Tour of the Homeland, Part One: New York City

You guys.  This city.

There is literally nothing that I could say about New York City that hasn't already been said by authors and movie stars and artists far more profound and witty and articulate than I.  That said, I'm obviously going to write about it anyway, because, well, BECAUSE, okay?  So there.

I spent the first two weeks of my summer in Seattle, and don't worry -- I'll be writing about that fair city later, for sure.  But my past eleven days have been in New York, and I'm so overwhelmed with love for this place that I'm pretty sure that it won't fit inside my body.  Seriously, I think that it's not even actually possible for me to contain a feeling large enough for this city in my puny little skull; my skin feels full to bursting when I walk down the street, so full of joy and beauty am I.

(That bursting feeling might also be the chocolate peanut butter milkshakes.  Current tally:  8.  Maybe 9?)

I've lived here before.  I feel like I need to point that out, to show that my feelings for this place aren't just those of a starry-eyed newcomer.  What's more, I've been broke in this city -- not truly poor, but lower middle class for sure.  I lived on a budget of $30,000 for the year, including rent.  I know that to live in this city easily is expensive, and thus one requires a certain positive, dogged toughness if one is (for example) a broke-ass graduate student.  I don't care; I love it forever and always.

I got to experience some new neighborhoods this time, though.  One of my best friends recently moved to Crown Heights, so I got to explore it a little bit, walking past a mural for a dental office that "caters to cowards," an Islamic cultural center, and a store with fantastic socks (I bought the blue ones with orange lightning bolts).  Another of my good friends is working on the Upper East Side, a different world entirely, with an Armani Junior and "more florists than anywhere I've ever seen," according to her.  My usual wandering spots -- the Upper West Side and the Lower East Side -- have been well and truly wandered, and I'm about to dip my toe tentatively into the hell of Midtown.  Somehow, it's all New York.

And despite the truly disgusting heat, I think I love New York most in summer.  New York in extreme weather is hard to deal with, but people seem more likely to cut each other a little slack on the whole we-have-a-REPUTATION-to-uphold-here,-people thing when stepping outside feels like being wrapped in a damp towel. There's a warmth to the gruffness with which we interact.  Fashionable women wear flats and sacklike dresses, not slinky, picture-perfect suits.  Weariness reigns, but also a beautiful, overheated energy.  I wear no jewelry, what amounts to a dark green bag, and don't shave my legs, and no one notices or cares.  We're all just trying not to die.

Because you're constantly surrounded by people -- on all six sides!  Above (in buildings), below (in subways), and the usual west/south/north/east business -- you have to figure out a way to preserve your own space while acknowledging the space of those around you.  The result is a jumbling of worlds, one that leaves the lives of others sacrosanct while also allowing you a passive, reverent peek.  Construction workers yell instructions to each other, a shopowner bickers cheerfully with her landlord, a child sweet-talks his father into getting him "the blue one" from the ice cream truck, and a truck driver complains to his colleague about a parking ticket; you're not a part of any of these, not unless they invite you in, but you're allowed a glimpse.  And sometimes they do invite you in, and you grin and toss off a laughing response, and your heart feels tight, full of something you can't name.

Because yes, sometimes it's a surrounded-by-people-but-forever-alone thing.  But mostly, you can choose.  Mostly, if you have the energy -- and it does require energy -- you can wrestle this city into meeting you on your terms.  It's like Menelaus fighting Proteus, holding him as he shifted from an eagle to a flame to the human-speaking form who was able to give him the information he wanted.  It's not that you ever win the contest -- after all, you can't hurt a city -- but you can fight in order to get what you need.  And god, what a triumph, to wrestle New York City and not lose!