsidized housing and an income of $15,000/month. Instead of telling him what I really would do with the money when he asked me I just said I couldn't imagine riches like that. (I don't know how to say "found my own international theatre troupe" or "save the world" in Spanish.) But he did make me realize that I've never, not once, seen a stray dog in NY. Then he went off about how it's held to be a worse crime to hurt a dog than a man. May be slightly an exaggeration, but only slightly.
And that's that. I'm moved now. No mailing address yet. Gotta get to work on that next. I'm physically tired though. My arms ache and my knee has been popping like mad. But my head is buzzing. In a good way. I wanna write. It's raining out and I keep coming up with little stories that could be the stuff of a Disney Channel movie or something suitable for a Hallmark card. I don't know what's going on. Maybe I'm in a good mood.
Today has been a damn lot of work, what with moving all damn day. But it's also been a lot of fun as I've overheard or been a part of several conversations that have piqued my interests...and all in Spanish.
(I wonder how many of you worried that the rest of the entry would be in Spanish? No se preocupen, es deficil escribir sin los acentos. Ademas, pienso premariamente en ingles.)
I'm really sad to have moved out of Woodside - I really like that neighborhood. People hang out on the front steps of their homes till all hours. Kids play wherever they can to all hours that they're allowed. I think I would have just a hell of a time trying to get along if I didn't know Spanish. Even though the organic produce store and the fruit stand on Roosevelt street is run by Chinese folks (as was my wine shop - oh, wine lady *sob* I'll miss you!) I'm going to miss seeing women in saris going about their business on the street, at the laundromat or the store, and of course not too many men in dashikis hanging out on the corner, smoking and having intense conversations in another language here in the Upper East Side. But Woodside is growing into a strongly Latin community, with a predominant Mexican community. It had long been an Irish strong hold and then folks of all kinds came in and the next nationality to take the lead was Colombian. But I was assured today that it's now all Mexican all the time - by my Colombian cab driver.
First this morning I headed out on the 7, above a piece of Queens from Woodside to Long Island City. And for that piece I sat across from some tourists who were taking pictures out the window at the graffiti and the views of Manhattan and the bridges. It helped to remind me quite a lot that I really do love it here.
Later on, around the early afternoon I was headed back to Queens on the R and there were some Latin guys sitting right up against me (I was in a corner seat) intently discussing the geopolitical situation in South America and the current play between socialism and capitalism. I couldn't quite a good read on their positions, but it was fascinating to listen in (from behind my newspaper). I couldn't really say where they were from. I'm not very good with Latin American accents that aren't from Mexico. It was very clean and nearly Castilian (and one of them may very well have been from Spain). I wanted to interrupt them at times and get them to repeat themselves when I couldn't tell what they said or ask a few questions of my own. But the feeling that eavesdropping is rude and my inhibitions won again. They exited the train a couple stops before mine.
Finally (after admitting defeat and calling a car service), I got into an extended conversation with the cab driver as he saved me about eight hours worth of subway time (and polite but prodding stares from A who wanted her room back). As we headed out of Woodside we got into talking, I can't remember why. But the conversation ranged from explaining that yes, there is violence and crime in Los Angeles, but it's not like American Me. At least, not any more, not everywhere and not all the time. Man, New Yorkers just seem convinced that in LA we spend our time dodging earthquakes and drive-bys on our way to do lunch with movie stars and our regular colonics or whatever. I did have to painfully admit that LA is more ghetto-ized than New York. It's sad but true. But really, there are plenty of us who think Botox is stupid, don't have time for celebrities, were never jumped into a gang and shrug off most earthquakes. But he did tell me that it used to be pretty bad in New York before Guiliani and (police chief) Bratton. He assured me it's still a bad idea to wander around Central Park alone after dark. And then he regaled me with some of the stupid ass shit the ridiculously wealthy of New York do with their poor dogs. I knew pretty much all of it but it really is the stuff of stupidity. But he tried to break the numbers down, talking about widows with no family, subsidized housing and an income of $15,000/month. Instead of telling him what I really would do with the money when he asked me I just said I couldn't imagine riches like that. (I don't know how to say "found my own international theatre troupe" or "save the world" in Spanish.) But he did make me realize that I've never, not once, seen a stray dog in NY. Then he went off about how it's held to be a worse crime to hurt a dog than a man. May be slightly an exaggeration, but only slightly.
And that's that. I'm moved now. No mailing address yet. Gotta get to work on that next. I'm physically tired though. My arms ache and my knee has been popping like mad. But my head is buzzing. In a good way. I wanna write. It's raining out and I keep coming up with little stories that could be the stuff of a Disney Channel movie or something suitable for a Hallmark card. I don't know what's going on. Maybe I'm in a good mood.