Day 2

Well, I guess hitting the 2-day mark makes us official New Yorkers...well, a least we're a little closer.

After tossing and turning to the sounds of the city all night, we finally drifted off for an hour or two (the window was open because it's freakin hot in this apt, which we aren't used to considering the arctic environment we're used to withstanding -- Dan is probably a human popsicle right now), then woke up to the soothing sound of rain and car horns. The day started off on a sad note -- as we were getting ready to head out for the day, ambulances screamed to a halt just outside the window. As we watched from above, the homeless person J was using as a guide to locate our building yesterday turned out to be a woman who, it appeared from above, was probably not going to make it. Very strange and sad -- maybe she's just fine...

To get us started on the long what-are-we-going-to-do-today decision-making process, we set the goal of figuring out how to ride the subway. With this lofty task in mind, we headed out into the rain to find food. We ate aigs and grits at this great place that served soul-food breakfast in the village, and were fueled enough to take on the trains. On our first foray into the subway, J discovered he knew the guy sitting next to us from the Bantu African dance and music camp that he went to last year in NM -- crazy world! This fellow was so kind and gave us a place to go see his band play next week. He also guided us through a scary thing called a "transfer" in which you get off one train, walk up and down some stairs, then get on another train. It felt very fortuitous to meet him and we felt like we had conquered our first challenge (please read this knowing that I know that it sounds ridiculous and is only meant in a half-kidding, pitifully partially true way).

On to the Lower East Side Tenement museum, which was amazing. We really enjoyed the tour of the actual apts of garment-district working-class immigrants. The building had been shut off to the world since 1935, and was a well-preserved illustration of a bygone era. Although the apts were crazy small and housed "sweatshops" of up to 10 people in addition to the large families, they didn't have a bad feeling to me. Unlike the larger sweatshops that locked employees in horrible conditions, these people were working out of their homes side-by-side with their employees. I'm sure the work was very difficult, but the pictures showed smiling faces of people who were working to make a life in a new place and were constantly surrounded by the love of their families. I don't mean to romanticize what was obviously an incredibly difficult struggle; the apts we visited just felt full of hope to me.

After the tour, we decided to trek down to the south TKTS booth to get discout tickets for a matinee show tomorrow. As we wandered through Chinatown, it was surreal and wonderful. We stopped to snap pics of guys delivering huge slaughtered pigs to storefronts that displayed the browned chicken and geese that we've all seen in the movies. For most of the time we wandered, we were the only Boulder hippies -- at least white Boulder hippies -- for blocks at a time. Coming from such a sadly diversity-deficient place, it was a powerful and heartening feeling to be vastly in the minority. On one of the more popular tourist blocks, we discovered a deal on t-shirts and took the bait. As I waited in line to buy two for $10 (they were the high-class t's -- the cheap ones were 7 for $10), the Chinese cashier and a group of French tourists figured out a way to speak the international language of commerce, and I was again inspired by the exposure to something other than born-and-raised-in-the-west-beef-eatin-space-lovin-white-bread Coloradoans.

At about this time, the weather took a turn for the ridiculous, and we somehow managed to laugh at the sight of ourselves trying to walk into whipping wind that made sculptures out of our worthless umbrellas. In heavy rain, we finally gave up the idea of staying dry, and swam the last few blocks to the ticket place...only to discover that we didn't have enough cash to buy tickets (the place doesn't take credit). Without the heart to find the nearest subway stop in the gail-force winds, we took solace in beer and fries at a chain brewery.

After peeling off our soaked stuff and defrosting in the shower, we napped until now, about 9pm, and are ready to go out and face the world again...I love this place!

Day 1

So, after stalling for the last 6 months we finally made it out of town. I've been dragging my feet pretty bad -- our original plan was to leave for a year, then 6 months, and finally we settled on a measely one-month stay. Luckily, L's been pretty motivated -- found us a place, booked tickets, bought guide-books, etc. So without her I wouldn't be sitting here right now. Why are we here, you ask? Not really a good answer -- because it's here? Nah, both of us know we need to expand our boundaries and get out of our comfort zone. I don't know much about the East Coast and even less about how to get along in a real city.

Anyways, let our story begin. We had a wonderful last week in Boulder -- many great dinners as our friends wished us luck on our trip. We capped off our last day at the Southern Sun, site of tasty beer that's guaranteed to get me up bright in early with a gut-wrenching stomach-ache. Seriously, any more than a beer and I'm a hurting unit the next day. True to form I woke up bright an early at 5:00 am -- right on time for our bus. A short walk brought us to the bustop which was the first leg of our trip. Pretty run of the mill travelling - I really don't like it - but it's worth it to see new places.

(Skipping forward to something even vaguely more interesting . . .) So, we finally arrive in New York. What can I say? La Guardia is great preparation for NYC -- people rushing everywhere, a definite feel of uncleanlyness, and a mild scent of urine. We make it out of the airport okay, knowing enough from the guidebooks to make it through the "where do you need to go?!" hustlers and get a cab. A surprisingly short trip and we're at our destination -- the office of the apartment broker where we need to pick up the key to our place.

Wow, intimidating. I'm only partially sure we're at the right place. It's a little hole in the wall between a big group of people standing around smoking. We act like we know what we're doing and push our way through. We get to the sign-in desk, nobody's there so we continue the 6 feet further to the elevator. I'm making this sound big, but the place is honestly just a long hallway. There's another group of people here all having that hard-to-describe city style -- you know, hat a little cocked to the side, a set of headphones, a cell phone, a torn-up jacket, a bit of 'tude. We wait our turn for the elevator (really just a moving closet) pack our ginormous bags and ourselves in with another fine fellow. Absolutely no acknowlegment of each other, but the guy's on the phone (in walkie-talkie mode BTW) getting a dinner order for his girlfriend. Jerk chicken with extra sauce. "C'mon extra sauce? You gotta call me back and remind me -- I got alot on my mind". My weak writing skills can't do the guy justice, but I'm having a really hard time not cracking up as we sit inches from each other.

So, we get into the office -- the best way to describe this is a little nondescript door (looked like we were going to be retrieving a mop) that opens up into a sanctuary of light, space, and comfy couches. We'd been in town perhaps an hour and I'm already overloading on the place. Just not use to the dirt, smells, noise, and lack of space. I few minutes of sitting and I'm back ready to see what this place has to offer.

We arrive *2 hours* before our apartment is going to be ready, so we have some time to kill. The lady is real nice and let's us put our bags by her desk so we can run around unhindered. We leave, and realize that the whole building is made of offices which explains the large group of people out front -- smokers kicked to the curb. Still though, going back outside is immediately overwhelming. We decide to check out our new building which is 10 or so blocks away. The walk is relatively uneventful, but I feel like I'm in a movie the entire time. I know it's real, but people seem like a caricature of what you'd expect a New Yorker to be like.

Tons and tons of businesses. I honestly can't believe the use of space here -- every inch of ground-level building is used for some type of commerce. Most of the names I don't recognize and it's really hard to determine what the business does. I can wander by a hospital, grocery, bar, or mortuary (yeah really) and I can barely tell the difference. We do come across a Home Depot, which seriously looks like a roman temple. I can't figure out what someone would need a angle grinder here for, but its available if you need it.

We make it to our building and we're pretty psyched. It's on a busy street, but it's by a bunch of bus stops and subway stations. The cool part is that it's between these places -- which means a healthy distance from the hustle, bustle, and weird dudes hanging out. We do notice an elderly gentlement taking a nap by our entrance, but he seems harmless enough.

We continue walking for an eternity until the apartment will be ready. This allows us to get a pretty good look at the Murry Hill neighborhood, the highlight being a dog run in a semi-deserted park. City dogs are different than I expect -- pretty cool, but a little aloof and uninterested in my existence. I try not to take it personally.

Finally our key and the big hike *back* to the apartment again. I'm so fortunate to have a thoughtful wife -- she only moments before talked me into buying a roll-cart for my 700lb. bag. We get back to the apartment and it is sweet. I almost run over the owner on the way in. We have a lot more space than I planned. Three levels! A kitchen/dining area on one level; a living room with a futon, couch, and three or four chairs on the next; a bedroom and bathroom upstairs. It's really clean and I doubt I'll have any cockroach or rat stories to tell. I can definitely handle living here. Oh yeah, did I mention it's $2500/mo?

The downside is the sheets. Not too nasty until you get up close. Yep . . . new sheets are mandatory. We walked by a Bed, Bath, and Beyond on the way here (oh yeah, that *and* Home Depot in one day) and, despite my desire to avoid packaged Americana, we make our way there. I find the piped in oxygen, matching blown-glass dinner sets, and Top 40 tunes sort of comforting in relation to the chaos outside. I finally find myself relating to real locals -- we all find the clusterf**k of a checkout area infuriating. Still no eye contact, but at least I can tell we're all pissed. We stop on the way home for a bottle of wine or two and realize how absolutely worked we are from travelling.

Despite my obsesiveness about making the most of our experience, I concede that tonight is probably not a good time to hit the town. Instead we opt for a nice little Italian place literally downstairs. It winds up being quite good and I really enjoyed myself. When we walked in I sensed the same aloofness that I'd been getting all day, but it wound up that everyone was really friendly. It's weird how population density lends itself to anonymity which leads to aloofness, but underneath most people are pretty much the same if you actually get the chance to talk to them.

So, we make our way home. I honestly don't know if I would have found the place without spotting the feet of the elderly gentleman I mentioned earlier sticking out from a giant pile of trash (I'm sure he's just "resting"). Nice to be back to our new home. I'm already getting concerned that we only have a month here.

As I sit writing this George Carlin's on the TV making fun of Colorado. Man, I can't imagine what the rest of the country thinks of Colorado. Is Southpark just funny or is it true?! I'm too close to be able to tell . . . I'll have to see how I feel in a month.

All in all a pretty good first day.