A European in New York City

Manhattan skyline from above, below, from the sea, from New Jersey. The cabs: yellow on the outside, white, black, indian and hispanic on the inside. The barber shops that increase in number with the poverty of the area. The buildings, shining on front, ugly and crumbling on the back. The works, always in progress. The jobless, the drunkards, the junkies. The junk left stinking on the streets and in the subway. The brick houses of Greenwich village. The small houses of Brooklyn. The Brooklyn bridge: why is it famous?

The sports bar full of people uninterested in sports. The hate for Boston Red Sox, but they play basketball, right? The Home runs at the Yankee Stadium. The Home runs in Central Park. Squirrels running in Central Park. People running in Central Park. People running everywhere in the city. The Italian restaurants run by Turkish.The Turkish restaurants run by Turkish. Yet another Dim Sum, yet another Starbucks. Tipping to someone who earns twice your salary. People in Wall Street that earn ten times your salary. The lone protester in Wall Street.

The gazillions of events, everywhere. The smells and sights and sounds of Harlem on a weekend afternoon. Malcom X and Bob Marley painted on the walls of Harlem. Pino Daniele playing at the Apollo Theater in Harlem. The lofts in Tribeca. The useless shops of Times square. The sophisticatedly useless shops of Soho. The sophisticated and witty plays in Broadway. Artists playing with Fashion and Art and continuously reinventing them, sometimes with terrible outcomes. The museum of Natural Science where you can touch fossils. The Christian Science Reading Room. The Madonna shrines in private gardens. The Gospels. The Jazz.

The crowd. Those working in shops and big food chains, of three kinds: the Rookies, that enthusiastically cheer you; the Depressed, that won’t even talk to you; the Friendly Resigned to their job. Those from the Bronx who speak like Al Pacino in Scarface or De Niro in Taxi Driver: “You talkin’ to me?”. Those who spend their holiday in mid-Manhattan. Those who spend their life in Harlem. Those who repeat you that “no other place has the same energy of NYC”. Those who think they have something to say about NYC and make a post out of it.

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