Where have you gone my New York?

I am trying to soak New York in like a tourist. As though I have never been here before. With fresh eyes and alert ears and a perky nose that is allured by the smell of freshly baked peanut butter cookies and almond hamentasch. I had a lovely weekend last week that started on Friday night with a drinks-and-dinner reunion with my friends. I was so blissful and satisfied by the experience it freaked me out. To allow myself to feel happy. To be so happy that I could burst. It started with some wine and a snackies at a highly corporate bar attached to Grand Central, but we were too in our own world to be bothered by all the suits. Condensed re-caps of an entire year were exchanged, engagement rings oggled over, and at the end of it all it was like we picked up just where we left off.

We followed it up with a Mexican meal in our old college neighborhood, which was surreal. It was like the backdrop for a flashback in a movie featuring the same characters in the same kind of moments, except now they were a little older, and hopefully a little wiser. Just like college, we turned the occasion into a faux-birthday - thereby allowing us to indulge in free strawberry mousse cake and the delightful feeling of a Mexican waiter pouring pineapple flavored tequilla down our throats. Good times.

After a bit of this debauchery, I went to spend the night at my little brother's apartment. Even though I'm five years older than him, I'm starting to feel like the little sister. He lives in a posh sky scraping Manhattan building on the 19th floor, with a beautiful view that includes the Statue of Liberty. Although his style of living still has wonderful collegiate traces - his fridge only had a huge box of leftover pizza and his microwave housed a plate of food that was unregonizably solidified - I knew he had grown up a lot in the last year. He has a tough job, for which he leaves when it is dark in the morning and returns when it is dark at night. We lazed around his apartment, enjoyed his flat screen TV and all its on-demand features and whatnot before crashing out.

The next morning we were characteristically indecisive about where to go for brunch, and finally decided to go to Union Square and just walk around until we found something. I already knew a few restaurants that I liked in the area, but as we were walking around, we kept finding that so many had shut down and were plastered with "For Rent: Prime Retail" signs. And those restaurants that were still running were not even open (on a Saturday afternoon!) - the chairs were stacked on the tables and a feeling of gloom and reality was setting in. The recession has clearly taken its toll - and it's just the beginning. I know New York city and the country as a whole are resilient, but I have never seen it like this before. Not even after 9/11. I can't wait to see it back to its bubbling, pulsating, self.

and here we go again...

I love technology, most of the time. I love it right now, for instance, as I sit in the Bangalore (sorry, Bengalooru) Airport using their free Wifi to check my mail on my laptop (which hasn't happened in a few weeks). Sometimes it's overwhelming, that constant connectedness. I like quiet time - time when I can't be reached, time when I don't feel obligated to contact someone else, time to be with my thoughts. But right now, I like that I can be in this airport and almost forget that I am here.

Time and space completely perplex me. This morning, I was in Jayanagar 4th Block. Tomorrow afternoon, I will be with my Dad (yeah!) driving home on the Taconic Parkway to my home in our longtime baby blue Toyota Camry. It's not deep or unusual - people travel all the time. But when I sit back and think about it, I go through this whole "What the fuck?" moment. What does it all mean?? Nothing of course. It just means that we have airplanes.

It's ridiculous how humans are. The moment we have something, we want something else. The moment I left New York, I dreamed of exotic cheeses that I would miss and sinful pastries. And Mexican food. The moment I got to the airport today, I had this "anxiety craving" for things I wouldn't get for a couple of months. Alu buns. Samosas. Kachoris. So I promptly ordered a pav bhaji and salt lassi as though it were my last supper.

The more I get used to a bi-continental lifestyle, the more I feel grateful that I have several places to call my home. And by home, I mean places where I feel so incredibly welcome and at ease. Cities where I feel total control in getting around, knowing where to get what. The other day somebody in Bangalore asked me for directions and I gave them with confidence, like a local. Another day, I walked through a dense crowd of people just to buy a few samosas - normally I would have been deterred by the sight of the people. But I totally busted through (while talking on my cell phone, like a true Indian!) and ordered in Kannada and even had a small conversation. These little encounters are like mini triumphs for me and make me feel like this really is another home of mine too.

And now, off to my other home, wtih its bountiful clean air and snowstorms and my wonderful new President.