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AN UNEXPECTED JOURNEY

Saturday, 3:25 P.M.

[Track 1] I board the bus excited to embrace the unknown, I have been to a few places this bus travels through but some areas are definitely going to be new to me. There isn’t much unexpected about the fact that I needed to take the M5 bus. I sit towards the back and I am alone. Finally, I can add. I decided previously to this trip that, since Steven Levy was soon to come and speak, I would set my I-Pod on shuffle mode and see what thoughts would arise with any given song. I imagined the music would set a particular mood and change my experience on the bus, much like it changes my subway ride between school and home every single day. For the purpose of this trip I am experimenting with a new meditation exercise. I will in fact acknowledge the memories, the stories, the thoughts that will arise because of the music, and I will then drop them to focus on the new environment around me. On the present, on the NOW. I will embrace the space and breath in the images of this city I live in and so often ignore. I press play, although I know I will disagree with my device’s taste since I usually end up selecting my own play-list. As the bus starts moving, I witness a fight, in the middle of the street, between a yellow-cab and a violently angry driver. I see a slap, a punch in the face and a whole lot of traffic. There is a lot of construction on Sixth Avenue, for some reason I am not surprised. I look out of the window and absorb the view: Mac Donald’s, tattoo shops I would never expose my skin to, “Post No Bills” signs, and the sign for a Psychic Advisor. And that’s when I realize that I had ‘accidentally’ taken that bus before with my mother, during one of her frequent stays in NYC. [Track 2] I look out some more and remember that my mother and I were walking back from SoHo and were trying to hail a cab back to the hotel she was staying at, always the same, always in the same area of Manhattan. It was raining that day. It’s a beautiful day today. And it suddenly hits me that the music isn’t inspiring too many thoughts, but rather is New York City itself that is guiding me through a review of my past years in the city, leading me on a very unexpected journey down memory-lane. I drop the thought and look up, at the penthouses, at the highest floors, just something I like to do, and it reminds me of a scene from one of my favorite Italian movies Caro Diario (Dear Diary), by Nanni Moretti. The windows of the Village are little, narrow, European looking just like the short brick buildings themselves. The curtains are often parted to the side. [Track 3] At the corner of West 12th St and Sixth Avenue, I can’t help thinking about my old office, 24 W. 12th St, and my 4-month-long NYU work experience as Assistant Director. The Food Emporium across the street reminds me of one of my last events to plan: a round-table and dinner with the most influential Italian actors and directors. The caterer/friend Pino and I had to go do some emergency-grocery-shopping before the big event. [Track 4] There are definitely windows that don’t ever see the sun. There are living rooms with no natural lighting. Hidden, buried behind other more recent and taller buildings. And I can’t stop noticing some rigid and fascist looking architectural structures in this part of town. Past 20th St and 6th Ave, I remember the meditation center I used to attend to. The Shambhala Center. A nice western approach to Tibetan Buddhism and meditation practice, but a little too promiscuous and not authentic enough for my taste. I took many courses there, but people’s interests for being part of the Sangha (community) went well beyond meditation, praying and social activism. [Track 05] Consciously coming back to the present moment, I see the Avalon, where I have never been. I really never felt the need to. Close by there’s the Olive Garden, needless to say the least Italian restaurant in America and possibly in the World. My second time in the City, my friend Francesca and I wanted to try the Olive Garden cuisine and were almost kicked out for making beautiful sculptures out of food: it was better construction material than edible delicacy. We move a few blocks and there it is, Tekserve, on 23rd St. The store where the 4’9’’ dark-hair woman who stole my wallet from my desk at work, maxed out all of my credit cards. She bought more than 5 different types of I-Pods. The manager later confessed: “I have seen her before. She has done it in the past”. That surely was a fun and exciting day! [Track 06] I take one long breath. A very interesting man, with round glasses, sits across from me. We drive through the fashion district and I think about a few memories I cherish, linked to this area. I was looking for lace for my wedding dress once and a talented Cuban seamstress completed it for me: a simple white strapless tunic with a long, mandarin neck, lace coat. It was beautiful, and unbelievably affordable. A couple of fittings away and I was off to Greece. Many more times I ended up in the theatre district. My mother likes musicals since they constitute a good balance between music and words, and although she doesn’t speak English proficiently, she can still understand what’s going on, on stage. [Track 07] We pass by Macy’s. Every time I see it I think about how incredibly big it is. John and I have gone shopping together a couple of times, but I hate shopping in crowded places and he has no patience: not the perfect cocktail during holiday season. Across the street I see Victoria’s Secret and I’ve recently heard that they are importing some very popular Italian lingerie. It might be finally the time I find some underwear my size in the store; I have shopped at that specific location a few times. Their S is definitely equivalent to a European M. [Track 08] Big billboards obstruct the view. On the bus there is a very mixed crowd now, much different than before. I pass some store specialized in buttons and it takes me back to when I was 6 years old; I really liked going to one specific button store in the middle of my town. I loved them, with all their cuts, shapes and colors. They looked like candies. [Track 09] Bryant Park reminds me of my first summer in NYC. I was taking classes at NYU to complete some credits for my college in Boston and I enrolled in a class that explored the roots and history of most of New York City’s neighborhoods and boroughs. I remember a lot of readings around the beautification of this specific Park and it surely does look good. I see the building that houses HBO and I think about how they are showing a special on the ‘Tsunami Aftermath’ on Dec 8th, I really want to see it. Only problem is that I can’t afford the channel. The International Center of Photography brings me back to when I was about to graduate during the spring 2004, and came to see a few photo exhibits my teachers and friends participated in. Rockefeller Center. My mother enjoys coming here in the winter to watch the brave skaters; I remember one time we were arguing and to bring a smile to her face I wrote her an apologetic card and drew the two of us as little skaters at Rockefeller Plaza, dressed with scarves and little mittens. John and I came one afternoon to the NBC studios for the taping of our favorite show, Conan O’Brien’s. [Track 10] The M5 passes Radio City Hall and it makes me think of Christmas. For some reason I never liked Christmas and I still don’t. I love my family but everybody seems to get along better in the spring or in the summer time. I notice a gigantic modern Venus that reminds me of my love for ancient Greek and Roman art. Kate’s Paperie is a good store to get lost in. I went to this specific branch looking for brown ribbon to hold my wedding invitations together and it’s probably about time I return to buy some overdue thank-you notes. [Track 11] I approach Central Park, arena of a few arguments between John and I. For example the time I escaped to the Park trying to find some peace and quiet, but he came looking for me and almost found me. I wandered through the Zoo, angry and excited at the same time. Or the time we went sunbathing on the Great Lawn and we got into a stupid disagreement and then fell asleep. I left a note for him and walked away. That night we had a nice dinner out. [Track 12] At the Strand bookstand outside the Park’s entrance, my mother bought me “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” by Jonathan Safran Foer. Now one of my ultimate all-time favorites. Even more recently, my aunt, my cousin and I took a walk minutes before my niece was born at Mount Sinai Hospital. My first American-born relative whom I will temporarily get to spoil, hold and play with. The memories tied to Central Park don’t stop coming: the dinner party at the Baroness’s house, the piña coladas in a styrofoam cup, the boat ride with my friend James and the romantic excursion with that French guy on Sunday afternoon. [Track 13] We pass in front of Lincoln Center. Just a few of nights ago John and I went to see the Madame Butterfly. John’s first opera exposure and my first time at the Met. Madame Butterfly is my favorite opera. I loved the set design and the lighting: very modern, very clever, very decorative yet of great taste and simplicity. Parma has one of the most active opera programs and one of the prettiest opera houses, the Teatro Regio, in Italy. I have definitely developed a taste and nostalgic fondness for this music over the years. John found the woman overly acting and therefore a little annoying. I will have to agree and also add that the orchestra’s volume was too high and overpowering. Someone even boo-ed. Regardless, it was an interesting and different night out. We looked pretty and were happy to spend a night out alone. [Track 14] There is a moment of silence in my head. The memories seem to have ended. I just notice that Tower Records is going out of business. At 79th St and 6th Ave the buildings are beautiful and monumental. The ornamental frames around the windows are absolutely gorgeous. [Track 15] An older woman in a wheelchair is lifted on the bus. It takes a few minutes and I observe the use of the technology doing something it needs to do more often: help people live better. [Track 16] I have never been on Riverside Drive; it’s a long almost suburban looking avenue. For one minute I feel like I could be anywhere else. There’re trees and water on my left and tall buildings and wide streets on my right. I observe and appreciate the unknown, while building memories as I write. [Track 17] A couple of nice men comes onto the bus and sits directly across from me. They are wearing matching shoes and matching shiny wedding bands on their ring fingers. They look rested and comfortable, while only now I am starting to feel a bit tired of the bumpy ride and a little claustrophobic. I give up my seat for a little girl dressed in bright pink. I face the river and look out the window for a while. I can’t say much other than that there are some really nice homes here. “Newly seeded. Keep off”. It’s starting to get dark. [Track 18] This song by Jovanotti speaks volume to my memory. It’s part of a play-list my best friend Vittorio put together for my wedding selection and it talks about people who never go to sleep before morning. It’s the schedule I have always been on and it’s the schedule I fight with everyday, but after all these years it honestly seems the most natural way of life for me. We work better at night. At 100th St I remember the guided tour of Harlem I took for my class. I remember the wonderful buildings, the intense atmosphere that only a place with this much history emanates; the Greyhound bus usually drove through this part of the city. [Track 19] This song was one of John’s downloads, I can recognize his taste. I think about him and my heart fills with joy. I do pray that our commitment may last, but for now I am living a moment of bliss and it’s a very happy ‘coincidence’ to hold actual documentation of it. Recorded proof of the ephemeral delightful feeling that sat next to me on this bus ride and then left. And of course I get a headache, probably from the lack of fresh air in over an hour and half. Which reminds me of why I don’t usually take the bus. The older man next to me is intoxicating me with his horrible breath but by his body language I gather that his stop must be approaching. Can’t wait to say goodbye and part from him. [Track 20] I see big Greek columns and I’m now getting very confused. It’s dark and hazy, almost foggy. I see swings and apartment buildings I can finally peak into and I’m officially the person who has been on this bus the longest. Everyone else who started this trip with me has already reached his/her destination. I see a big sign for Crown Fried Chicken and I remember the one around the corner from my old apartment in Bed-Stuy. [Track 21] When I hear this song by Vasco, I immediately remember the moment it was played at my wedding. Towards the end, around four or five in the morning. I was still dancing and singing with my friends. Yet it seemed like the night didn’t last long enough. The little girl in pink is now leaving with her mom and sister. I’m starting to feel really uneasy. From the awning speaking in Spanish, I gather we might be in Spanish Harlem or close or I’m simply ignorant of this part of town. The sign “Real Pizza” makes me smile. [Track 22] My I-Pod loves Pearl Jam, and usually opera as well. I start looking around for public-housing buildings. I have always lived right next to Projects since the first apartment I rented in this country. They have almost become a point of reference for my mental maps. [Track 23] It’s nighttime already and we are back traveling on Broadway, at 161st St. I see some buildings belonging to Columbia University and it’s the first time I come to this campus. It looks like a completely different town or city. Far away from where I was half-hour ago. On my left I see a café that attracts my attention with a catchy motto: “Come On In or Smile As You Pass”. I think it’s a very nice simple concept, and I do smile. [Track 24] In some of the store display windows I see mannequins showing off some really sexy garments for nice and curvy women. I remember when I weighed ten or fifteen pounds more, and had a completely different body silhouette than now. I miss it at times; I never meant to lose the weight, it just happened over time. Everyone is exiting the bus and I finally learn that this will be the last stop: 178th St. [Track 25] The bus driver realizes that I am still sitting here and starts chatting with me. He tells me that his shift is almost over and a few blocks away he’s going to deliver me to another man. He usually wakes about three in the morning to start a shift around five forty five. He usually gets back home so exhausted that he eats dinner and goes to sleep no later than eleven pm. But he does have two days off consecutively which he highly enjoys. I see the George Washington Bridge and it feels like I have just won a trophy, broke some kind of record, or received a gift I had been waiting for. I am not sure if I am just exhausted and delusional, but it looks beautiful from afar. “People over here are crazy”, the driver tells me to justify the fact that he doesn’t want me to get off the bus to then get back on. We turn around. [Track 26] I hear silence and I recognize John Cage’s 4’33”. My mind travels at the speed of light to find the memories of my good friend Michael Silver. He actually passed away while visiting some friends in New York City. He had me guarding his things while he was gone; we shared studio spaces inside the School of the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. He was probably in his sixties but always told everyone he was 55. In the past he had worked with and was mentored by John Cage himself. Made wonderfully brilliant installations and took some surreal photographs of Cage and flying brooms. Mike had left his wife and kids and his restaurant to pursue an alternate goal. But the details of his past were always blurry and he would only sporadically share them with very special and close friends. He died of a heart attack and was found ill with a severe case of Pneumonia. His cough was an auditory landmark; I used to wake up to it when spending the night at school during midterms and finals. He’s definitely missed. And as I end most of my subway rides, I end this interesting journey on the M5. I wish to everyone that has boarded and will board this bus to reach his or her destinations safe and sound. And as the Practices of Loving-Kindness and Compassion instruct, I pray:

“May all sentient beings enjoy happiness and the root of happiness.
May you be free from suffering and the root of suffering.
May you not be separated from the great happiness devoid of suffering.
May you dwell in the great equanimity free of passion, aggression and prejudice.”