I'll begin with some ordinary New York things, then move on into crazy territory. The photos are bigger and much crappier in this blog entry for some reason.
On Labor Day, I decided to take a walk to the Caribbean festival, which was happening next to Prospect Park. There were tons of people, some parade floats with music blaring, and a TON of police. This is a very New York observation. I guess coming from Boston, you don't really get this as much, but when there is a festival or something similar, it seems that they send way more police out than required. But then again, this is a U.S. city that's dealt with terrorism, so it kind of makes sense somewhat, but still not really. Here's a photo of the police at the festival:
I've really enjoyed exploring the different neighborhoods of Brooklyn and Manhattan so far. One of the things they like to do in New York is to make kind of acronym/portmanteaux of neighborhoods to create a hip new name. One well-known example of this is TriBeCa, which stands for the Triangle Below Canal St. Also, there's SoHo, for South of Houston St., and the lesser known NoHo. But then there are some that are kind of dumb. There's NoLiTa, which is this really small neighborhood that has just begun being called by that name, which stands for North of Little Italy. There's also BoCoCa, which stands for Boerum Hill, Cobble Hill, and Carroll Gardens. Whenever BoCoCa comes up, or NoLiTa, for that matter, my roommate Sarah laughs and says each name with a flippant British accent. But the point of this is that I went to a neighborhood called DUMBO, which stands for "Down Under Manhattan Bridge Overpass." It's a dumb name, I know. But it's a cool area. Lots of art galleries and stuff in renovated warehouses. And it has a great view of Manhattan. Here's a photo of a park in DUMBO, with the Manhattan Bridge above:
Another nice view of Manhattan from the hip neighborhood of Williamsburg (not well exposed though):
So the deal with New York has been, I stay a few weeks with Sarah in the living room of her 1-bed, we look for a place together, and move into a 2-bed in October. It's been tough finding apartments in the Windsor Terrace area since it's so in demand. I contacted lots of places, and finally, one responded. Success.
I walked to check out the apartment. The beginning of the walk was residential, then it became slightly industrial. I was turning a corner a few blocks into the walk when I saw this huge beam of light shooting into space. I freaked out for a second, then I realized it was the beam(s) of light they shine out from ground zero at night sometimes. I freaked out for a second, then I appreciated how interesting it looked. Here's a blurry shot of those beams from a different angle, from the harbor, just to give you an idea:
I continued walking. At one point I found myself next to the creepiest flower shop on earth (think of an Art Nouveau Paris Metro stop-like slightly abandoned-looking greenhouse), and at the same time, across the street from this huge cemetery with an almost full moon and the spires of a gothic chapel visible on the horizon. It was creepy and fun. Then I turned onto the street where the apartment was located.
The place looked cute enough. I walked in, met the owner, and realized it kind of sucked. One of the first things she said, in her sales pitch to me was, "It has no closets! I don't like closets! I like wardrobes! You can move them around!" I wasn't buying this. Here's a photo of one of the sucky bedrooms:
Then she showed me the backyard. I said "this is nice" and she said "You can't go on it. There's a big tree there and i'm afraid it'll fall down. It's a liability." Then she continued, "I have wireless internet and since I live downstairs you can use my internet for your computer. I figure it's the least I can do since all those internet signals are traveling through your body all the time!" I said "You're insane," and I left.
Okay, here's where it gets really nuts. And there are no photos from here on. Friday: I get terminated from my temp position prematurely for working too slow, and I kind of talk back to the supervisor, in a sassy, funny way, which he kind of appreciates I think. Then I have dinner and dessert with Leo, a guy I've been seeing in NYC. At dessert, I order a DECAF double espresso. I order decaf because I can't process caffeine. So I drink it and a short while later I'm doing handstands and bouncing off walls. Apparently it wasn't decaf. I can't relax. I go back to Brooklyn and freak out. I'm jogging around my block, pacing the floor, frantically calling people, and thinking I'm going to lose my mind and die. I decide to come back to Boston to chill out. I take the train home, relax at my mother's house, and try to eat something. I then realize I might want to just come back to Boston to live. I'm comfortable here, most of my friends are here, and I've always been content here. In New York, I know there would be no dearth of stimulation, and spending quality time with Sarah and Leo has been great, but I am starting to realize/convince myself that New York will be a great place for me to visit. I was thoroughly enjoying my time there, but thinking of being there long-term made me realize that I'd be a better tourist in NYC than a resident.
So I called my old roommate Nicia, we looked at an apartment together in Cambridge, and we secured it. Looks like I'm back.
Now what happens next? Well, I find the waitress that gave me that caffeinated espresso, and...