One week ago we left New York to find our way home- I wish I had the time to write the stories as they happened, but I was more interested in *living* the story than recording it. Which is the right choice, of course- if you don't live in your story, there is no story~ And yesterday I was trying to write, to think and it just wasn't happening so I went back to bed, woke up to breakfast, lounged around watching Crossing Jordan all morning with the manz, took another nap, then went to Walmart. We came back with flowers, a grey lawnmower and inspiration- most of the front porch is cleared off, the stack of lumber is sold to the fellow down the street, lawnmower assembled and tons of things hauled off to the dump. We were both tired, sore and very, very dirty last night~ but feeling hopeful. Forsythia and grape hyacinths are blooming, daffodils are about over, and the wisteria hasn't opened yet but is fully budded. Hopefully today will warm up and we will finish that- and I will get the school work wrapped up this morning. Time turning has thrown me off though- I am not ready for it to be 8:00~ I just want to operate on *my time*- I do well without clocks and calendars and lose time quickly when I am not paying attention. When I have to pay attention- like during a presentation or at school- I get all anxious and am always calling the time....annoying. I should much rather have things unfold as they will, and the day will take care of itself.
New York was a wonder- I loved the action, the *up* of everything, the colors. It's funny because beforehand there are always these mutterings (about anywhere it seems) that people will be rude, standoffish, dangerous- you have to be careful and not expect overly friendly behavior. The city will be dirty and difficult to navigate, expensive and very very...well, cityish. And people who have been give advice on 'how not to look like a tourist', 'how to blend in', 'how to act like a native'. Well- we *did* have the required wardrobe of dark neutral colors, but that was compromised by my pink boots and both of us wearing bear hats, backpacks (Melissa's orange, mine has bells), taking pictures constantly and talking to everyone we met. We made it a game to greet all the working people we passed- people like doormen and police officers, tourist guides and just anyone standing around as part of their job. Most looked *so* serious until we said hello, good morning, and no, we don't want the empire state building tour to the top, but could you tell us how to get to x? We met more people this way- some I mentioned earlier- letting our curiosity show, being helpful, pleasant, polite and enthusiastic. Melissa can talk to anyone, and they happily tell her their stories- I look at everything, listen well. We lived the adventure in the cities we visited, and only met a few people that were uncouth. (the evil Einstein look-alike at Times Square who yelled at Melissa about smoking- a few steps off center but we decided that he was just cranky because cigarettes sell for $15.00 a pack in the city). Everyone else was nice, and they all loved our bear hats. (which were highly superior to the cheapy ones being sold on street corners).
When we roamed the city, we do so at random- we would have a basic destination (like Enchantments, or Pearl River Market) but would weave throughout side streets to get there. We walked through residential neighborhoods, districts devoted to one thing or the other (garment, flatiron, shows, food), came across places by accident that were wonderful. I saw my first ghostbike (memorials- bikes painted white as memorials to those killed in biking accidents), took photos of street art and street people, but mostly of the 'up' part of the city. Buildings and trees full of pigeons, brightly lit signs shadowing the remains of words painted on buildings long ago. The city (Manhattan, which is *not* all of NYC, so this is this part) itself was busy but clean for the most part, chaotic but purpose driven. More serious and self conscious than Philly, which had a bit of restraint, more like a prep-school graduate. (Compare to the wild floozy that is New Orleans, the business woman that is Charlotte, the languorous belles Savannah and Charleston, trampy Myrtle Beach, smart, odd San Francisco). That is the trick to things, to discover parts of what it may really be like- the face behind the makeup, so to speak. Getting to know a place as much as you can in a short time, which is also why we love to walk rather than ride- riding you miss so much and I don't want to miss anything!
We also play a game- what if I lived in the city? So if I lived in the city (and had the money to make it happen) I would live in Hell's Kitchen or East Village, have a magic shop downstairs and live above it in a tiny apartment. I would tell fortunes and sell charms, paint in the parks and give things away unexpectedly. I would visit the street markets and eat a food from a different country every night, buy things from grocers and delis with labels I cannot read, talk to strangers. Take lots of photos with specific themes. Live in the natural history museum when I wasn't doing anything else- drawing nature preserved. Take my doggs to the dog park, conquer my fear of heights so I could sit on the fire escape or the roof to watch the sky. I would become a local character, the weird woman who tells stories and wears what she likes- bear hats and pink boots.
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