New York Encounters

There is a group of 4 men wearing construction uniforms up ahead. They are gathered together on the side of the road talking loudly. I keep walking with my head lifted and I look at them in the eyes as I am about to pass by. "Hi! How are you?" One of them says to me joyfully and I smile and answer back. "Happy New Year to you," he says and I continue smiling until I make it to 6th Avenue, laughing at myself a bit. You judgemental b*tch. Not everything is what we think it is going to be.

It is freezing outside and I come up with a list of productive things that I can do without having to leave the comfort of my four walls. My friend comes to meet me later to go to the film centre. He recommends that we walk and at first instant I think that he is crazy. In that case, I grab my hat and gloves. As we walk, a full moon hovers low in the sky in front of us. A bitter wind whips at my face and dances with the strands of hairs that are not zippered up in my jacket. It's cold and I can feel it. And I am happy inside and happy that we decided to walk.

I get off the train at 125th street and walk around for a bit. Harlem is different than other parts of the city. I like it. I like the culture. I like that I haven't been here before and now I am. I stop and talk to the guy from Mali who is selling hand-made soap and incense. He's friendly and not overly pushy with his sales so I stay awhile and we laugh about random things like the bottle of oils that is labeled "Michelle Obama". Harlem is different than the lower east side, just as the village is different than the upper west side. The people are different, too. They are different inside the city and different outside the city and different than in Costa Rica. The things we talk about and the way we laugh doesn't feel so different.

My friend holds a guitar in his hands and he's playing music and my hands are frozen. I smile as I watch the people passing by stop and glance in his direction. I am fascinated by the scene in front of me. Some people come by and ask questions and give money and others just keep going. I like the faces of the people who stop and let the music touch them.

A lady gets on the train and tells me that she is pleased to see someone reading a real book and not the kindle. I agree with my words and my heart. My shoulder and back disagree.  We talk for a long time about modern society. She is from Trinidad. I feel that she is angry at me for some reason. By the way she looks at me and the way she holds her hands and how she interrupts me when I speak. I am not sure if she is angry at me. This may just be what I think.

I go to a Food and Farmer's Forum by myself and I meet a farmer. I love the way he speaks about what he does and I don't need him to tell me that he does not know how to separate his work from his life from his way of living and I appreciate this. I stay after to speak with him and we get a coffee together. The next week he invites me to a gathering at his friends house. When I get there, I do not know anybody and then we have a beer and start cooking together. I make the tortillas. The place is warm and full of good energy and I don't feel out of place at all. Later, all the guys and a really beautiful girl start making music together on drums and guitars and I wish that moments like these could last forever.

I see my old friends from high school and it is not hard to fall right back into wherever we were when I last left. They make me smile and laugh and we can talk about deep things or light things, serious issues or things that don't matter and I feel safe to know that I will always have these people in my life. They start to dance to the music that is played in the bar and I watch and smile and soon it is time for me to go home and I walk alone to the subway and at first I am not sure about going alone, and then I remember how much I love it. And I sit there on the subway and I toggle between people-watching and reading. I love to watch the people. {especially in New York}. I wonder if it bothers them when I watch and I hope I am not too obvious. The lady in front of me smiles. I think she can read my mind.

New York is a dreadfully busy and beautiful place.
A place that I have left for long periods of time.
A place that scares the shit out of me.
A place that brings me home.
A place that lights a fire in me.
A place that keeps me feeling. A place that keeps me alive.