A year ago this May I decided to go to NYC for 30 days. I sold my car and boarded a plane for the Big Apple. 4 days later I moved into a postage stamp sized room in Brooklyn, me and my rucksack.
It was a tough neighborhood. I barely slept. A brownstone in "Bed-Stuy". New Yorker's who asked where I was staying wouldn't say a word. Looking down, they would just shake their head. The next question was always the same, "How far are you from the Subway station?"
"Four blocks"
Looking at each other, they would then nod their heads. "Well, you may be alright."
I loved Manhattan.
Hoping to dive into the art scene, I walked, ate good food till I was broke, and met some amazing people.
Many evenings, on my way back to Brooklyn, I would stop at Washington Square Park to watch. I became friends with one of the park rangers, Carlton, a short balding man who looked, spoke and had the mannerisms of George of Seinfeld. He became my advice giver on how to navigate the city.
Every night the music director of a neighborhood ballet school would come to the park with a baby grand piano. (www.thecrazypianoguy.com) He played, another man sang, and the park would become a circus of live music, dancing and singing. In all my travels I have become a follower of live theatre especially on the streets. Being a singer-songwriter, performer, I am inspired by this fearless and bold talent.
30 days later I returned to the tiny thriving metropolis of Seattle, thin as a rail and empty pockets. Seattle had never been so easy to live in. I felt like I was on vacation and everyone was trying to fatten me up again. Someday I hope to return to the Big Apple and join the "crazy" pool of talent.
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