New York, New York
New York and I have quite a history together. In fact, aside from San Diego, I don't think there's an American town, village, or city I am more intimate with or have spent more time in. In the past few posts, I have written plenty about the DC area, how DC happened before Jordan, Nepal, etc.
If you rewind the tape further, you will see that New York came before DC. Liebi and I had the fortune of living there for two formidable years before getting married in 2004, although my history with the Big Apple started way before that.
As a teen in 1980's Europe, New York was my personal Mecca, the be all-end all to all things civilized. I would browse through numerous picture books showing the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, the Brooklyn Bridge, and even the World Trade Center in all of their glory. One day, I thought to myself. One day, I too would get to walk the streets of that city.
In 1986, I finally got that chance as a snot-nosed 17 year old, accompanied by my buddy Gonzo, then my classmate and still a dear friend to this day. I remember us exiting from the subway around Penn Station in the late evening and gazing at these monstrous skyscrapers lurking above us, their lit up windows gazing down at us like thousands of eyes that were only a small fraction of the mythical mammoth that is New York. I would return to New York many times, even if it meant spending all of my hard earned money to achieve that. One thing I noticed quickly is that I could live in a place like NYC. I was as fast as any of the walkers in NYC (even faster, I claim) and had the inherent street smarts that were needed to survive the hustlers that are a dime a dozen in any major metropolis, but probably nowhere more so than NYC.
I would get my chance to live there in 2002 after my Peace Corps service, when Liebi and I would move in together and make our home in Woodside in nearby Queens, right off the 7 metro line. We quickly adapted, even moved to the Upper East Side a year later and became natural New Yorkers, taking full advantage of America's #1 city and its incredible night life while allowing us time for the finer cultural things in life, like nearby Central Park and the museums. A dream had come true, and I was living in the heart of New York, riding its subways, gazing at its art, and going to Mets games.
Sadly, the experience would leave me unfulfilled. This is not a knock against New York, it's just that we weren't that perfect a fit after all. Seeing New York as a 34 year old is different than seeing it as a 17 year old, I realized. As a working man in New York, I quickly discovered that I had to pay a federal, state AND city tax. I still have no idea what that tax was for. In addition, I ventured into places around the city that would make some third world cities look good. Eventually, Liebi and I left once we got married and didn't return.
Until now. In the year 2013, I signed up for a cheesemonger's workshop at the famous Murray's Cheese Shop in the West Village. New York and I would be reunited after nine years.
Sadly, as a 44 year old with two young children, New York fails to thrill me much anymore.
Sure, the food culture here is still incredible, and you must be on a permanent hunger strike if you can't find anything edible that you like here. New York still has a lively heartbeat to it while the streets full of people act as the arteries to pump blood into it. No city seems to be so vibrant, so active, so alive. Central Park is as wonderful as I ever remember it. I love New Yorkers, by far the best component of the city. They are very forward, will tell it like it is, and are, contrary to popular belief, actually very, very friendly and helpful. A New Yorker is the real deal.
But Lord, that place is filthy...not to mention downright dilapidated in some areas.
No upgrades have been done to the metro system, I've noticed. The subway walls are still peeling back like rotting bananas, there is enough trash between the rails to fill the East River (and maybe it's actually filling it by now), and rats are as abundant down there as ever. Your city tax dollars at work, New York. Things are still overpriced, ridiculously so. People pay a premium to live in what amounts to a giant sewer, and some buildings just look like they're praying for a wrecking ball. People say you need to be quick, but it would be nice if traffic rules were actually enforced every now and then. Queens and The Bronx (not to mention Staten Island) didn't didn't do it for me back then, and they still don't. Everybody talks about the gentrification and revival of Brooklyn, but there are still places in Brooklyn (the grand majority, I'd say) that are as miserable ever. Even Manhattan, if you look more closely, has no clothes to wear in many areas, its naked urine stenched sideways impossible to ignore.
Liebi and I hold the boys tight as we walk through the streets of Manhattan, the cold wind lashing our faces. Our destination is 76th Street and 2nd Avenue, about a mile or so from where we used to live on 94th and Second. The apartment we rented for the weekend has no hot water, hasn't been cleaned, and looks like a bachelor pad after a striptease party the night before. Welcome back to New York, world chump. And you're still paying a tax, although we can't tell you for what.
Being seasoned world travelers, the boys seem even less impressed than I am. They have traveled on plane, train, automobile, camel, and elephant, so they merely shrug at the yellow taxi cabs racing past them.
More than anything, this is just the background of my history with New York. Some people will still swear up and down that there is no place like New York, and they may be right. I will focus more on the finer things of the Big Apple with the next blog.
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