|A Japanese garden in Kumamoto City, southern Kyushu|
|My good friend Drew on the left and our intrepid Emily and Catherine.|
So back in New York, September 1st was quickly approaching and I only heard back from one possible place to rent, which I couldn't visit until the trains started back up after Hurricane Irene. Desperate, I asked Carlos, my Colombian sub-letter if he had any temporary spaces available.
Carlos, to his credit, tried to help by taking to me to a a young (younger than me) man who was fixing up a room, and was due to have a Japanese roommate move in soon. But the neighborhood had a shady vibe and having to rent from someone who didn't look old enough to buy his own beer also helped me to quickly decide against that spot.
"You know," Carlos said in an uncharacteristically tentative voice, pausing.
"I have a space on the second floor with the Japanese people you met before. It's not really a room, but do you want to check it out?
"Sure," I said. I had wandered up before the hurricane and introduced myself to two Japanese roommates and they seemed nice enough...
The space turned out to be a cubby made out of two empty entertainment centers, turned inward, a door screwed on one and wedged against the other to make a doorway, about a foot of space between them and the twin bed squeezed in, reminiscent of a Japanese internet cafe booth.
|Like this, but no computer, no chair, and not as clean.|
Meeting my roommates took some time because everyone tended to stay inside their rooms, doors closed. After a couple of days hanging out in the common area when I was home revealed them to be:
a Japanese guy, just 19, attending college and studying business/marketing, and avid death metal fan;
a young Japanese woman, recently graduated, and changing professions. Her boyfriend moved in to her room a couple weeks before I left, and was a really cool dude;
a young Chinese woman, with similar circumstances, including the boyfriend moving in to her room;
and the youngest, an 18 year-old from Saudi Arabia, studying at Columbia, or somewhere impressive like that. He was really shy, probably about speaking English, but it wasn't bad, and his bashful manner was, for lack of a better word, cute.
I was surprised to find that everyone was actually quite friendly and personable. I guess though, that it never occurred to them to try making friends with each other. You couldn't say we became close, but in the month I ended up spending there, we all learned each others' names and would occasionally hang out, do laundry, or eat dinner together.
|I did make it a point to eat this as soon as possible!|
|2 of my apartments former tenants! <3|
Okay, finding an apartment in New York is hard, you get it. Sorry. I won't drag this subject out any longer. To summarize, I will tell you that the first person who I mentioned got back to me had a great place, in the neighborhood I wanted to live, at a great price, and even the intersection was awesome. After a lot of legal aches and pains, all hinging on her getting a job in California, which she did, I was finally able to move in...after October 1st!
But with the knowledge that I would have a place, to myself, to live for the next year, I was finally able to turn my attention to the next big thing:
My new job!
I went in before my first official day to practice finding the place, and meet everyone in person.
|Okay, this is just the roof, but still cool, no?|
And that is one of the best things of all; since everyone in the office speaks English and Japanese well enough that I can be understood in either language, I am free to speak English, and still get plenty of Japanese practice. Since losing my Japanese ability when I came back to the U.S. was a major concern of mine, that was a huge relief.
But no sooner was I starting to think "I can handle this", than I was thrown into the circus that was covering the 10th anniversary of the September 11th.
|Toward the end of the ceremony, I was able to walk right up to where family members were reading the names of the deceased.|
|A model of the future skyline around the World Trade Center. This was actually inside the new Building 7.|
I don't want to go into too much more detail about my job, because a lot of it is much less exciting and sexy as a topic, but September was certainly a "baptism by fire" (although I find that phrase to be overused) with all the stories I had to work on. The ground zero reconstruction, NY Fashion week, and UN General Assembly were just a few of the things in the news I had to work on, learning my job as I went.
Oh yes, there were mistakes, and a lot of times I still feel like dead weight, but again, my coworkers have and continue to be so patient and understanding. I am beyond happy with how my life is playing out.
|I'm a model, you know what I mean, and I do my little turn on the CATWALK!♪|
The last and most important topic I want to address are the "unknown roots" this post refers to. Most of you probably don't know this about me, but pretty much all of my immigrant roots, came to the U.S. through New York. In fact, mine is the first generation of my family in America born OUTSIDE New York. So the unknown part for me is "going home" to a place I've never been. And two points, more than any other, signify this return:
First is my dad. He grew up in Manhattan (in the 1940s mind you), moved to Arizona, and got a job in the news industry in his mid-twenties. I, also in my mid twenties, was born and raised in Arizona (putting aside 9 years in California), moved to New York City, and got a job in the news industry in Manhattan! To be honest, I think he is more excited about this serendipitous turn of events than I, but it is still quite the remarkable coincidence.
Then there is my cousin Bob, or whatever the proper term is for a great-cousin. Bob is my mother's cousin, and the child of my grandpa's younger sister. As a child, I was lucky to have my grandfather in my life, and during those 9 years in California I got to see him fairly often. Although I was by all accounts an insufferably brat, I adored my grandpa and cherished the time we spent together. Now as an adult, my memories of him are mostly a patchwork of favorite moments, and family rituals, so it came as an enormous surprise to me when I got to New York and got in touch with Bob over the phone. If you were to ask to describe my grandfather's voice before talking to Bob, I could recall it as bold, confident, with a slightly older, different way of speaking. I couldn't really place the accent or hear it in my head though. But Cousin Bob's voice suddenly connected to my ear, was so identical, it could fool a security system straight out of Mission Impossible!
Now, all of the sudden, my hereto-forth unknown relation, with the same voice box as my grandpa, was picking me up and taking me to Italian for lunch! It was amazing and I am very grateful that this is happening, not just now, but specifically now that I am an adult, because if this had happened as a teenager, I don't think I would have been mentally able to process this man who grew up very close to my grandpa, his uncle, in New York, and with so many memories and impressions of the man himself, that I feel like I am relearning who my own grandpa is, vicariously, through his stories.
Sadly, I have been so busy with work and settling in to my new life, that I haven't met with him again in person since, but rest assured, next time I do, it will be a blog of it's own.
I leave with this: