Thursday, July 8, 2010

Here I go again.

“39th and 3rd,” I request for the first time, but undoubtedly not the last, to a cabbie after midnight in Chinatown with a long, holiday weekend journey on the Fung Wah behind me (it’s also not the last time I’ll be disappointed when the Cash Cab doesn’t pick me up). I sleepily enter my new apartment building and am greeted by my cheerful night doorman (whose name I’m sure I’ll remember after a good night’s sleep), concerned that he had yet to know my name and welcomes me with more enthusiasm than I can reciprocate after a few long days. I chalk his cheery demeanor up to fighting off moonlight boredom until the daytime doorman, G (which is short for…? it was earlier than I’ve woken up in months…), greets me the next morning, making sure to get my name and remember that I’m not just a passing visitor. I know that I’ve got a few of the good ones looking out for me when G greets me by first name at the door after my first day of work (“See, I told you I’d remember, Kelly”). I guess I can’t pigeonhole all New Yorkers into the cold and unfriendly box that I’ve heard so many rumors about. I still hold out hope that I can break the ice and become good friends with New York City.

I made it in one piece, from the looks of it, although I think a little part of me may still be in Boston- for which I will be back for in January and may have to visit from time to time until my return. It’s not easy to up and leave just as I’m getting settled again, so soon after I high tailed it to another country for all of last fall. With this move 5,000 miles, an ocean, and a foreign language closer than my last, I anticipate a smoother transition and a higher frequency of familiar faces passing through to visit. While I may not be stumbling over French this time around, I fight an eternal struggle to be understood, and am hoping that sarcasm is better received than it was when it got lost in translation overseas. Although, I frequently expect to see the same puzzled and amazed faces at my often bizarre commentary (a reaction I’ve grown used to in any country).

I am still happy about by my decision to temporarily relocate for my co-op job. I chose my choice, and I’m sticking to it. I am feeling very in my element as I get to explore and experience a city for the first time again. There is too much that I look forward to for the next six months, but before I embark on NYC, there are the few things I will miss about Boston while I’m gone, and won’t be disappointed to get back to:

Dozen(s) of oysters at Neptune:  My favorite before hopping on the train to Rockport at North Station (much more enjoyed leisurely, but have been known to “throw back a few” in a time crunch).

An hour to stroll around Harvard Square:  Just enough time to get coffee at Crema, buy shoes at the Tannery, wander through the Bead store, grab a new white button-up at the Gap, pick up a sandwich at Cardullo’s and be back to work by 4 (except I’d love to skip the work part come January, and what in the world am I supposed to do with all these dirty white shirts?!)

Dinner at Toro:  Or should I say, walking by Toro once a week for six months, deciding the wait is too long, and eating everywhere else in the South End until finally getting Kristen in to eat some tapas for the first time a week before I left.

An early-ish last call:  Compared to NYC; spend less money, get more sleep.

Being close to home:  Nothing beats being an hour away from Mom. I don’t think my mom’s too upset about making visits to the city, but in the meantime I will have to look to my surrogate family network (luckily I have other moms accessible by the MTA until I get back to the MBTA).


p.s. Visitors welcome and encouraged. 
p.p.s. We have a queen sized air mattress for those who don't enjoy snugglefests.

cue Whitesnake music.

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