This winter has been rife with change. In December, I was offered a job at a Creative Writing school in the city. The job is fair, just, and tolerable. This is more than can be said for the dull office temp jobs that I took out of sheer desperation when we first got back to the country (not to mention that insane producer job that went tits up within weeks!). I am more than happy to work at the Creative Writing school until our time in NYC is up.
As for Shaun, he’s been busy tending to his exploding freelance career and working at a well-suited day job in academic publishing. He’s also been diligently networking in an effort to pair his fiction with an agent. He travels for work a lot; a publication recently sent him to San Francisco to cover a convention. He is in DC to lobby for first amendment rights for work this week. It’s a wonder to me that he finds time to write. But he does, every weekend. Such discipline!
Also this winter, our apartment has transformed from a storage space of dusty boxes to a furnished, cozy refuge from the outside world. I’ve made a small handful of friends and re-connected with people from the past who’ve also wound up here in the city. I’m taking writers’ workshop again, dusting off some old works of short fiction that I’d been neglecting. We’ve discovered a favorite neighborhood restaurant. I’ve established a running route. I make bi-weekly treks to the library. We’ve been busy getting into a groove, something that is emotionally difficult to do in a city that we don’t see ourselves living in for very long (another story for another time). But we’ve been doing it. And there have been more than a few dazzling moments. I just haven’t had the time to blog about them.
One warm weekend in January, Shaun and I wondered Central Park for hours. That was a beautiful day.
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Over President’s Day weekend in February, our Baltimore friends Beth and Jay came for a visit.
We dressed up the cat…
…and walked around the city.
We also took the free ferry to Stanton Island. There, you can glimpse the Brooklyn Bridge and the Statue of liberty. We were going to walk the Brooklyn Bridge, but we ran out of time and nice weather. Next time!
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Staten Island has a totally and completely different feel than Manhattan, Brooklyn, or Queens. It feels like a small, separate city, nearly suburban. A bit shabby, but quiet. We walked around for a bit, I took a few snaps, and then we were back on the ferry. I discovered more than a few cool things to check out on Staten for the next time I go, including a huge park with hiking trails, a museum of Tibetan art, and an authentic Chinese garden. Also, next time, I want to eat at this restaurant with killer bird murals painted all over it:
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More pictures from Staten:
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The Manhattan skyline on the ferry back home:
Beth, Jay, Shaun, and I strolled through the city some more the following day, Sunday, February 17th. The morning started in Times Square and meandered uptown, through Central Park, to spend an afternoon at The Met.
Usually, Times Square makes me want to seizure. The belly rumble of the subway underfoot underscores the shill noise of buses breaking, taxis honking, street vendors hawking, pop music blaring, and a million different cell phone conversations at once. There’s beggars, TV crews, tourists, hot dog vendors, pick pockets, models. The working poor and the unemployed rich. We are all bodies in motion here. From a distance, we are one lump human sum, streaming together down sidewalks and cross streets. The appearance of cooperation soon disintegrates: once you’re in the throes of it, Midtown is a mosh pit. We clutch our belongings tight and elbow past each other with gritted teeth. We weave through crowds. We cut each-other off with our wheely suitcases. We shed hot cigarette ash on one another’s thighs. We get hit by cars and bikes in our desire to get where we’re going and get there first. We struggle against millions of neon lights screaming millions of meaningless advertisements. In Times Square, capitalism reaches a frenzied pitch. It is usually a nauseating showcase of humans at their worst.
Still though, when visiting NYC, a walk through Times Square is a must. Unlike many tourist activities, you do not simply sight-see in Times Square. You have a visceral experience. We could never deprive Beth or Jay of this.
However, to my complete surprise, the noise of the square had purpose that morning: to celebrate Kosavo’s independence from Serbia. It was really beautiful to stumble upon something like this. For the first time, the square was focused and friendly. Crowds cheered and wrapped themselves in flags. An impromptu parade unfolded in front of our eyes – immigrants drove through the square, hanging out of their car windows, honking their horns, cheering, jubilant. For the first time since I arrived in New York, the humans around me were not stepping over each other; they were sharing something positive. The power of it overwhelmed the hustle and flow of commerce in the square. No flashing advertisement or aggressive promoter could compete with the force of those happy humans. I’m glad our friends got to see NYC at its triumphant best.
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Have you ever been to Times Square? What was your reaction to it?
Travel Tip: To cleanse your pallet after any Times Square rendezvous, I recommend a visit to one of the city’s nearby vest-pocket parks: The Plaza on 6th Avenue, between 48th and 49th Streets. There, a tall pebbly waterfall runs the width of a lot; a short glass tunnel slices through the center. Walking through the cool tunnel completely refreshes the senses. Beneath it, the sounds of the city disappear. All you can hear is cascading water, all you can see is its bubbling surf raining down atop you. As far as I can tell, though, this park isn’t open on the weekend, so plan your post-Times Square lobotomy accordingly.
