Day 192 Dead in New York

The dead body in the hostel lobby might have struck me as a bad sign if I had not been so tired. I didn’t kill the guy so I really didn’t care—just as long as they changed the sheets. The only thing that did bother me was the disinfectant that the maintenance guy was spraying everywhere but especially on whatever was dripping from the body as they carried it out. It wasn’t blood and my curiosity didn’t go so far as to make me ask.

Then the clerk told me that they did not have any record of my online reservation or deposit. Even worse, they only had two beds available, both more expensive than the one I had booked. I pled my case and got a discount on the one that wasn’t recently occupied by a corpse.

It had been a long day of travel by bus and subway from DC and by the time I got into my dorm room I was ready for bed. The first thing I did was to sniff for disinfectant to see if I got the right bed. It was the only time I was ever reassured by the lack of disinfectant, usually the opposite is true. It was midnight and I hit the pillow hard. I had to get up at 4:30 in the morning to get to the airport for my flight to Brasil so I needed all the sleep I could get.

Needless to say that I was less than pleased when, at 1:30 am, the security guard woke me from a deep, peaceful sleep by yelling at me. He was under the impression that I was in the bed under false pretenses and demanded to see my receipt. I groggily and irritably dug it out and thrust it at him. After checking it, making a call to the reception, and saying only, “sorry,” he left. They had overbooked the room and someone had come up to find me where they were supposed to be. It only took about 5 minutes but I was so irritated by the whole thing, I almost did not go back to sleep. I was even less thrilled in the morning when I found that one of my roommates had left the door ajar; anyone could have come in while we were sleeping and taken our bags.

Sleep deprived, I stumbled out into the frigid morning air at 5:00 am. I did not have time to stop at my favorite bagel shop across the street. I was loaded down with an extra bag of clothes and my new Rollerblades and could not sit down to enjoy my usual NY breakfast of a coffee, bagel, eggs, and home fries ($5). It was snowing hard and the two blocks to the subway left me fluffy white. That is, until it melted and it left me unpleasantly damp. While it took almost an hour to get to the airport, I was happy that I did not have to take a taxi.

The check-in line was short, I was right on time, and security went smoothly. I should have known something was wrong. The plane had been delayed coming from Brasil and was going to be departing three and a half hours late. I was going to miss my connection in São Paulo and would have to stay in a hotel. On the positive side, I had plenty of time to get some overpriced breakfast to eat. I got coffee and a bagel and paid 8 bucks for a days worth of wi-fi (for which I found out later they double charged my card).

I was happy to finally get on the plane. Even the hour of de-icing time sitting on the tarmac did not bother me. I was on my way to what my mother aptly called my “happy place.”

Day 181 The Worm in the Apple

I strolled across the Brooklyn Bridge yesterday and enjoyed the good weather. I could not bring myself to go to any museums or visit any other sights. After Paris I only wanted to walk and relax. I walked about 70 or 80 blocks and only took the grungy subway twice.

I had the unfortunate need to ask for help with the bus to DC. It is a discount bus run by a Chinatown company and does not have a storefront. At only $20 for oneway, I had no complaints other than I could not find the stop. Everyone I asked was brusque and not helpful, even customer service people at the bus station. It was amazing to see people go from friendly to rude as soon as I asked them to think a little. I talked to maybe ten people and none of them were glad to help me, not that they were helpful anyway. I am glad I was not staying longer. I finally found another Chinatown bus and I made my way to DC for my Foreign Service Oral Assessment.

Day 179 New York

I love good surprises and New York was it. My last visit to NY was when I was working as fashion photographer. The agency I was working for flew me and a group of models to a fashion convention for two weeks. The models were a pain, everything was overpriced, and people were rude everywhere I went. Needless to say, the Big Sour Apple left me with a lasting distaste.

To my astonishment this time, the people I met were outwardly friendly, prices were good, and I didn’t have to deal with models. Okay, so the last part wasn’t a surprise. Seriously, I was baffled by how nice people were. But of course, I did not need anything this time. I could manage to do things and get around without help. Patrícia had an experience more like my first time. She thinks that if I needed something of people they would have been rude. I’ll see if it is true. I don’t know if the prices are better than last time or if I shop at different places now. Also, compared to Paris and the bad exchange rate, NY is not bad at all.

I bought Rollerblades today and went to Central Park to try them out. It was a beautiful sunny day—that was good. The park is big with many places to skate—that was good. Everyone else in NY thought it was the perfect day to be in the park too—that was bad. The people that sold me my skates didn’t offer to sell me protective gear—that was bad. I was thinking it was like ice skating and didn’t consider protective gear—that was bad. I failed to learn how to stop well before I went down a big hill—that was very bad. I managed to not fall down—that was good. I did remove a chunk of skin from my hand—that was bad.

After my mishap, I put on my winter gloves, (it was cool anyway) and skated around about two thirds of the park, stopping occasionally to watch experienced skaters make me feel like I was mentally disabled. They make it look soooooo easy. I consoled myself with the fact that everything I had read about in-line skates said all beginners look like idiots. I will try again, but only with some pads.

I am working on a idea that I will continue to explore in my travels. It is this: If any busy food place claims to be the king of anything, I have to eat there. In NY's Chinatown I ran across the Custard King and could not resist. It looked as if it had been there a long time and I doubted that such a grand claim made on a giant cartoon sign, could be entirely wrong.

In exchange for my 75 cents the clerk handed me the warm little bundle of custard. I knew it was going to be good from the way it tried to escape the flakey pastry as I carried it. I took a seat in the sun drenched window and lifted it to my mouth, careful to not crush the delicate shell. The aroma of warm vanilla custard filled my senses as I took the first bite. Oh...delicious. So delicous, I had to set it down and take the picture above. And then I ate two more even though I wasn't hungry. I just cannot help myself when I am face with culinary genius.

Two other notable food "Kings" are Taco King in Washington/Oregon and The Kebab King in Granada. I will certainly keep my eyes peeled for more food nobility to test this theory.