The bad: on the J train

I live in Hamilton Heights and work al the way to Bushwick. It’s a LONG commute, about 1hour and a few minutes of my day. But had I not endured all these hours on the subway, I doubt I would have witnessed pretty much every vignette of new york life you can imagine. Oh the things I saw, heard, and smelled!

One time on the 1 train, a guy sitting beside me insisted on demonstrating to me the newly acquired flexibility of his broken arm. I declined and let out a nervous laugh. Broken arm guy shrugged one shoulder in sign of indifference but another stranger sitting across from me scolded me for making fun of him. This is one of many examples of the most unlikely interactions I had with other riders.

The weirdest, most shocking incident happened during a morning commute to work, on the J tain between Flushing and Myrtle av., I think. There was at the most, three other people on the train – usually people travel to Brooklyn from Manhattan in the morning, not the other way around. I was changing into my work shoes when I noticed the homeless man who had been sitting diagonally across from me since Marcy Av station. We locked eyes. I knew that look

I have been working with children since 2007, as a day care assistant and as a babysitter. I am very familiar with that look. I just had never seen it in an adult man before. To the untrained eye, it may be confused with the “glazed look”, but it reflects a person experiencing full concentration, pleasure, and slight embarrassment. More often than not, this look is accompanied by a semi-open mouth and a slight frown. This man was, without a doubt in, pooping. Seconds later, the most foul smell invaded the subway car, making it impossible to disprove my hypothesis.

Not giving a fuck about the $75 fine, I made my way to the next car. Of course, not before exchanging one las glance with the homeless man who now sported a very different look of utter satisfaction and mischief.

MTA subway map, zoom on Manhattan-Brooklyn line

The good: 4th of July in Bushwick

This gallery contains 10 photos.

Hello there dudes! The week of the 1st of July was so packed for me that I haven’t even gotten the chance to tell you what what went down! I had quite a few friends visiting from Canada, Germany, and … Continue reading →

The bad: bed bugs in my apartment

“Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite”

— Some fool

Yes my friends, I had (probably still have) bed bugs in my apartment. It has been hell. HELL. When I came back from my graduation in Toronto, I started noticing these weird bite marks all over my body. They felt and looked like mosquito bites but they were abundant and in clusters of three. I was like “dafuq is this???”. Of course, I googled the symptoms and quickly realized that the cause of these bite marks were definitely a bed bug infestation. My roommate was in denial tried to stay positive at first because she hadn’t been bit yet and we hadn’t spotted any on the couch mattresses. I was certain from the beginning that it was bedbugs! Of course, a day or two after I had made my correct diagnosis, she started getting bite marks and she spotted one while folding a bedsheet. She was convinced We were soooo depressed!

I was really worried about two things: a) that I had brought them from toronto and b) that we were going to have to pay for the elimination of the bugs. It’s apparently very expensive. However, after talking to the superintendent, we learned that there had been an infestation in an apartment below us. So we figured the bugs had most likely come from there. Phew. I called my mother back in Toronto anyways and advised her to at least spray some raid in the house, just in case. The super also told us the landlord would take care of hiring an exterminator. Double Phew.

My roommate decided to warn the neighbour about a possible infestation with something along the lines of:

“yo we have bedbugs, so you might want to check your mattress to see if you have them too”.

To which the asshole replied something like:

“yeahh I definitely have them, I have had them for a while now”

In shock, unable to understand how someone might be OK with living with bed bugs crawling on them and biting them every night, my roommate asked:

“So I am guessing you have made plans to fumigate soon? They’re spraying our apartment tomorrow.”

And he said:

“No, not at the moment really. Actually The city recommends not spraying because they just move somewhere else. So now I’m just gonna get more bugs after you spray, ugh.”

He shut the door. My roommate might or might not have stood there in a catatonic state for like a minute, unable to process the information she has just received. We were both so disgusted by our neighbour! If you have never had bed bugs, let me assure you they are amongst the worst plague you can get in the city. They can survive without food (your blood) for a long time, they multiply super fast, they hide very well in sofas and mattresses, the bites hurt like hell, and they are very expensive to get rid of.

So as of now, the exterminator came and sprayed the house. We had to put all our clothes and linens in bags and wash them with hot water and dry them or freeze them — bed bugs die in extreme heat or extreme cold. I think there might have been some survivors so they are spraying again this week and hopefully this via crucis can end. As for my neighbour, the landlord is forcing him to do something about it, which is a huge relief. Did I mention they have like eight cats. #eew.

So this is one of the really bad things about new york city: getting bed bugs is very easy. So when/if you move here, do yourself a favour and make sure to buy a new mattress and new furniture. Do not pick anything up from the street. I have done this in the pass in Toronto and nothing has happened so far but I think bed bugs are a bigger problem in this city. I told some people about my problem and it is unfortunately a very common thing. Tell me about the real new york experience, right? #GlassHalfFull

**Trigger warning** Pictures of bed bugs below

ewwwww

Bites (not mine)

The good: Spread Love Party in Greenpoing, BK (and how I avoided a fine)

Based on TV shows, articles in magazines, and my own wild imagination, I constructed a pretty solid yet possibly misguided image of what underground brooklyn dance parties are like, or should be like. I have been looking to experience this ideal since the first time I visited New York during Summer 2011 and the quest only intensified once I moved here in May. It finally came to an end last night at the Spread Love Party in Greenpoint, organized by the Brooklyn Good Guys. I am not sure who the Brooklyn Good Guys are. I just know that they are a collective of artists, musicians (and good guys?) who organize dope events. Dope as in fucking amazing. I found out about this one through a 3rdWard post on their blog about stuff going on this weekend, which you can find here.

The Spread Love Party was advertised as a live dancehall/rap/hip-hop music event with no cover, in front of the waterfront, and to which you could bring your own booze, drinks, beer, liquor, poison…. Now if that doesn’t sound like the best event, I don’t know what would. Unless you hate rap/hip-hop and happiness, in which case you should just die or something. Check out the awesome flyer below.

I went there with a new friend, Julio, who I met through couchsurfing. He’s from El Salvador, just like me! Other couchsurfers as well as my friend Jerome visiting from Quebec joined us later. Julio and I got there super early (around 8:30), with a 6-pack of brooklyn pilsen. We wanted the party to get more ballin’ before going in so just we sat down by the water, a few centimeters away from the venue which was half a construction site & half a backyard (?) behind an apartment building. Low resolution pictures I stole from twitter are below.

We started a-drinking… enjoying the New York skyline and the good enough sunset –mediocre compared to salvadorian sunsets obviously. Two guys came up to us at one point and asked us how to get into the party. Seconds after we directed them, Julio spotted a police car. I know, WHOoaaA.

We instinctively hid the booze behind a concrete slab and i lit a cigarette. Not due to stress but to seem like we had nothing to hide — it made sense in my head at that time. We also started taking pictures of each other as well as excessively and exaggeratedly pointing at the buildings in manhattan, to pretend like we were there for the view, YOU KNOW. The cops didn’t even come to talk to us or anything so IT WORKED! Unfortunately, the guys who asked us how to get in did get a fine. ha! suckers. Just kidding, poor dudes.

I actually took this one

After the cops left, we finally went into the party. I am still not sure if it was somebody’s house or maybe a studio but we definitely went through an apartment-like space. The first DJ set was very good. he was playing some cool vintage Rap and Hip Hop. The second set was OK although he didn’t have any Das Racist and was playing almost all top 40 music, which I dont mind. However, one of the highlights of the night was the live show by the band Nyle vs. the Naysayers, which played at around 10pm (after the first DJ set) and again towards the end of the party (after the second set). They were SO GOOD that Das Racist might have to make some room in my heart for them. Check their website and music here. If I had to describe their musical style, which I am not very good at doing, I would say they are a hip-hop/punk/reaggae group. But who isn’t these days? The important thing is that they fricking rooockkeedddd.

I am not sure if this would qualify as an “underground party” as ir was definitely advertised and the purpose was to celebrate the CD release of Nyle vs. the Naysayers. To be honest I don’t really care. I had so much fun and my friends did too! I think they under the erroneous impression that I am some sort of cool girl who knows about all these ~underground~ events. But I try to explain to them that I am just a really good researcher!!!

The good: I saw Das Racist for free in Brooklyn!

“I’m at the Pizza Hut
I’m at the Taco Bell
I’m at the combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell”

– Das Racist

Anyone a fan of Das Racist? They may come off as a joke rap group at first, but they have a unique hip-hop/electro/rap/hardcore/punk sound that really sets them appart from any other rap group. In addition, they are lyrical geniuses, often inserting a clever racial commentary and obscure references in their songs.

They were playing a FREE show last night at the Red Hook Park, in front of the Recreational Centre, in Brooklyn. The event was part of the SummerStage concert series, which I highly recommend checking out. Find more info about lineups, dates, and locations here. Actually, SummerStage is ran by the organization I am interning at, which is the City Parks Foundation. Represent!!

location

The show was AMAZING, to say the least. The crowd was great. This for me means that most of the people there were over 21, that it was only about 30% white hipster, and that people actually danced. Not bad for a free, all ages show in Brooklyn!

I also discovered some great new muzik: rock/punk group Trouble Andrew and rapper Action Bronson. Action Bronson at one point threw little bags of weed to the crowd and smoked a blunt on stage. I may or may not be in possession of one of those bags. Can you fricking believe it? I still can’t This is America people, and it’s great. Actually NO, this is Brooklyn people, and it’s fucking dope. Literally.

Also I think I fell in love with Dapwell (from Das Racist)

Brooklyn unexpected industrial pockets

On my way to she show from the Caroll St G,F stop

Trouble Andrew

Dapwell (Das Racist)

The good: Bryant Park

In the map I posted yesterday, I mention that Bryant Park is my favourite park. And why is that? Not only is it super close to the New York Public Library, they have a ton of events and cool stuff going on during the summer including:

– Free outdoor movies
– Free classes (yoga, fencing, languages, juggling, etc.)
– Concerts
– Free wi-fi
– Board Games (definitely less than $5, I think $1)

Do check out their events calendar here

Following the advice of Petula Clark,

“When you’re alone and life is making you lonely you can always go down mid town!
When you got worries, All the noise and the hurry seems to help, I know down mid town. Just listen to the music of the traffic in the city,
Linger on the sidewalks where the neon signs are pretty. How can you lose? […]”

The good: My internship at the CPF

So I am interning at the City Parks Foundation (CPF), which is a non-profit organization that runs cool programs in NYC city parks, including Central Park’s Summer stage concert series! I am working in an environmental education program called “learning gardens”. So far, I’m truly enjoying it, learning a lot, and I hope this will help me to make a career out of doing this type of work.

In a nutshell, the program provides a wonderful opportunity for kids and teachers in “high risk” neighbourhoods to come to a a garden and learn about ecology, biology, horticulture, and the environment in general. We have them plant veggies and flowers, write about their experiences, and participate in different arts and crafts activities. I really like hanging out with the kids, talking with the teachers, and learning a little bit more about gardening.

I’ve worked with kids before under various circumstances and with different types of kids. I’ve been a teaching assistant at a private school and a babysitter for a couple of rich or well-off kids; I volunteered in an education a community centre in a culturally and economically diverse area; I also volunteered at a farm in Argentina with at risk children.

One of the things I’ve noticed is that kids from racial, economical, culturally privileged and heterosexual households are harder to get excited about or engage in activities that have to do with self-expression such as story-telling, art, music, dance, etc. They often seem bored, jaded… with a “i don’t need that crap” attitude when you ask them to talk about their thoughts, their experiences. This is presumably, because they’re right, they kind of don’t need to! This is probably a huge generalization, but in most cases, they have had plenty of experiences where they’ve been able to express how they see the world, their thoughts, goals, aspirations, etc. I mean, it’s hard for me to think of instances where these kids could have been subject to any type of oppression or discrimination. Amirite?

In contrast, kids who’ve had tougher experiences such as belonging to racialized sections of the population, living in these so-called high risk neighbourhoods, coming from single-parent or abusive households (well, you get what i mean) are very much appreciative of these opportunities for self-expression. These kids I’m working with were very open to talk about their feelings, what they had learned and gained from the program, and what they wish for their community. It was such a non-issue – everyone was ready to talk about it. I found that very interesting. I mean, they’re still a handful but they’re nice kids, tough kids.

Well, here are some pictures 🙂

Bushwick

Gates stn

Nasturtium

Unripe strawberries

The ugly: I went to an art Gallery, had free booze, met someone with a dali mustache

My friend K and I went to this art show at a gallery in the lower east side the other day. My main motivation was to drink some free wine and check out the artsy people who go to these events, and their outfits. To me, drinking free alcohol whilst being surrounded by pretty things, pretty people, interesting things, and interesting people seems like a good way to start any night. And it was! As always, K and I were on a quest for meeting new friends. Eventually, a guy came up to us and started chatting. He also introduced us to this other guy, a friend maybe, who was sporting a dali mustache.  

Waxed mustache

A “waxed mustache” seems to be a thing now amongst self-proclaimed stylish/hip New Yorkers – youth and oldth alike. Who knows why or how these things resurge as a trend. No offence to Salvador Dali, but that shit’s gross and nowadays pretty unoriginal too. I mean, it’s been done! So I do wonder what the rationale is for making such a grotesque statement. On your face, no less. This guy at the gallery is not the first one I’ve seen sporting the trend. I’ve already spotted dozens in libraries, cafés, universities, restaurants, bars, the L train, harlem… there’s really no escape.

I am generally a facial hair enthousiast but when I was talking to this peculiar guy at the gallery, I noticed tiny dust particles trapped within the wax as well as mysterious crystals sprinkled throughout his long, erect mustache. Maybe more dust, drugs, sweat, or solidified wax? Either way, it was quite repulsive.

I feel bad criticizing this guy for his appearance because he was very nice, he seemed like an interesting photographer and gave us many tips on what to do and where to eat in LA, which is where he was from, sorta. A walking cliché this guy, eh? Well so am I, probably. But anyways, I also feel like a jerk because people, I guess, should do and wear whatever the fuck they want as long as they don’t hurt anybody. Individualism! Assuming that his waxed mustache does not qualify as a sharp object, he was far from doing so. Still, I am advocate for the death of the trend.

The ugly: How I went out by myself last night and enjoyed it

Park Slope (A) and Williamsburg (B)

Last night was a tough one for me. There were two events I really wanted to go to and no one to go with. Cool Brazilian music playing in a Park Slope bar and a cool DJ party/art thang in Williamsburg with an open bar. An open bar! We don’t get those in Canada, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal there to have fun give out alcohol for free at a party, which is shitty makes sense.

I generally consider myself a single girl, unless otherwise specified. I was also an only child for over 12 years. So you would think I would be OK and totally cool with being alone or doing things by myself. Surprise: I am not! I texted the following people: two new friends I made last weekend; this friend I knew from before; my cousin; couchsurfing people. Granted, I tried to organize things a little to late in the evening but no one seemed to be available. They either got back too me to late, had other plans, were not in the city, or just didn’t respond. Why would anyone not respond to a text/call? SO RUDE, amirite? Man, I’ve slept with the person who didn’t get back to me. I would never even do that to an enemy.

First, I felt like a less cheerful version of this:

CLICK ON ME

Then, I was like:

CLICK ON ME

And so with all the support of my friend Talia, whom I was skyping with at the time and telling her about how I had NO FRIENDS, I decided to just go out by myself. I really wanted to check out these events, more importantly they were free, and I just couldn’t stand the (otherwise great) idea of staying home to watch an episode of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit before going to bed. So I went and to be honest, it wasn’t the most fun I’ve had in years but I did have more fun than I was expecting. More importantly, I went out and did exactly what I wanted. Oh! And I had some delicious pizza before coming home, which is always good.

My night ended in Williamsburg at the loft part, very close to the East River waterfront. Since I was flying solo that night and didn’t have to wait for anyone, I left the party as soon as I got tired of it. Of course, not before getting my free drinks, dancing for a bit, and talking to some hipsters that I will hopefully never encounter again. I then walked to a nearby park on the waterfront overlooking Manhattan. I sat there for maybe 20 minutes looking at all the buildings, wondering how many people were still working and stupid shit like that. I listened to the pixies, reflected, and cried a little bit because I was drunk and friendless. That was probably my favourite part of the night (I’m serious).

I guess the morale of the story is that no matter how shitty people are with you, you can always count on yourself to make you happy. If other people are mean to you, at least you can choose to be good to yourself. Rather than feeling sad about myself, I decided to go out and have a little adventure and I also conquered my fears of doing things by myself. I am really really happy I did it and I feel a little bit more powerful.

The good: Meeting my cousin for the first time at an illegal bar

Have you ever red One Hundred Years of Solitude by Garcia Marquez? If not, skip to the second paragraph or go read it and then come back. I suggest the second. I first read the book when I was around 17 years old and I have been convinced ever since that my family is the real-life incarnation of the Buendia family. We, the Aranivas have it all: notoriety in a small town in El Salvador, a killer patriarch, a Rebeca who used to eat dirt (ca c’est moi), emotional unavailability, forbidden love stories, a longevous matriarch, and you know… we’re kinda weird-quirky-yet-awesome.

I am an Araniva on my mothers’ side so I unfortunately do not carry the name but I feel more Araniva than anything. My father is mexican and he doesn’t get along with his family all that much. I barely know who they are and I’ve met my dad’s family maybe three times in my entire life. But I don’t mind at all. Although small, the Aranivas are a pretty tight clan and it’s all the family I need.

A couple of years ago, my cousin Fran created a Facebook group for all the Aranivas to join and keep in touch since we are all scattered throughout America and Europe. As a side-note, he’s my mother’s cousin so I think I should call him my cousin once removed, but who has time for that shit?

So anyways, the group remained open and people from everywhere started joining. It was pretty neat because we all turned out to be somewhat related. Let it be known that Araniva is actually an alternative spelling of the basque last name Araniba or Aranibar. It is fairly uncommon outside of the small town of Chinameca in El Salvador. One way or another, all Aranivas are connected. When the group was first created I thought “omg this is sooo lamerz, I’m totes ~tooo kewl for this~ who r this random pple anywayzzz?” so I didn’t join.

Eventually my mom befriended on of the people in the group, a girl living in new york. She dreams of going to Peru and I think that’s how she started talking to my mom, who travels to Peru every so often for work. I noticed on my Facebook feed that they’d write on each other’s walls and like each other’s comments. I didn’t think too much of it until I visited new york last summer with my friend Talia and I decided to contact this “fake” cousin of mine. Our schedules ended up conflicting and we missed each other.

This weekend, we finally met up! She took me to this really cool reggae show/party in Bushwick, Brooklyn which is the new Williamsburg or in other words, the new up-and-coming hipster artsy neighbourhood. Half overpriced bars and pretentiousness, half interesting people and places. The event was held at this illegal bar, meaning that some dudes’ decided to sell booze in their converted loft without a liquor license. In case big brother is reading, I will keep the address to myself. Although apparently every other house in Bushwick is an illegal bar (in other words a huge party).

Guys, this was totally like Party Girl’s opening scene:

Except the guy charging cover was not as charismatic as Parker Posey. And no cops came. Also, the bathroom had barbed wire, as pictured below:

SPOOKY

My cousin used to live there and I highly considered moving there but the barbed wire kind of threw me off.

Also make sure you watch Party Girl! It’s a great movie.