Covid has turned NY into LA
The lovely Sapphire Dragon. Back in a more innocent era.
Friends -- thanks for reading this latest -- and very brief! -- dispatch. Published in PS I Love You. In a way it wraps up my journey back to New York City.
COVID TURNED NY INTO LA
October--Brooklyn
March 2020 beat T.S. Eliot by two weeks. Or maybe, March was just damn crazy, April kept its title as the cruelest month, and May was like, why rock the boat? Keep it Cruel 2020. June said, sure cruel works. July agreed and… you get the picture.
This crazy spring I fled New York. I’ve been working remotely for over 9 years, I have a car, I have my privilege. I left. I had a cute one bedroom in a coveted neighborhood — coveted by me, and by everyone else unfortunately. This kept the rent high and vacancies near zero. I lived in a brownstone apartment in the West Village. Trees taller than houses lined the street. My bedroom kept quiet. I used the wood-burning fireplace every winter, the living room had tall ceilings and the kitchen featured new full-size appliances, which is a big deal in New York, where someone, somewhere, invented dishwashers so skinny you want to feed them cheeseburgers instead of scraps.
It was 18 years of living that ended in 20 minutes of packing my bags. Less than two days into the mid March lockdown I had enough of a life with no gym no synagogues no bars no restaurants no music no friends no dates no dinner parties no movies no subway no quiet open spaces no shopping no museums no art galleries yes anxiety yes fear yes sadness. Yes mourning.
I packed only what I could carry, hustled to a parking garage and c’est fini.
Fear pushed me out, we all know that story, but here’s what attracted me like a magnet flung to its conclusion. I headed north. Imagine six months in New England and New York countryside — with its green and slate mountains, lakes with bald eagles, forests and farms. I ate with friends on patios as the sun set after 8:30pm. Took walks along night blackened country roads where a field of fireflies sparkled like a bioluminescent Christmas. Watched the Great Dipper rise over a friend’s standing seam metal roof in Vermont. Learned how to plant and weed and harvest food at another friend’s farm and I never touched anyone, but felt closeness all the same. It was company in fresh air. The etymology is com = “together with” and panis = “bread.” Throw in some mountains and you’re eating with friends on bucolic farms.
Then, like Rip Van Winkle, I snapped back to New York. After six months the magnet reversed polarity. It was a seasonal return like birds soaring south, it was the Jewish new year holiday cycle with its offer of renewal, it was instinct to burrow for winter with my pack.
When the Dutch dude woke he saw a vaguely recognizable yet very strange new world. That’s what it’s like to leave NYC in the early days of Covid — and then to return in fall 2020. The months are no longer cruel. More like… coping. Wary. Worried.
You return to New York, but really, you’re in Santa Monica with sycamore trees instead of palms.
Hungry? Grab a bite at the place around the corner with outdoor seating. Or the other place with outdoor seating. All the places with outdoor seating, like we’re near a surf spot (which we are, The Rockaways). Now everyone wants to celebrate nature, two words that rarely swipe right in New York.
Parking spots have become parks-in-spots, which is way better than storing still cars — and this is from a guy who now lives by street parking and won’t take the subway until there’s a vaccine by… next Rosh Hashanah, right? Labor Day 202X?
City people keep saying, “it’s like Europe here,” but I’m thinking, “Europe” is old mortar and wood and good food and pre-car towns and really excellent movies and people who can accessorize with scarves without looking silly.
In northeastern cities, you can now walk around, see people, sit outside. With online menus and contactless payment, at many places you pay at your table when you’re done eating. It’s easy. It’s truly seamless.
My point: This is now a cozy, friendly, sparkling New York that takes its cues from Southern California as much as it does the Amalfi Coast. Sure LA has tons of patios and side yards that will always be there, but we have street life and flavor. It’s even better here.
Except one thing. They have valet parking.
Thanks for reading! Published in P.S. I Love You: https://psiloveyou.xyz/covid-turned-ny-into-la-8cc8b0cb1874