Last week was my first time in New York City. The place overwhelmed me with its' towering buildings, masses of people and richness of cultural attractions. As the arguable center of capitalism, the NYC is full of the contradictions of globalization. In Manhattan, some of the richest people in the world live in some of the most expensively priced real estate and shop at some of the most expensive stores, while service workers toil away at minimum wage jobs. If they are lucky, the working class in NYC can receive some sort of subsidized housing or rent control, if not, I have no idea how anyone on anything less than a moderate income ($50,000 or s0) can afford housing there. The widening gap between rich and poor seems to be one of global capitalism's most dismal failures.
But not everything was doom and gloom in New York City. The same globalization that creates such inequality drives many of us humans from all over the world to migrate in search of a better life, for better or worse. Migration--internal and international--has given New York City an incredible energy. People from all corners of the globe and all walks of life are packed into a city so dense it's like nowhere else in America. All of these cultures have given New York some excellent food, and the search for and enjoyment of this food was the highlight of my time in the city (this shouldn't surprise anyone whose ever eaten with me). I have a fascination with street food (sometimes leading to ill results in the stomache) that I was able to indulge plenty in New York city. It also took me off the beaten path and into neighborhoods where tourists such as myself don't often stray. My first foray was up to 181st Street in Washington Heights, where I sampled some Dominican habichuelas con dulce (sweet bean and root soup) and empanadas in a crowded, gritty working-class setting. I wanted to take some pictures of the street life, but didn't think the guys hanging out on the stoop of an abandoned building near the soup stand would really appreciate my being such an obvious tourist in their barrio.
I had read some articles about the cultural diversity of Queens, and since it seemed a good place to eat, I headed out there. While waiting for Freddie, my friend and freshman roommate from college with whom I stayed in NYC, I found some delicious bites to eat in Jackson Heights. Stepping off the subway (which in that part of the city is an elevated train), I found myself in a melting pot world: one street full of South Asian commerce, another Latino while a third was Korean. I headed into South Asia, where I snacked on samosas and drank some hot chai. When Freddie arrived, we explored the neighborhood a bit, taking in the bustling atmosphere that was still very New York but a very different place than Midtown Manhattan. We marveled at the variety of cultures in Jackson Heights: Indian, Bangladeshi, Tibetan, Korean, Colombian, Mexican, Ecuadorian, Peruvian to name a few, before heading into Astoria. There, we went searching for a section of that Queens neighborhood called Little Egypt, but got lost due to my bad directions. Instead, we found an Ecuadorian restaurant and enjoyed catfish soup, delicious fresh-squeezed juice and the biggest hominy kernels I've ever seen.
Of course, I must give credit to some of the mainstays of the New York diet: pizza and bagels. Thanks to a friend's recommendation, I found great bagels at H and H in the Upper West Side and large, greasy slices of pizza at Koronet, not far from Morningside Heights, where I stayed while in NYC. Since I was in New York for only a few days, I am sure there is plenty of excellent food I missed out on, and plenty more eating adventures. Something to look forward to should I ever return to New York.
I came to Cambridge, MA for a night before heading back to Oakland. Cambridge is a very walkable little city with plenty of bookstores, coffee shops and inexpensive, delicious restaurants, and felt much more relaxed after New York. In many ways, I was glad to leave NYC behind: such a crowded, sprawling city was much more stressful for me than most other places where I spend time (especially the farm up in Hoopa where I was the first week of my break). As the Chinatown bus I was on headed out past the high-rises of the Bronx and into Connecticut, the place that is New York has become surreal in my memory, a world so different than what I am used to that I still have trouble believing I was there. Images of busy streets lined with tall, brick apartments and crowded subway lines flicker through my dreams at night...
Back on the West Coast, I know I am home, I can breathe easier out here. I grew up in Seattle and have never lived in the East Coast. I did live in a crowded city for a year, in Istanbul, Turkey, and that experience was the only one that provided some point of comparison to my time in New York. I love the energy and the dynamism of big cities, but I need the open spaces and wide landscapes of the West.
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