We came into Richmond, Va, just after 5 p.m., on our way to New York with a 5 hour layover. As we came into the station at Richmond, there was a group of people standing and staring at a huge television screen, broadcasting the news about the Free Tibet Olympic Torch demonstrations in SanFran. It was as if the world was about to stop! Really, it was just North American news style contrasted with our long stay in Costa Rica and organic farm stays since our return to North America.
After a while, I realized that we were on our way to Menla which is run by Tibet House. Our layover may sound like an inconvenience, but it gave us time, in daylight, to stretch our legs, download our photos at the library, refuel at the hfs (health food store), and stretch our legs again. While at the hfs, picked up the May 2008 Shambhala Sun (Buddhism, Culture, Meditation), Annual All Buddhist Teachings Issue. It looks like it might have several articles of interest and possible relevance to our new assignment. We’ll be helping out as they prepare for, and host, a ‘very friendly’ group of Hare Krishna. Michael, with whom we have been corresponding, will be meeting us in Phoenicia. We are sitting in a coffee shop in NYC Penn Station at 6:10 in the morning, having arrived at 5. Our bus will leave for Phoenicia at 9:30. If we wished to, we could pick up a bus headed for Kingston (en route) at 7 a.m. But, I think what we’ll do is head out into the city waking up…
New York is such a special place -- a particular mixture of racial and ethnic influences that have all prospered from their proximity with one another -- so many accents, such spirit and intensity and caring. I felt the New York vibe as soon as we entered the bus at Richmond. The bus was alive! Dave and I were separated and enjoyed our chats with our seat partners. My bus mate was a retired nurse who was traveling home from a family funeral in Georgia, was exhausted and could not imagine anything better than the moment when she turned the key on her apartment door. We loved eachother! Rosalie had a lot of wisdom to share and was my ideal listener as we chatted with ease, and shared stories of our lives together. She had worked the cotton fields in Georgia when she was young. I didn’t sleep much but enjoyed the ride as we drifted through D.C. at night (I recognized something in the placidity of the waters from G.B. Trudeau’s Doonesbury cartoons), a pit stop in Baltimore, and onto New York.
My brother was in NYC with my nephew and my sister in law at the end of March. I had just watched a video that our host, Barbara Trent had created with friend, Kenny, about the post 9/11 New York. Essentially it was a discussion about peace held in a war zone. She doesn’t find the title “Is War the Answer?" just right and welcomes ideas. Among other things, this film inspired me to want to come here (again). The next night, I received a call from my brother and his family -- they were in New York! It had been my nephew, Lewis’s, idea, and his parents had made it happen. (His older brother, Steven, was busy at med school, so had to stay home. Nice for the second child to have a chance to be the only one with the parents!) They took in some theater, and a variety of activities and my brother was delighted to discover that they could attend the opening game of the final season at Yankee Stadium. A dream come true, and the visiting team was to be the Toronto Blue Jays. Happy for them!
My New York was experienced more in my imagination than anything else. First, in anticipating the voyage through New York, and then, getting on the bus to New York at Richmond and instantly, feeling the New York vibe. I recalled the diverse ethnic groups that call New York home, and the varied accents of its long time natives. Chatting with my bus mate also brought back some of the New York feeling, and I recalled a certain joy which seemed to underlie the daily encounters of a diverse population. A mutually profitable mix of people. The intensity of New Yorkers also came to mind, and their willingness to state a point of view.
When we arrived in New York city, it was very early in the morning, and the rush hour was intense. People moved swiftly and surely, like missiles, almost, I thought in my sci fi imaginative style, over the pavement. There was not a moment’s hesitation in their steps, and very few even had their heads up. A few caught our eyes or exchanged a smile. A very few. It was not unpleasant, however, only somewhat denatured imho. I’m finding more and more that I am not a city gal anymore. I have little to no attraction for most cities at most times. Seeing 42nd avenue and its bright lights boasting its commercial enterprises was only going to consolidate my position. The concrete and neon and labour force in motion were hardly going to change my mind. After a short outing in which we vainly sought free wi fi, I was ready to go back to Penn Station and take our spot in the line up for the bus. We were third in line! We have never gotten into line so early before. What a relief. We were going to the country. I was ready for refuge from the commercially inflated city, while Dave, on the other hand, was not immune to the charms of NYC.
Perhaps if it were not so early in the morning after a sleepless night, it would have looked different to me, too.
