Cold Air Wind in the Art District of New York

I woke up in New York City in instant excitement. So much so that i woke up an hour earlier than the alarm clock was set. That never happens. A coffee on the go was the only thing that I needed. The day was like a crisp cold that chills you when you walk out the door, but that is so amazing! Not a single cloud in the sky, and a sun that illuminated the entire city. We wanted to go somewhere non of us had ever gone before. We decided to go to the Art District and Hi Line. We took the subway in which we got a little lost, so we asked for help to the nicest New Yorker I have ever met. He showed us on the map where we were going, all though the subway line would leave us a little far away. It didn’t matter; we walked. When we got off, the day had changed, and the same crisp wind was accompanied by the most spectacular wind ever! I’m gonna make a small parenthesis here to go on and say that I love wind. When I encounter wind, the sort of wind that makes the leaves on the floor make a whirlwind and your hair lose any type of form or natural way of being. It takes my breath away and my skin started to boil with adrenaline. So much so, it knocked my mom out of the sideway and made almost ran over. Not so fun. After asking a few, we got to the Hi Line, or the end of it anyway, and we saw it backwards.

The Hi Line is an abandoned railway station that was going to be torn down. But the structure was way too valuable and previous NY mayors and artist got together to make something spectacular of it. It’s a beautiful pathway with different forms of art, from sculptures and huge drawings on the buildings, to very small things that you don’t really know if they’re there for a reason or mere coincidence. It’s a place worth going, because very few cities in the world take their abandoned spaces to make something amazingly artistic about it.

 

The end (or the beginning) of the Hi Mile is in the Meat Packing District. This is also a place that was kind of abandoned and dangerous industrial space, and became a place for the best restaurants around! The floor is in made of stone, so it looks like a completely different city than without the pavement. We stopped to eat in a Mexican restaurant called Dos Caminos. Order the Carnitas Tacos. Yum. We had a dinner reservation so we didn’t eat much, but it was delicious. Especially looking at the people walking by. I love the way New Yorkers dress, and especially in the cold. Everyone looks elegant, pretty and generally… not sweaty.

We got off in Time Square, I took a few pictures and we just walked. Kept walking. Broadway, Fifth, Rockefeller, we window-shopped unbuyable things and we absorbed the energy of this city in Christmas. We went to the plaza to try to pass by as guests so we could order a New York Martini. Didn’t work; so we kept walking. We walked to the hotel, which was 20 blocks away. We got there tired as hell, but it was completely worth it. If you are not willing to waste away your shoes on walking, don’t come to New York.

We went to Amma, an Indian restaurant that is truly fantastic. It’s tiny and has about 8 tables. However, if you walk into an Indian restaurant and you see an Indian family eating, stay! The Vindaloo and the chicken with the name I simply cant remember for the life of me, was excellent! I love Indian, and it’s a food you have to get accustomed to, but if you like it, this is the place to go. Don’t start with the Vindaloo if you are just learning! We ended up with our body burning with spice, but the aroma and the different flavors that mix up in your plate are amazing. The thing I love most about Indian food is that the hole table eats the same thing, you all have the same taste and experience in your mouths and you get to share that, instead of each ordering a plate of completely different things.

 

It was a real New York day of seeing the greatest differences, cultures, spaces and energy of the most magnificent city in the world.

 

 

Airport days are the worst!

As soon as I arrived at the airport, I ran into an old teacher. One of those teachers who changed my life, taught me to write, pushed me until I cried and let the things inside me flow in the form of words in a balance similar to Gay Telese, and by doing that, he taught me to love journalism.  After catching up with him for a while, we got on the plane. My mom on one side, and emptyness as my right parnter. I couldnt be happier! I could strech without having to respect anyone’s personal bubble.

After a 6 hour flight, we got to JFK to find an hour long immigration line. One hour, 32 minutes and 17 seconds to be a little more precise. The reservation at Carmine’s was lost, and we needed to settle for room service. The immigration officer looked tought, but wasnt really. Although he did ask a lot of unecessary questions.  For example: what kind of economy does your dad practice, micro or macro? Response: I have no clue.

Taxi line, taxi drive, and getting stuck in the elevator are some of the ocurrences that delayed our family reunion after that. However we finallh got to the room, jumped up and down while screaming of joy.

For the first time ever, I have woken up before the rest of my family and trying to come up with something new and exciting to do today.

New York Awaits! Wanderlust is Back!

Wanderlust is back! Today I leave for a trip once more, filling you in on all the beautiful details. The itinerary works like this: I fly to New York. From JFK I will take a taxi that will feel like the slowest ever until I arrive at The Surrey Hotel. My little brother who I have not seen in 6 months will be waiting for me. After a much nervous-laughter-tearful-jumping around hug we will go to dinner. I have a reservation at Carmines in the Theatre District. I will be staying in New York for two days. Too little if you ask me.

 

Afterwards I will rent a car and drive to Philadelphia. I lived there for about a year when I was two. I haven’t been back since, and the trip should be filled with memorabilia that my parents will keep on telling me about, and reminisce endlessly. I will be staying in an hotel apartment. This trip will mostly be family, resting and shopping.

 

After 2013 rolls by, my brother will go back to France and I will go to Orlando for more family filled fun. For this very reason, this version of the Wanderlust posts will be a little different. Not on a daily basis, and mentioning the least possible boring aspects of the cheesy family reunion. However, any new sights I come by in Philly and all my New York days in excruciating detail will all me mentioned and I will keep you up to date.

 

This time I have a much better cellphone camera so you can see what I see in greater detail. Also, I will be posting pictures I take with my Canon. I’m taking my 28-135mm lens so I get greater zoom action for a Time Square moment, and my LensBaby so I can practice some more. I still haven’t got the hang of it completely.

 

Goodbye my fellow Vagabonds! New York awaits!

The remote Chichiman on the Atlantic Coast of Colombia

Last week I went to one of the most remote places in Colombia. The name of this place is almost as remote as its location. Chichiman is a very small village in the Atlantic coast of Colombia. The folklore, the culture and the richness of the country seem to multiply exponentially. However you have to know what you are looking for. How to spot the magnificence of this place, because if not for a sharp eye, looking might seem like a Unicef documentary searching for donations.

 

This is a place you can reach by car after about an hour of unpaved road while passing houses made out of twigs and clay, that in my head there is no physical way they are still standing. In each of those houses you see an elder man and woman, with middle-aged sons and daughters, each with no less than five babies. Malnutrition is obviously an issue. No doubt that this amount of people in a single household living in misery can be well. However you see all of them smiling. Poorness in this part of the world is different. Things are solved somehow, and answers to everything come simply. Food? Fish, coconuts, bananas. Roof? Palm trees. Bed? Hammock. Clothes? Its hot out, you don’t need to wear a shirt. It doesn’t necessarily bring misery, depression and struggle. Everyone smiles; people are the nicest and most helpful. Talking to them, asking them questions only leads to them asking about your life in a beautiful curiosity born out of the biggest naivety. Most aren’t looking for anything more than their clay houses, their large families and the beauty of having all needs right there.

 

Chichiman starts where another remote village ends: next to Rincon. Literally in Spanish, corner. In the corner of Colombia is this very small spot with the greatest beach you can imagine. Lonely with no one passing but carrier donkeys and chalupas or rowboats with fishermen who spend hours on end under the sun. It’s a place where the simple pleasures of life are a constant. Taking the time to read a book, looking up and seeing a yellow butterfly pass by, see how the sun sinks into the horizon meeting the ocean, understanding the way the colors of the sunset change daily, as do the waves. Start hearing the crickets at about 6 in the afternoon, feel the warmth of the sand during the day, waking up when your body naturally wakes up, the lack of need to put on shoes, cold shower without being torture, and best of all… no cellphone reception.

 

 

It’s a you’re likely never to get to in your life, even if you come to Colombia most people will have never heard of this place. Nonetheless, I thought it would be a contribution to your vagabond knowledge that is indulged only by a true traveller, who knows of certain places, imagines them and yet knows (s)he will never truly see it. That shouldn’t have to be restriction of reading this post, of closing your eyes and imagine living in this place so behind the XXI century way of hotel chains and McDonalds environment. It’s where boredom leads to creation. It’s where civilization seems nonexistent. Where Garcia Marquez’s words come to life and you can picture all of the Aurelios and the One Hundred Years of Solitude no longer seem like a magic realism novel, but a historical novel based on real life.