Night 2: Night out in Tannersville or Fixation Time

We knew that the plan for that night was to have drinks in Tannersville, another small picturesque village in the Catskills. What we did not know was the couple of colorful characters that we would meet!

Character #1: a golfer in his fifties started making conversation to us. Even if he did not say he was a golfer, you could tell he was one. He was fixated with us, and in apology for his fixation would buy us one round of drinks. And, a second one. He was clearly in need of making conversation, particularly sharing his frustration for been eliminated from a major golf tournament. He was desperately trying to get attention, which he was not getting much from me at least, though he was from the rest of the restaurant and from the bartender, concerned for his ethylic saturation. Finally, he left.

Character #2: a guy in his 40s-50s (yes, that type that you cannot tell the age!) fixated with me. He would not stop flirting with me (thinking that I was sola –which in spirit, I undoubtedly was) in an intellectual discussion, meshed with compliments and unsuccessful invites to get up and dance to Bossa Nova tunes that were playing live in this cozy upscale restaurant. I figured it was high time to engage the absent-spirit-and-present-body sitting by my side into this dialogue, and thankfully that saved me from persistently flirty unsolicited invites. Needless to say, the discussion now took a spin to the sheer intellectual side. Now it was hard for me to participate in this heated conversation that looked like an intellectual (ego?) competition ranging from non-mainstream books read to philosophy.

Until absent-spirit-and-present-body said as part of his philosophical insights: I am deeply unhappy. But in some way it is good: unhappiness can be a motivation to get out of it. To what I responded: It might, except if those living around you shall pay for it!

I stood up to go to the washroom, and left them both in that sequence of jaw-dropped turned into smile, and further compliments on my point from Mr Flirty.  I could see that with his facial expression and eyes he tried to get absent-spirit-present-body to join him in his Kudos.... naïf of him.

 

Itinerary of Day 2. Also included driving by Hunter, another typical village in the area.

Source: GoogleMaps.

Day 2: Village-hoping. Hike-hoping.

"My balcony" in New Paltz: view down into the valley and into the horizon. View from the ridge at the "secret spot" uphill, right after waking up and before starting the descend to leave NP.

"My balcony" in New Paltz: view to the "nose", landmark of NP. View from the ridge at the "secret spot" uphill, right after waking up and before starting the descend to leave NP.

Morning of village hoping. Fist stop: Woodstock. The legendary Woodstock. It is charming, however I must confess that probably over-marketed ( I was expecting something different) and “over-shoppized” (too many shops!). It hosts a number of Buddhist places. However the town overall seem to be living out of (exploiting?) the past, some very past past.

Next stop: Phoenicia. Tiny village with imposing name. In those bunch of blocks baptized Phoenicia, there is only one general store, if that gives you an idea.

Afternoon of a few failed hikes. The tricky issue with visiting this area at that time of the year is that there are still considerable patches of ice and of snow. After a couple of stops and attempts to start hikes, we finally found something doable for that time of the day: Kaaterskill Falls. The dual cascades total 260 feet (79 m) in height, making it one of the higher waterfalls in New York, and one of the Eastern United States' taller waterfalls. Waterfalls –regardless of their ranking in ‘tallest’ and ‘widest’ - are to me always awe-creating, hypnotizing, soothing and energizing. Mesmerizing for the eye, immediately transforming for the spirit.

I have a few months left in order to figure out how to live this life for the rest of my life: to enjoy this freedom, to enjoy the big city life, the quiet town homely life, the outdoors and Nature in it different variations of wilderness (from soothing beach to raw mountain) at my leisure, to have a ‘productive’ life and be able to escape to the meditation-inviting, unwinding, invigorating Nature according to my needs and not to a policy handbook.

Signs to Kaaterskill Falls. Photo Credit Wikimedia.

Kaaterskill Falls in the evening.

Night 1: A Buddhist Message in a Horoscope Bottle

From Chronogram Magazine 4-10.

The first night, in New Paltz, we were at this funky yet inviting coffee shop. I was ready to crash after the road-trip and the long intense hike, but we needed to wait for the battery to get charged. Even though I was offered a laptop, I did not have the energy to ‘connect’ with the world. I just knew I needed some quiet time. While having a decaf-nonfat-extra hot-vanilla latte, I started flipping through a local magazine. I stopped at the Horoscope section which seemed unusually vast, and was touched with what I read. I must confess that I am not a horoscope-follower, much less a believer. I read them occasionally out of fun and curiosity, only if I spare the time.

At that moment, I felt somehow identified. Now in perspective, I am baffled too. If you have been following the blog, you will be baffled too. And as time goes by from that night, my astonishment only increases. Timely revealing or sheer coincidence?

“Aries (March 20-April 19) You’re getting a lot of bold messages to be yourself, but you also seem to have way too many choices for who that self is. Beyond all the seemingly tangible possibilities is a chaotic realm where you simply don’t have the answer. Every time you seem to get a clue, something changes. We’re accustomed to plastering those unknowns over with labels and other assumptions, rather than leaving the question open. While a mystery like this can be uncomfortable to live with, I suggest you stay in a state of uncertainty for as long as you possibly can. Consider it a kind of meditation. Embrace the chaos of who you are, who you are not, and who you might be. This is designed to help you have greater access to your potential rather than pretending it doesn’t exist. At the moment far more is possible than you’re likely to be aware of. As the next two months progress, you’re going to get a taste of what this potential is; yet in order to have this potential be real you need to keep your mind open and make sure you’re ready to change, adapt, and go on a new adventure at all times. Stay loose. Notice the game of pretend that we’re all taught to play the moment we’re confronted with an unknown. Unknowns are your best friend right now, and I suggest you keep them near and dear to your heart.”


[by Eric Francis, Chronogram Magazine – 4/10]

A Weekend in the Mountains – Day 1

New Paltz! That adorable small town in the Gunks(*). Cozy, laid-back, bohemian and attractive toy town. The mere fact of arriving here winds you down. The cute one-of-a-kind shops on the short main strip, the slower overall pace, people’s friendliness, the large proportion of students and of climbers.

After a longer than expected drive, all I wanted was to get my body moving and out of the car! So we went for a hike. One hour into the expedition and our energies had already changed for better- we swapped trip fatigue/tension for physical fatigue and the magical effects of endorphins. It was a four-hour hike to Minnewaska Lake, including brisk walk through medium strenuous terrain and forests, and going down a small gorge to cross a rock-bedded stream of ice cold water - barefoot in chilly weather. Because they were repairing the trail leading to the lake, and because we wanted to get to the lake, this seemed the only way.

The Minnewaska lake is part of the Minnewaska State Park Preserve, a 8500 ha preserve on the Gunks. It is one of the three sky lakes within this preserve –together with Lake Awosting and Mud Pond. It is a mile long by a quarter-mile. There was a thin layer of ice melting in one end of the lake, so thin that it seemed transparent, like a solid massive spider web on the water.

Unfortunately the sun was about to set soon, so we could not stay longer in ‘paradise’, the flat stone beach of Minnewaska lake.

Ah, yes. When in life we are running too intensely, that ice cold water is so replenishing and welcomed by our system, as counterintuitive as it may seem to us.

Ah, yes. Sometimes when we want something so badly, it does not matter if the trail is shut down, we will do what it takes to get to our destination.

(*) The Shawagunks (aka, the Gunks) is the Northern end of a long ridge within the Appalachian Mountains that begins in Virginia.

Afternoon Sun on Minnewaska Lake.

Paradise. Or flatstone beach on Minnewaska Lake.

Ice melting on a tip of Minnewaska Lake.

A Vacation from Vacation?

After spending a few weeks in Clinton Hill, a long weekend was coming up. Perfect for a getaway. Perfect to run to the venerable Catskills and to the endearing New Paltz, my dear New Paltz. The weather was getting warmer too.

Jumping on a car for a road trip and just driving away gives that sense of liberation, of escape, of leaving all behind -even if we have to come back to that ‘all’ in a few days and we know so. Such a thrill from such a simple thing. When the first higher mounts start popping up in the landscape, it is sheer exhilaration. Like a child seeing Disney’s castle for the first time- or more.

Why did I need this? Had I got too much used to the non-routine and was now ‘stuck’ in the city rut? Was I getting into the ‘used to it’ after only a few weeks in the same place? If this is what I needed: some stability to be able to move on with other aspects of my life. Although I was ‘technically’ on vacation, I was doing some other chores that kept my days busy and even short; still, the overall mode was ‘vacation’. Did I need a vacation from the vacation?

What happens when we have a job then? If even while on vacation we bump into that need for a change of environment, then it is not just work itself that makes us ‘tired’ but also the space, the routine or lack of.

From Brooklyn to New Paltz. ~By GoogleMaps.

Condo-Fishing 14: Condo Fished.

It was a voicemail message from Faith: the flat is yours if you still want it, so please give me a call at your convenience. I was in ecstasy, I was so happy, would not stop laughing, and saying ‘thank you’ to the sky with all my energy. I had that feeling that I could not confess -maybe shielding, just in case-…. that it would happen. I had that humble inner assurance, inexplicable, untellable.
The fishing mission was over. Time to relax, enjoy and celebrate!

Actually, not. The condo-fishing was over, and now Faith’s game was on. She had pumped up the price. Amen. She had postponed the date for getting back to us with the most unbelievable excuses. Amen. She was now postponing our date for moving in. Amen –which meant more scrambling with accommodation for us: lodging in three different places over a four-night period. The culprit of her diva-like sudden changes of mind was towards the actual closing. I started to think if she was taking things personally. It also seemed that she was a master of double-standards: she had every right, and we had none but the only obligation to say Amen to her. We eventually signed. But, until the very last minute we moved in, she kept playing us. We had to wait six hours to get into the apartment. And once we got in, she could not find some paper, so she stayed over for an hour or so. Ah… when someone wants something and has no better alternative. And when the other party knows so, and takes advantage of this, not only setting the rules but also changing them at his or her highest convenience.

Faith’s blunt lesson was when negotiating the way of payment, challenging any ‘market practice’, challenging any paradigm: “I am the one setting the rules, because I am the one offering my place to rent. You take it or leave it.” She had pushed every situation to the limit. It was risky on her side, since this was a renters’ market. Although she knew how much we wanted her place, we also knew that we were her favorites amongst the trio of candidates. We could have got fed up and dumped the negotiations, or we could have found another decent place.

What if we had that attitude for all in life? Of course, laws of supply-and-demand permitting…. And with some inside information about your counterparty!

Condo-Fishing 13: Mystifying Peace

The day before Faith’s answer was due, I woke up in a state of infinite peace, with a certainty that the future would get sorted out, with an elevated perspective. Suddenly the latent frustration and restlessness from unsuccessful, never-ending condo-fishing was gone. Although I was pleased to be in this sudden state, it was at the same time somehow unsettling, since my mind could find no reason for this change in energy.

That night I was sleeping, when I woke up in the middle of the night, excited and in peace, in that state where you are unable to distinguish which reality is the dream. While sleeping, I saw the saint after which I am named (she is popular in the US and I have seen plenty of statues of her)- she was in a dark space, but her face was glowing- I know she has been portrayed as a woman of beautiful facial factions, but now she was more glowing than ever. She was just smiling with so much sweetness and compassion that it was as if her smile would talk to me or touch me. But she said or did nothing, just smiling and looking at me in my eyes. It was such a powerful, real-like dream. It took me some time to go back to sleep, mainly trying to understand what had happened, where I was… If I had gone to bed in peace, now peace was so dominant that it was narcotic. What my mind to this day cannot understand is where that came from. Although I had seen images of this saint in previous visits to the US (all of them surprise encounters), I had not seen her during this visit. I was perplexed. I am perplexed.

If the day before I was in peace, this day was inexplicable: a fuller, higher, steadier, imperturbable state. As if my whole being had been taken over by peace, from breathing to every single action.

In the meantime and while Faith kept postponing her answer with unbelievable excuses, a promising place in Rego Park had just become available. We were only thirty minutes away so we rushed to see it. It was like living in any suburbia of any other country: close to a highway, close to a massive mall, close to the airport. Nothing like our candidate in Clinton Hill. Although the lobby looked surprisingly pleasant and spotlessly clean, the big shocker was waiting for us upstairs: the owner, an Indian girl in her late twenties was moving out. On top of the usually expected, pre-moving mess, there were pots of food and left-overs in every room on every surface other than the floor. These were temporary conditions of the place, however location was a bummer. On our way back, we had started to discuss alternative ideas -even camping, when my lazy cell-phone advised that I had a message.

Condo-Fishing 12: Sculpting Fate with Faith

I could sense Faith’s mix of concern and of fear of renting out her own place for the very first time, while she was openly playing us with invented -or not- potentially better candidates. Regardless of her games and other questionable attitudes, this was the place we liked. I could totally see myself living there. To a point, it was better than the Upper West Side because of the character, the down-to-earthness, the homely feeling.

I started balanced-walking on that thin and fragile hanging-line of transmitting desire without showing desperation, visualizing myself doing my daily activities in each room, without attaching to this idea, having hope without resting in the laurels.

So I e-mailed Faith sharing with her how I would enjoy her flat, how I could see myself there, cooking, meditating, doing yoga, writing, reading. In that peaceful, harmonious, sun-filled, lively and livable space.

The perspective of continuing the search, spending long hours on the internet, long hours sending e-mails and on the phone coordinating visits, longer hours in the grey, lifeless, monotonous subway just made me visualize with more fervor: I continued visualizing myself in that flat, signing the contract, moving in there. At the same time, in view of the circumstances, I was starting to consider alternatives to finding a flat to live; even camping started to appear more appealing and realistic than this condo-hunting, energy and time consuming, fruitless plan.

Condo-Fishing 11: What you Like the Least: a Launcher for what you Want the Most?

Ninth day of the condo-fishing campaign.

Ninth day of long hours on the internet, long hours sending e-mails and on the phone coordinating visits.
Ninth day of longer hours on the gray, lifeless, monotonous subway. The tedious subway rides: people sleeping as if they were about to collapse, people eating as if there was no tomorrow, people showing that dullness on their faces as if this could be an outlet for such grayness. It seems like a competition for shutting down to the rest of the world (or rather, sub-world) as much as possible: people sinking in their books or whatever reading material, people drowned in their crosswords and sudokus, people plugged to their IPods and electronic games, people talking out loud mindless of those around them –as if the louder they spoke the number they became.
An image came to me, of my early days in Toronto and one of my first calls on mindfulness, although I did not know it was called like that. I was meeting with a close friend of mine and his brother for dinner. A Polish guy who was in university and working as a model: he would eat each grape slowly, as if each one was a precious elixir about to be savored, the very last elixir available in this world. This was a sheer contrast with his brother –my friend- who would be gulping food as if he was trying to fill up a bottomless tank. I remember this contrast to date.
This underground world reminds me of such contrast: go fast and if you hit-and-run, run faster…. Compassionate who? Mindful who? Breathing fast, talking fast, eating fast, breathing mindlessly, talking mindlessly, eating mindlessly. Do the most that you can fast and mindlessly, and maybe like that you can become unaware of the tediousness around you, maybe this is a visa to get faster out of here. I see this with some people close to me, too, even if they are in no subway. I cannot tell if they act like that because they are eluding us (sorry for them) or because they are actually like that: in a permanent hurry (even sorrier for them).
I don’t want that life or to go back to that. I know I was there at one point in my life, going at 100 km per second. I was studying, working, going out, and I was excelling at everything- but, I don’t want that.
Never to me had this contrast of worlds been so apparent and so unbearable, not even in my days of commuting in Toronto. Maybe because I was one of those people in desperate race for shutting down to the sub-world. Maybe because I was one of those people trying to get numbed by doing as much as I could, as fast as I could.
I think as I discussed today, I don’t need this city- maybe we’d go to Montenegro and live in the mountains. I think I could do that; I can see myself there. I think I can. I definitely stand cities less and less. Last night I could not sleep because of excessive noise: trucks, helicopters, airplanes, trucks again fixing the road or collecting garbage. I don’t want to be like the people I see in the subway, or like those numbed smile-less on the fast-track to nowhere.

Condo-Fishing 10: Faith in Faith

Faith’s flat was on a street of all houses and trees, just a couple of blocks away from two subway stations, streets away from one of the areas with cute restaurants, a block away from the famous Fulton street –although in these latitudes it had dropped most of its negativity and sheer colorfulness was what it offered.

She would come downstairs to greet us. Her shock was apparent when she saw we are Caucasians; I dare say that there were some frozen seconds in her introductory act. Ironically we were not surprised to see she was Afro-American.

Her flat, a second floor of one of those walk-up brownstone houses, was spacious and quiet. Lots of windows, nice enough decoration that made us feel ‘at home’. The rooms had the perfect balance between enough furniture to be functional and feel comfortable, and enough free space. There were two fireplaces -one in the living room and one in the main bedroom- which added a touch of coziness, even if they were out of use now. The bathroom was huge, its floor covered with tiny mosaics in different shades of blue. There was an additional room that could be used as studio or work-out room. The living room had a large comfortable sofa in a soft fabric, an armchair and a couple of poufs. There was no dining area, but the living room was large and comfortable enough, with sufficient sitting space. The kitchen was tiny and there was no way to make up for this. However it seemed to be functional enough for us.

We spent easily an hour talking to her, telling her about us and how much we would like to rent her place. However, she said that response from her posting had exceeded her expectations, and she would be showing her place to at least two other people on Sunday. She would get back to us on Monday. Faith also advised that because of the demand she was getting, she had decided to pump up the price by $200.-; we agreed since it was still within our budget, and we wanted this place!

And Faith’s game had only started. On Sunday, she sent a message saying that she would get back to us in further 48 hours instead.

Typical row of walk-up, brownstone houses in Brooklyn, NY.

Photo Credit: WFinch.

Condo-Fishing 9: Brooklyn’s Call. Again.

St. Frances Xavier Church -                         Church in Clinton Hill.                      Queen of All Saints Church, Clinton Hill.

  Brooklyn, NY. Photo Credit: Jim Henderson          Brooklyn, NY.                                    Brooklyn, NY. Photo Credit: nycago.org

A sunny pleasant Saturday afternoon I had three condos waiting for my visit in Brooklyn, the last one being Faith’s place.

The first stop was a house in Boerum Hill. The owner, an eclectic, overly gentlemanly artist married to an Argentine dancer, seemed to like us: he was making endless conversation and persistently invited us to sit down or go to the backyard or have something to drink. His interesting character-like personality and the awesome location could not make up for the unrelenting smell in the house- as if they had not washed any fabrics in quite some time. Needless to say, we were ready to go to our second appointment, in Clinton Hill/Fort Greene area.

This area was not quite like the fried-chicken zone, yet neither like Boerum Hill. After waiting for twenty minutes and making unanswered phone calls, no one showed up to show us the unit. Although the photos I had seen from inside were attractive, the neighbourhood was nothing to hold my breath for. We walked to Hope’s place which was about ten blocks from the no-show. We could see as we approached Hope’s place how the area was transforming again, for good.

I was tired from subway hoping, which coupled with the condo-fishing roller-coaster can be quite a mix. And the clock ticking. Those moments when you wish that the principle that time and space are ‘relative concepts’ and ‘mental constructions’, were more massively embraced and more practically applied, other than in Physics and in Buddhism.

We were about half an hour ahead of our appointment with Faith so we decided to explore the neighbourhood. A strongly residential area, with walk-up houses, trees, a few parks and a massive church every other block –temples of all architectural styles and of all religions (*). A few spots where one-of-a-kind restaurants and coffee-shops were concentrated, most of them with outdoor patios. People of all ages, religions and ethnicities on the streets, with a majority of young couples with kids. Two parks within walking distance: Fort Greene Park overlooking Manhattan from the top of a hill and Prospect Park, which felt like being transported to France or yes, to Buenos Aires, with its massive extension and it impressive monuments escorting the entrance to this green field. Other than the Columbia flat in the Upper West Side, this was the best location we had been to. The vibe of the neighbourhood was a perfect mix between lively and quiet, exciting and down-to-earth.

The third time's a charm?

Prospect Park- Grand Army Plaza.

Photo Credit: R. Kessler.

(*) I later learnt that Brooklyn is called "the city of churches".

Condo-Fishing 8: A Step Closer to Pan B

After visiting another condo in the posh and plagued-by-Europeans Lower East Side, I had scheduled to see two places in Brooklyn - of course far from the ‘fried-chicken’ area. We needed to keep our options open, and not until we found something suitable or until we arrived to the ‘sick-and-tired’ tipping point we would stop fishing –whatever happened first.

The LES place was well located, close to a park, on the top floor of a walk-up, brownstone house. Although by the vibe of the building inside it seemed we were in a ghetto place, the tenant was a German, apparently well-rounded painter in his forties, single father of a toddler. They would be off to Europe for a few weeks. It was a long, rectangular loft, with all walls covered with his colorful art pieces. It was very basic. I could see myself there. Maybe because of the unorthodox setting, maybe because I knew it was only for one month, maybe because I was getting closer to that tipping point. I was surprised when I spotted on his crowded desk an oversized picture frame with Osho on it: our conversation took a turn to this immediately. He was also shocked by and in disbelief of the events of February.

In spite of my everlasting openness, I soon listened: “There is no sitting area in the living room. And would you sleep in that space? (the ‘bedroom’ was a square carved inside a wall, just enough for the mattress- imagine Zen meets train) I think it is overpriced; offer him 25% less.”

Very much in time, after my disenchanted enchantment, Faith, the woman from Brooklyn I had been corresponding with called me to arrange a visit to her place.

Another reason why this is truly condo ‘fishing’? Fishermen cannot get over-excited whenever they feel something pulling the string; it can be junk or seaweed and not necessarily a fish biting in. They have to remain calm, grounded, yet fully aware of what is going on with the fishing rod, and prepared to pull the string to bring the catch in a timely manner. Meditation is said to be like fishing. Let me tell you that condo-fishing, too.

Orchard Street –Lower East Side, NY

Photo Credit: About.com

Condo-Fishing 7: Brooklyn Tutorial

This place was just as on the pictures: an old flat at the top floor, with a mix of antique furniture -mainly Luis XV- with silk in bright colors. Funky. The building and area looked very quiet. On our way back to the subway, we bumped into a couple of Asian women, who we agreed to consider as ‘bingo’ towards the bet. That was it.

After Brooklyn-fried-chicken experience, we got off the subway a few stops later and closer to Manhattan yet still in Brooklyn; they were keen on sculpting a fuller impression of Brooklyn on me. This Brooklyn was an absolutely different –maybe even opposite- world: young professionals, young families, middle-aged couples, lots of students of all colours and religions, liveliness, right mix of commercial and residential, of mainstream stores and unique boutiques. And a ‘positive sign’: there was a Starbucks!

By now it seemed that the best that we could get was having a nice place in the wrong neighbourhood, or having an unacceptable place in an acceptable neighbourhood. Until Brooklyn knocked at my door, again.


Lesson 1: Having the right target in the wrong place is just as having missed your target.
Lesson 2: The target might have passed all the tests, but it is only the live visit that provides the final verdict regarding the ‘right or wrong fit’.
Lesson 3: You can have the same word branding the most terrible and the loveliest places; you would think it is a synonym, but it is being used actually for antonyms.
Lesson 4: In your desire for achieving your goal, you can become very flexible in your path towards that goal. What is your limit for flexibility? When are you trading in your personality and/or values in pursuit of your goal?

Condo-Fishing 6: Brooklyn’s Call

And Karen?
We agreed that I would drop it.

And Brooklyn (see ‘Condo-Fishing 3’)?
Brooklyn’s first call was to visit an unorthodox flat in a walk-up brownstone house, on one of those residential streets with just lines of cute houses and old trees. The flat looked good on photos, and it seemed to be passing all the other tests incorporated in the hard learnt fishing lessons.

After a long commute we arrived at the subway station on Fulton Street, where every other store was a fried-chicken place, mingled with some ‘mom-and-pop’ dollar-store or ethnic clothing shop. Characters in this part of Fulton included: a few people eagerly shouting -some of them just seemed to be mad at the air-, a few bling-bling individuals of all sizes and shades walking to some kind of mute beat, and policemen almost on every block. The air appeared overcrowded despite the seasonal crispiness: a lot of fried-chicken aroma mixed with cheap yet strong, sneeze-provoking perfumes. Once off Fulton, peace came to all my senses. Suddenly the scenery changed although not completely.
“Do you feel safe walking here?” And in my naturally reactive boldness, enhanced by my freshly revamped Zen spirit of acceptance, I smiled “YES! Why?!” “Would you come walking all these blocks to this place by yourself, in the evening or as soon as it gets dark?” “Yes…” “How many Caucasians do you see on the streets?” “None. And so?” “How many blond girls do you see on the streets?” “None! But I do not feel unsafe!” “Let’s make a bet: the first one who sees a Caucasian, pays a coffee. And the first one who sees a blonde, pays a meal.” “OK!” Fifteen minutes browsing those streets had gone by and the bet was still open. Nada.

From Long Island City, NY to Brooklyn: 40-minute commute in theory, about 60 in reality.

Source: GoogleMaps.

Condo-Fishing 5: Diamond at the Price of Zirconia

And while living in Long Island City, after moving out of Inwood, this circumstantially adopted, unwillingly over-prolonged sport of essential fishing took us back to Inwood. The irresistible bite was this ad: “True diamond at the price of zirconia.” The woman said she did not have a camera to send us pictures but we could visit it that same day. And so we did.


The building was on a noisy avenue, by some kind of ‘mom-and-pop’ yet apparently popular church, in an area of Inwood that seemed like the heart of the Latino community. The building was also clearly busy: young women and their kids, teen-agers and young men that were ‘produced’ as if they were extras from the latest rap or regetton video. On the way to this unit, I have had more than a full meal, out of the different smells flowing into the common areas. To our surprise this middle-aged woman came walking out of her place towards the elevator to greet us. Nice gesture. Until she licked one by one her fingers and offered her very well licked hand for a hand-shake! My neurons were scrambling looking for alternatives for not shaking hands, and I could feel my hand almost sucked to my side and pulling back on its way for that unavoidable shake.

If the corridors were the food department, we had now arrived at the pet-shop! I would have had a hard time telling what scent of those was the strongest. Although the flat was bright, on a high floor, with a picturesque view of the hills of one of the lovely parks and would allow enjoying sunsets, unfortunately the place was not even a zirconia! She invited us to sit down while continuing chatting, but I was ready to run away! Even much so when I saw the thick film of dust on every single surface where my eyes would rest. We would need to hire a professional cleaning army before moving here- and be ready to give them a waiver for guaranteed results!

And Karen? She rescheduled the appointment, again. Does she really want to rent the place? Is this a scam?

Lesson 1: Do not visit places without first having seen photos, no matter how sensitive the justification for not having pictures may sound and no matter how many carats this diamond may be.
Lesson 2: Beware of false advertising, unless you are willing to adapt wasting time and energy as your new hobby.
Lesson 3: Beware of the Karens of the world, unless you are willing to adapt wasting time and energy as your new hobby, or wake up with fleas! (yes, a few alternative paths take you to the same destination).

Lesson for Landlords: Beware of false advertising; you are creating unrealistic expectations and scaring away potential business. Infallible recipe if your goal is burning bridges.

From Long Island City to Inwood. 40 minutes 'in theory'; over 60 in reality. Source: GoogleMaps

Condo-Fishing 4: Going Zen

Our criterion was so wide that it took us to Jersey City, New Jersey. This is the quiet, little jewel across Southern Manhattan, on the West side of the Hudson River. Jersey City offers undoubtedly one of the best balconies to Manhattan: you enjoy the panoramic views of the island without the craziness and noise of being right in the midst of it. There are plenty of benches to enjoy this low-profile on-going show from up the cliff. Or you can go all the way down to the ferry station and delight yourself in these views while sipping a hot tea by the river. During non-rush hours, the ferry terminal is quiet, so much that you can achieve almost meditative state.

This condo was only fifteen minutes by bus from Port Authority Bus Station. It was a totally refurbished, very pleasant unit in an old building. The owner’s concept of “partially furnished” was a bed and a sofa. There was an armoire but she would take it away. Even if we would have accepted to live in this visually ‘zen’ place, what was far from ‘zen’ was the silence –or lack of. “What’s that noise?” “What noise? I don’t hear any noise”, said the man who was showing it to us. After insisting in disbelief for minutes, he reluctantly admitted that it was the heater: a massive tank that was in the backyard, just under the bedroom window!

And Karen? No news. We were anyway busy enough pursuing alternative moving targets.

Lesson 1: Ask if the place has no noise from any type (either internal or external). Lesson 2: Make sure that definitions and statements are in the same language: usually a ‘partially furnished’ for a landlord means a ‘non-furnished’ for a tenant!

From Inwood to NJC, NJ: 80 minutes. PortAuthority to NJC, NJ: 15 minutes.

Source: GoogleMaps.

Condo-Fishing 3: Dominican Republic around the corner of Siberia

As in wildlife where the animals migrate from one zone to the other, in NY the scenery also changes because of this migration factor, which in turn depends largely on the financial fate of the city. Neighbourhoods that would have been unthinkable of living in a few years ago are now invaded by young professionals. Areas that until a few decades ago were restricted to specific ethnic or religious groups are now invaded also by young professionals of all colors and beliefs. This dissemination was in part caused by prices in certain neighbourhoods of Manhattan skyrocketing in what seemed an endless spiral up, while salaries of some New Yorkers were frozen, cut back, or simply evaporated. Thanks to this reshuffling of neighbourhoods, our map for searching places was quite broad, and there were only a few areas totally blacked out from our fishing.

This flexibility of criteria and openness to accept took us to visit places that I had only seen in movies or music videos: the questionable part of Brooklyn and all of Harlem. Harlem had a strong offer. One place was acceptable in terms of space, but the area was quite depressing: sheer grey, just the opposite of the Spanish place at Columbia. The photos from this flat looked fine, but just as if they were taken with a poor camera or in poor lighting. Have you ever been to an Eastern country post some chemical devastation? I haven’t, but I figured that this is how it would look and feel like. After walking down the Latino area of Harlem, where all you listen is Central American Spanish and regeton booming out from every store and car, we came to visit a very fine modern unit on a decent street of Harlem. It looked like brand new. The only questionable aspect was that it was on the same block as the police station (great protection, but maybe too noisy?). This lady who was showing the place handed in her business card. She was a realtor, and although the rent was within budget, her fee was outrageous. If we do not ask, we would have come to the date of closing and found out on the spot about her hefty fees? Do people really think that they can get away with these games, particularly in a renters’ market, and in the low season?

Karen had sent an email apologizing for her forgetfulness and suggesting rescheduling for the following week.

Lesson 1: If on photos something does not look fantastic, it is probably not because of the photo or the camera technicalities, but just because of the place itself! Lesson 2: If something seems too good to be true, it is probably because it is not true!

Condo-Fishing 2: Welcome to the Jungle

During those days of continuous condo-fishing while waiting for the Spanish couple’s response, we were browsing NY in all directions (I will call it ‘fishing’ since we had to ‘pursue, capture and release’ our target, release it once the lease would be over).

Karen from Inwood would show us her place that evening, and would call me in the afternoon to confirm.

It seems that in NY, half the people are very much ‘Swiss’ in terms of punctuality, and half the people are very much the opposite; and you never know until you are meeting with one or the other. The whole subway grid was under major maintenance work. Although I would religiously check their website for scheduled service interruption and alternative routes, it seemed that there was at least once a week an unscheduled event that I would have to ‘endure’. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the last stop of this train as ‘express service’. This train will then be stopping at every station.” “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the last stop of this train running as “C”; from next stop on, it will make the “V” train route, again, it will run like the “V” train.” Needless to say these unscheduled changes would take place on my way to an appointment with a “Swiss” New Yorker! Of course, and just to add to the stress, there is no reception underground –at least for my super basic cell phone-, and that meant I was swallowed by the big black hole for hours and would come out to the bright surface with a few TXT in desperation, which would incidentally pop out at their own leisure.

Just to top it up, I later learnt from a friend who has been living in Manhattan for a while, that New Yorkers deem as unacceptable giving ‘the subway’ as justification for one’s delay!

Karen never called or answered my e-mails, voicemails and TXTs.

Lesson 1: Even in the US, even in the capital of the world, always plan and allow for the unexpected. Lesson 2: Even in the US, Murphy’s Law applies, just like a Physics law- you can never get away from it, regardless of your geographic location.

Condo-Hunting (1): A Promising Start

After seeing only a few places we found this very decent unit within Columbia University Campus, in the Upper West Side; incredible location at an even more incredible price. The tenants were a Spanish couple who would be leaving on a 3-week trip and wanted to sub-lease their place. We clicked right away, we were all ready to close immediately, however Tomas the tenant told us that he had to run some paperwork through the university. This was the only requirement from the University to have subtenants in their premises. The following day I took Tomas all the documentation that he had requested; he was impressed. Although I truly liked this place, its luminosity, its quietness -in spite of being so centrally located-, its location, I had a hunch that these guys were not very sure of what they were doing.

A few days later, we learnt that Tomas had made a mistake in the procedure: he had filed the request for the authorization at the University office instead of at the School office, who would take anywhere between 3 and 7 days to reply (i.e., they would be already on their trip). This means that they had lost the opportunity of subletting their apartment, and we had lost a gem. They did not want to try some other way around.

During those days of waiting for their response, the hunting (or fishing?)* continued. I realized why, in English, looking for a place to live is referred to as ‘hunting’; we were just starting to experience the elusiveness of our target in the NY wildlife!


Lesson 1: Lie down with dogs and you wake up with fleas (or in Spanish, el que con chicos se acuesta, mojado amanece). Lesson 2: Listen to your hunch!! What are you waiting for?


* “Hunting is the practice of pursuing living animals (usually wildlife) for food, recreation, or trade. Hunting advocates state that hunting can be a necessary component of modern wildlife management. The pursuit, capture and release, or capture for food of fish is called fishing, which is not commonly categorized as a form of hunting. The aspects of skillful tracking and acquisition of an elusive target in the pursuit of game have caused the word hunting to be used the vernacular as a metaphor.” [From www.wikipedia.org]


NOTE: All names in this blog have been changed, unless explicitly noted and with the incumbent’s authorization.

(Alien) Expectations and False Advertising

After a series of developments, the decision was to stay for at least another month in NYC. I embarked in a project that seemed easy considering the excessive supply, overall economic conditions of the city, and my past experience in multiple locations: condo-hunting!

Are these people delusional when providing with descriptions of their nests, or are they deliberately over-selling? How can people live actually in those places? Some of them looked like “normal people”. I mean, if you met them on the street, you would never tell that they live in a filthy, or smelly or depressing place!

At first, arranging condo visits was an exciting and promising task… after a few days of searching on line, spending more hours than anyone would want to on the internet corresponding emails, and on the phone and of course on the subway, it seemed as promising and exciting as looking for a needle in a haystack, with a clock in the countdown. So many mini-dreams -particularly after seeing photos and agreeing on the price and dates-, quickly turned into mini-disappointments after each visit.

Communication! That deserves a paragraph by itself. Do people know how to communicate with the rest of the world or are they intentionally evading my very specific questions (reader-friendly short and sweet questions, listed in bullet points)? OK! I was so spoiled, coming from the corporate world where I was the one asking the questions (because of my job) and where not answering is a sign of weakness or at least a brow-riser.

Expectations! Isn’t life easier with fewer expectations? However, many times we become victims of false advertising, of misleading communication. How many times, we go with an open mind and no expectations (like I was condo hunting), but we get influenced in between (like by the owner commending the beauties of his/her place) and voila: expectation created even without us knowing, inviting it or feeding it. And frustration arises when we realize that the truth will not meet our expectation, even if it is an alien expectation in us.

“I don’t know where my likes and dislikes actually really lead me to but one thing is certain: in order to truly by surrounded by what I like and avoid what I don’t like, I always need to not have likes and dislikes, and just accept.”


[From “IF NOT NOW, WHEN?” by Tsem Tulku Rinpoche, www.kechara.com. Kechara is a non-profit Buddhist organization.]

Discovery Times in NYC

As hard as it may be to believe, my days in NY did qualify for making it to “Gypsy’s Bang” (please see my caveats in the first blog entry, in January): they were neither the typical touristy days, nor the typical “Sex-&-The-City” glam days. And overall it was an eye-opening, spirit enduring experience at multiple levels.

In terms of the city, a entirely different New York was revealed to me: so different from the New York I had experienced in my previous visits where I had been pampered as a daughter or as a girlfriend, in one way or another. If Inwood was already something unlike my known NYC, it was just a sample. I not only discovered neighborhoods unknown even for many New Yorkers, but also the almost unbearable underground world (aka, the subway). Do not get me wrong; I was an avid commuter in Toronto’s subway, and I have used it in any city I have been visiting or living –as long as I am not mortgaging my life in pro of adventure or convenience: from Buenos Aires, to Madrid and Athens. But, I have never seen the sadness and grayness I experienced in my long and frequent rides, at all times of the day, in all possible directions within this island, and into and out of it!

In terms of life, I also discovered a number of new, unexpected facts – perplexing and painful, though in hindsight probably positive for me. But, I will leave this for another opportunity…. Maybe a totally different blog, or later on, on this one! Please do not even think that this is to keep you hooked. It is just that I need to earn that ‘hindsight’ and be ready to share with you.

However, on the flipside, I discovered many things about myself too, and most importantly I realized in flesh and spirit who are those who stand by me and love me unconditionally.

“Solutions gotta find a way
Yes I know, nothing ever dies
Everything that’s true will survive
It’s just changing form, day to day
Everything was true it’s bound to see.”


[From the song “Everything” by Radio Citizen feat. Bajka]

Persistence VS. Letting Go

How do we know when to let go and when to persist? How do we know if it is just another obstacle on the road to endure our spirit, or if it is a sign, or yet another sign that we must detour? When shall “Knock, and it shall be opened” be our mantra, and when shall “Go as a river” be our mantra?

Are we in the non-Far-East hard-wired to persist no matter what and to perceive a change of plans as a defeat? Do we see a change of plans as proof of poor decision-making or as a sign of wise eye and resilient muscle? In our society, we listen to a number of proverbs, sayings and quotes reinforcing perseverance: “Persevere and you will succeed”, “If you don’t cry, you don’t get fed” (popular Argentine proverb- not only referring to the fact of voicing your needs, but that a baby probably needs to cry a few times until the mother gets the message), “Pleading to God and persisting” (Argentine saying), “Knock, and it shall be opened” (Jesus Christ*). However, Catholicism also has it’s own ‘let go’ message–it is more of a religious spin than philosophical-psychological; yet same result: acceptance. Trust in God, even when we cannot understand or see the logic.

It is easy to write now. It is difficult for me, when you are in one of those situations, when you have to make that type of decision. In addition, you are probably biased towards continue trying if it is something that you really wanted, or where you have some vested interest.

As pressing as time can feel for making the opportune decision (my ticket was non-refundable and the flight was in less than a week!), time also gives us the gift of perspective when we look back. Hopefully later on, in hindsight –just as I had experienced in other plan-changing decisions-, I get confirmation that it was the best to do.

(*) From the Gospel of Matthew, ch 7, v 7-8. “Ask and you shall receive, seek and you shall find, Knock and it shall be opened. For everyone who asks gets, and he who seeks finds and to him who knocks, the door is opened.”



"When someone can forget his intentions and want nothing… the door opens by itself to him.” (Michael Ende, The Neverending Story)

Hushed Hunch?

I started looking at the whole situation from a larger perspective too. Was that the hunch I was feeling while still in Buenos Aires, pushing me to go on one hand and holding me back on the other hand? Was that why I had waited in Buenos Aires until the last minute to get my visa and vaccinations, even though I was so excited about this trip?

I had invested so much time and energy, and some money into this dream. For months I had done tons of research. For months I had not only resisted the steady opposition of some family, but also steadily tried to explain to them my reasons for going, provided them with enough information to help them feel at more ease, and listened to further concerns of dear ones in support of my family’s. I saw all these as obstacles, against which I was persistently fighting to achieve my goal. However, when I read the news, I saw this as a quite clear sign that I should maybe let go; as sad as it can be to abort a plan.

My puzzlement only lasted for those minutes of indecision. Then, I was back in peace: satisfied with the two-fold decision made of not going to India and of staying longer in NY, betting on some other kind of venture. Yet, equally personal, equally at the top of my priority list, venture I would embrace with equally candid, open and devoted spirit.

"Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me." (Carl Sandburg, American poet)

Go as a River

Actually fate popped up at my e-mail account. On Sunday, after waking up from a deep and restoring siesta, I was catching up on my e-mail, which had gone mute for over one week. A friend of mine who was going to coincide with me in India had sent three e-mails asking if I was still going. What had I missed in that week for her to be asking such mysterious question, so persistently? The tone and frequency of these emails were even more perplexing since they were coming from an easy-going, cool young woman. My question was answered fast after a search on CNN: there was a bomb just meters from the ashram I had reservations at; there were a few casualties and also physical damage at the ashram.

The flat was still in silence, as any Sunday afternoon in any city. I was in shock, reading over and over, clicking on every link for more information. As in many other cases, it seemed that it was news for a short period of time, and then it was quickly surpassed by other issues. The initial news were shocking and moving enough to get me frozen for what seemed like long minutes. Should I still go? Is this a one-off or the beginning of a thread? Will I be able to meditate having these events so close in time and space? I e-mailed my closest friends (paradoxically scattered throughout the world), looking for confirmation of a decision that my gut had already taken: cancel. It seemed that now my mind had information that allowed it to align with my gut. My heart had absolutely no problem in staying in NY.

By the evening, it was a closed case. “Are you scared?” “No, I do not need to be scared, because I will not go. What do you think?” “I do not think.” And later I would understand. This was just fate’s first call.

Quote of the Day:


“Spiritual practice is not about going to places and chanting, knowing the stuff and debating. Spiritual practice is the transformation of our perspective and how we look at things. It is how much our mind has changed from negative to positive. That is spiritual practice.”


[From “IF NOT NOW, WHEN?” by Tsem Tulku Rinpoche, www.kechara.com. Kechara is a non-profit Buddhist organization.]

Relax Time –Just until Fate Knocks…

Some familiar sensation came to me: even though this was my first time here, the moment I walked into the building, I felt like arriving home -just as it had happened to me when I arrived at the Monastery a few days earlier. Maybe because of the not-totally-unfamiliar NY feeling (yet, NY), maybe because of the obvious Latin presence in the neighborhood where you listen to more Spanish than English on the streets, maybe because of company, maybe because of the last ten days of travels.
I had this mix of relaxing after the trip and the anticipation, unwinding after the excitement of meeting, relaxing after finally meeting -following a long undesired time apart. Has it ever happened to you that you wish something so strongly that you cannot believe it when it comes true? Has it happened to you that you dream of something so vividly and then when you are living your dream, you cannot tell if it is for real? Has it ever happened to you that when this dream comes true, you are so joyful, thankful and relieved that your eyes get watery? Has it ever happened to you that you are in such a state that you feel relaxed and excited, in bliss and in peace, high and yet, mindful and grounded, all together? Have you ever felt in such a way that it is as if nothing can possibly manage to affect your state, your higher perspective, where your heart is very sensitive (in the positive way) and open for giving, receiving and expressing, yet your mind seems to be decoding all developments and stepping in your life just as needed? As if heart and mind and spirit were dancing in perfect synch and harmony.

Probably by now you must be wondering if my descriptions above are those of somebody coming from a week in a Zen monastery. You have read a few times: craving, wish, dream, excited, expectations, anticipation… I believe that as human beings we cannot kill emotions, or ignore them, or hush them. The key is what we do with them, if we let them on the driver’s seat of our lives or if we acknowledge them, take care of them, listen to them and take them into account as another indicator on the dashboard (i.e., they have voice and vote, but no monopoly). Emotions are one of the things that make us human beings different from other creatures. Some people have a negative bias towards emotions; I believe they are missing on a powerful source of energy. Positive emotions can be very empowering, invigorating and contagious, just as negative emotions and emotional manipulation can be draining, equally contagious and even devastating.

After spending a sweet, relaxing weekend, exploring and enjoying the beautiful parks and views in Inwood, fate knocked at my door.


“By realizing that all sentient beings
Are more precious than wish-granting jewels,
For attainment of the supreme goal,
May I always hold them dear to my heart!”


[From “The Eight Verses of Transforming the Mind” by Geshe Langri Tangpa]

Welcome to Manhattan-Not, Canada-Not

I had been to Manhattan uncountable times, however this visit was my ‘first time’ in multiple levels: my first time staying for more than a week, my first time not having a tourist’s life but a local’s life, my first time not staying within walking distance of Central Park.

I was thrilled by the perspective of discovering this new side of NYC and by the couple of weeks ahead. Inwood is obviously not the Upper East Side or the Upper West Side or Chelsea, but it has some undeniable appeal – courtesy of Nature. This North, narrowed tip of the island is blessed with big parks on both Harlem and Hudson Rivers, enhanced with neat trails from where you enjoy some neater views. In Fort Tyron Park the steep hills are not only great to get your cardio workout, but also to enjoy gorgeous views of the Hudson; particularly once you get to the top, at The Cloisters. The Cloisters are like a treasure found at the end of a trail, at the top of a hill, your prize waiting for you. You feel transported to some medieval-like times, while enjoying those fantastic views. Just a few blocks apart from Fort Tyron Park, is the flat Highbridge Park, which follows the Harlem River for over 40 streets. This park –in the shape of a narrow strip- offers a decent extension along the river and beautiful views of the Washington Bridge.

Other than the Cloisters and Washington Bridge, architecture in this part of the city is anything but a ‘must-see’. If you ever come to “Canada” (this is how New Yorkers refer to Inwood), you are better off to come with a spirit of exploration and open mind (you can leave your expectations for glamour and latest trends in the subway!). Yet, as “Canada” as they want to label Inwood, I guarantee that you are still better off than in Canada -at least in terms of proximity to the pulsating heart of Manhattan! If you need to stay in this part of the city, you can always appear in the magic of 40 minutes (what takes to slide along more than half of the island underground) in the middle of Central Park. Thankfully Inwood is well connected through public transit, so when you crave the glamour, or the very well crafted New Yorker anti-glamour, or going to those best-kept-secret restaurants or jazz clubs, or the one thousand other things that you know are waiting for you in the Big Apple, the subway is your passport. There is no Toronto-Manhattan subway yet–and nowhere in Canada have I seen such a strong Latino community as in here!

The Way Back Home (5) – A Sweet Wait

This was supposed to be the express bus, but: this heated miscommunication/distrust incident + the endless line of people boarding in the mall where we stopped (they filled up the bus!) + the traffic to enter Manhattan = anything but express!

The closer we were to Manhattan, the slower we started to move forward. Ironically, although space separating me from my destination was shrinking with every minute, time seemed to be lengthening. It was as if time was playing some game on me: yes, you are almost there, but, it will take longer, and a bit longer, and actually some further bit longer. Part of me would have loved to be ejected from that seat and into the station where they were waiting for me. The other part of me was telling me: ‘go as a river- I know where I am going, I am on my way, no worries, no hurry.’

I got the reply to my TXT where I was advising of my delay: “The wait (to a point) makes it sweeter.” And I smiled- big smile, those that take quite a while to fade. I read the TXT again: it melted my half-anxiety, warmed my heart, and, I smiled again. Now it was 2 of us going as a river.



“No coming, No going
No coming, no going
No after, no before
I hold you close to me
I release you to be so free
Because I am in you and you are in me.”


[From the booklet at Blue Cliff Monastery “SONGS FOR MEDITATION PRACTICE- THIS IS A MOMENT OF HAPPINESS”.]

The Way Back Home (4) – Witnessing Lies or a Miscommunication Mess

The bus station was a small, obscure retail space in a parking lot that looked abandoned. It was freezing cold; the sun was weak and starting to hide. After double-checking for the express bus departure from Middletown to Port Authority station in Manhattan, I decided to wait outside where at least the air was fresh.

The bus finally arrived. A young Caucasian man in a ‘rapper’ look who had been wandering around during my wait offered: “Do you need help, Miss?” “No thank, you.” No one believes it, but I have learnt to carry 2 suitcases and a carry-on sola (these came all the way from Miami and was my luggage for the tail of Winter in NYC and for the scorching heat in India). My method earns some looks of amazement in public places, but I love this independence.

There were only 3 more women boarding the bus, and the driver took off, after exchanging some messages through his radio. When we are way into our ride, he got told-off over his radio for having departed and leaving a passenger behind. He asked if we should go back, and they said NO. Right after that, he got told-off again, apparently by someone different, for having left a couple of minutes earlier, leaving a passenger, and not going back for him/her. His argument got so heated that he stopped the bus, and started asking to us 4 passengers to voice what we had witnessed. Then, to cover his back, he asked us if we would document in writing our ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to his version of the incidents (sure, he was telling the truth), and provided him with our contact info in the event that things got worse. The poor driver, an Afro-American driver probably close to retirement, was so upset, that I was concerned about his health. The worst thing is, that there was no passenger at the station when I boarded -I was the last one to do so-, and that there was another bus leaving to Port Authority only 10 minutes after this one!

I wonder if this driver had no witnesses or if he did not have the smartness of asking that we testify, what would have happened to him? How many injustices like that are? Was it a question of lies or just miss-communication/miss-understanding?

“As for sentient beings who are bad-natured,


When I see they are oppressed by negativity and pain


May I cherish them just like I am encountering


A precious treasure that is difficult to find!”


[ From “The Eight Verses of Transforming the Mind” by Geshe Langri Tangpa]