I promised you more stories. I’ve been collecting them for you, and here they are (with pictures):

——————————

It’s 7:45 am on the 15th. I woke to the sound of my hosts getting ready for work and decided to take a moment to write. Time has flown by in a whirlwind of experiences since arriving two days ago. After getting off the bus at the Port Authority I headed to the apartment of Deborah’s friend Claudia (Deborah is a dear friend in Portland). The apartment is in East Harlem, right on the northeastern corner of Central Park. It used to be public housing that was bought by a private company and is now being converted into more upscale apartments. Currently, it is a weird conglomeration of the old building with shiny new accoutrements added to the entryway. This is gentrification in New York. In Portland and D.C. it is happening as well. All three processes look slightly different but the basic premise is seems the same: the suburbs are moving back into the cities.

Claudia and her housemates offered to take me in when other housing looked like it was falling through. In a city where people live in closets for more than my entire monthly budget I have mountains of gratitude for such openness. Would I be that generous with my time and space for someone like me? I before this experience I don’t think I would.

I felt that New York welcomed me with open arms in the form of Claudia and her housemate Bianca.  We became fast friends and talked for hours when I first arrived. Claudia is from Texas but did her Masters in Social Work at Columbia and has stuck around since then. She is also Mexican and was interested in what Edna and I were doing in the City, letting me know of other events around town for the Independence Day celebrations. Bianca is doing her PhD in mechanical engineering at Columbia, which is where she met Claudia. She is also into scifi and other geeky things, and we totally bonded on that level.

After I got settled int he apartment I headed out to meet Edna in Union Square. We got delicious fresh and hot falafel sandwiches at Maoz, and then decided to go up to Times Square. When I came up from the subway station I thought that I had stepped into a TV commercial of the future. Everywhere there were screens nine stories high accosting me with images of models twirling in high-definition slow motion, showing off the latest H&M fashion. It was fascinating and appalling in equal measure. We both were overwhelmed very quickly and only lasted long enough to get some photos of the cataclysm. We made a bee-line for the subway and headed to our respective, transient homes to get some rest for the big show.

The show went great overall. The sound guys didn’t know what to do with my violin, but the challenge was helpful to get my mind off of the fact that I was playing for thousands of people. The space was massive: an old, completely empty armory the size of a city block with a stage set up in the middle. There were tons of acts and we were right in the middle of mariachi and dancers. People representing the folklore of Mexico showed off their traditions. Chinelos from Morelos with their feathered and painted masks and ornate, beaded costumes; son jarocho from the east coast; and many others from different parts of the country. I am astounded by the richness and diversity of Mexican culture; each of the 31 states and the federal district have their own unique music, dance, and clothing, and many of them were represented during the show.

We stuck around a little after the show to eat our complementary tacos and see the consulate and her entourage make their entrance. She was with some famous man who everyone wanted to get pictures with. It seems like there’s always someone important within a stone’s throw in NYC. Edna’s friends Susana and Maria Fernando had some ideas for busking (playing for tips on the street) so we made our way back to Manhattan. We tried the subway stops at Grand Central Station and Union Square, and then went above ground to Union Square park itself, testing the waters at each place. We weren’t very successful, only making $6 with 8 songs or so, but we learned a lot. Our contributors were mostly other musicians, wishing us luck. Once, though, while we were between songs in Union Square a little girl came up and just stood, looking at us expectantly, so we played her a song and her mom gave her and her brother a dollar to put in our case. She was so rapt and unassuming. It made my day.

————————————

It’s 5:15 pm, still the 15th, although I can’t believe I was just writing you not twelve hours ago.

After my entry I headed out the door to meet Edna’s manager, Daniel, and his partner Gio, who got in this morning from Philadelphia. We had fresh New York bagels on Broadway in the Upper West Side. They had  about 15 different cream cheese spreads available, all visible in a display case by the cash register. I got an everything bagel with lox spread and a plain bagel with blueberry. Between the two I probably ate about a quarter pound of cream cheese. Delicious.

We wandered around Central Park following advice from Gino, a Brazilian-Russian-American man we met yesterday while playing. He suggested we head to the mall where all the tourists go to rent boats. It is a long promenade where plenty of people are selling crafts. There were already other street performers there, some very lively acrobats, so we moved on. Just a few yards beyond we could hear some beautiful, otherworldly music from a family of singers who had a prime spot under the bridge on the way to the lake, the most sought-after in the city. It was already spoken for after their set, one of them let us know, by some classical musicians who were also playing with the family. He suggested we try a spot by the fountain between the bridge and the lake, where lots of folks were congregating, and wished us luck. We tried it out with El Pastor and immediately dollars started landing in Edna’s open guitar case. Encouraged, we continued, and people loved it. We even had a small, black schnauzer plant herself in front of us, refusing to budge despite her owner’s desire to move on. It was much more lucrative and satisfying than yesterday’s trial.

————————————

It’s 10 am on the 16th. Last night was lovely. In the middle of writing you another friend of Deborah’s (she is becoming my NYC friend yenta) called. He is a musician in town and she put us in touch so I could connect with some of the scene here. I was already planning to go to a show Alphabet City (named because the uptown/downtown streets are letters, not numbers like the rest of Manhattan). He was game, and even got there early to save me a seat right up front, which was perfect since the subway always takes much longer than I expect and I got there late. It was a fantastic show: John Zorn and an excellent group of experimental and avant-garde musicians from NYC and elsewhere playing in the tiny space called The Stone that Zorn curates. It was super inspiring, reminding me of the amazing experience of music, and that my only limitations are self-imposed. It helped get me out of my head and into my heart and re-ignite my passion for creating.

After the show we headed to Pukk, an all-vegetarian Thai restaurant that I think is more in the East Village. It was so lovely just to hang out with a new friend and trade stories and inspiration. I’ve been missing my friends in Portland, missing the ease of hanging out with folks I have a history with. It was balm to my heart to have such an immediate connection with Elijah over something I love so much.

Today I’m heading to Brooklyn to stay a few nights with Amanda, a Portland friend. Time to say goodbye to the great folks from this leg of the journey. Time to exchange info and hugs, to gather up my things and make my way to the next chapter.