The art of falling

Almost a month since I came back from Ghana has passed. I am losing the sense that I WAS there.
But, it is inevitable to be charmed by New York’s bustle and hustle and this is why I have not written about my life here. But I shall start.
First and foremost, I found a home with my new roommate Dani who is no less than amazing. She actually has a blog too. I moved to the financial district, which is almost paradoxical to my indie self but I had a good feeling about the prospect of living here and I have very much enjoyed it so far. I lie to myself saying that I (sort of) have a view of the Brooklyn Bridge from my (tiny) balcony ;)






The seaport was hit very hard during Sandy but it has received a lot of attention and remediation efforts have been very successful here. (There is still a lot of work to get done in the Rockaways and Staten Island)



Before moving here though I was apartment hopping. I am so grateful for Alex and Rahma who received me in their places. Those few days I was able to get a better sense of Washington Heights and I am also thankful for that. Walking up Saint Nicholas Av. transported me back to the Dominican Republic and because of listening and speaking Spanish I felt very comfortable. May be I’ll move up there at some point.

The past few weekends have been very different from each other. There was the salsa congress at the Hilton Hotel (which reminded me my salsa dancing skills are not from schooling), visiting the cloisters (back in Medieval times), beer garden chill at the seaport with Melissa and Diego, the whimsical “Tempest” at Shakespeare in the Park –dream come true thanks to Jen-, Slam poetry Friday at the Nuyorican, Smorgasburg in Williamsburg for great food and many many other outings that my memory is not durable enough to hold –that’s why it is so important to be in the moment-.

At the Cloisters


There were also dark times. In a nutshell, I got scared that I almost lost my finger. To access care was more difficult than expected – considering I am a public health student at a medical center- I was told this would be fixed. Suma came to my rescue with moral support and a much needed cleansing. She gave me a bracelet to protect me from the evil eye. Also with red beads, just like what we use for babies when they are born in Ecuador. Coincidence? Many people may call that superstition, I call that timeless wisdom. More to come on this. Everything has become a bit lighter since. Now I can actually celebrate that I have accepted a job offer! Yes, I will continue working for the project that I was working for in Ghana until June 2014.

I must admit that I have not written all of this time mainly because I need to condense my thoughts about the Yasuni ITT initiative and its cancellation. I need a plan of action but time is running out. I promised myself I will write about this soon, that I will do something about this soon. I will. I am ashamed I have been using the excuse of being far away. The collective can now hold me accountable.

That Monday after the first week of class I went to Karate. I had not practiced since I was 10 years old when I refused to go with the girls to modeling class during summer camp and begged my way into Karate. All I remember was ichi, ni, san but not any movements. While practicing I was reminded of Paloma’s journal of movements in “The elegance of the hedgehog”. How graceful the movement of the world can be and is. I just have to go back to basics and learn to fall, not just for gracefulness sake. It is a true art.

I am also picking up Mandarin again. I was attending university classes but now I will be attending an institute in Chinatown. I am very excited. I have recovered my old Chinese name: Wàn Mēi Lín, which means beautiful sounds of jade.

Shashwat gave me his acoustic guitar (because he is a metal head and does not use it anymore). Music is by far the greatest gift of all. I will be playing as much as I can (hopefully Dani will actually enjoy it).

Final thoughts, recurring since I have been meaning to write:

BEST COMIC STRIP to have ever been drawn and written. Thanks Camille!

In the prospect of human rights abuses, whose role and to what extent should they intervene? I favor conflict resolution but I wouldn’t call military intervention that. What is the most appropriate practice in this context with Syria? I was surprised to read this from Kristof. 

Anybody who can call him/herself humble, is not. 
Something on exceptionalism. 



Afia


A romantic in the making


Somethings NYers do that I had forgotten (and the line goes on)


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