Four score and seven years ago…I’m definitely exaggerating. One year ago, I packed up my life in Florida and moved a small portion of it with me to my sister’s apartment in New York. As an homage to my anniversary with this exciting and unpredictable city, I’d like to take a few moments to acknowledge the awesomeness that was this year.
Most importantly, I have a working website (holler). Not only is this website functioning properly, but I think I’ve been doing a decent job keeping it updated for the five people that read my blog. Next year, if all goes according to plan, my two year blog post will say, “I still have a working website.” Fingers crossed.
Enough business talk. This past weekend, I had planned to photograph some places that stuck out to me when I first arrived in Williamsburg. I found it extremely fitting that it snowed for the first time this winter (not counting the fluke snow day in October). When I stepped foot off the plane on January 25th, 2011, I had stepped into a cold and tired New York from that winter’s brutal storms. Mounds of snow littered the sidewalks as a reminder of what had just passed. Although last Saturday’s storm was really more of a prolonged dusting, it was a nostalgic and appropriate snow.
The Central Market holds a special place in my…stomach. Although I am sometimes unwelcome there (this is a Hasidic market, you see), it is the first thing I see when I look out my window. I am impressed with the large piles of potatoes and so grateful that my dish soap actually “removes the sfats.” Look out, Palmolive! Of course, they are closed on Saturday. They don’t roll on Shabbos.
Fortunately, there are other establishments open on Saturdays.
There is something comforting about that local cafe/bar. While the coffee is never really that good, the barista knows you and there are a stack of boardgames on the shelf. What’s not to love? The art hanging on the wall changes every so often and the music of choice is always satisfying. My first two weeks were spent confined to the corner table near the radiator…until about 5 or 6pm when I was asked to move so that the tables could be pushed together for trivia night. Those were the days.
I have since branched out and have spent time further away from my apartment. It’s really a work in progress. It is definitely more difficult to be a homebody when your home consists of one room. I guess that’s the charm of this crazy little city. You’re not meant to spend your time indoors.
On a more serious note, what has actually changed this past year?
I am taller I am more confident. I have a plan. I’m an adult (sort of). I am refining who I am as a person and in doing so, I am getting out the sfats.