Rain

I never before would have classified myself as a city person, and I think I still wouldn't. I don't need the skyscrapers and sidewalks and masses of unfamiliar crowds. I do, however, need the endless possibility for chance and exploration. I'm coming to realize that one of my favorite things to do here is just to walk. I'll walk wherever I want to go, wherever is unfamiliar and holds the promise of something new. I have yet to be disappointed - I actually find that I most dislike having to turn around, for whatever reason that suddenly seems inconsequential in comparison to my wandering adventures. My right hip has been sore almost constantly since I got here two weeks ago, surely from the walking that adds up in miles without my realizing it.

It's funny, but I associate this adventuring with hiking out in the wilderness. To me, this city is and will always be a wilderness, and even though the mountains are made of concrete and there are convenience stores every few blocks, it becomes quite an ordeal to give yourself up to the chance of getting completely lost or worse. My backpack has actually gotten more use as a survival tool on expeditions than it has been used for carrying books. I think the best part, for me, is that it's impossible to feel confined. It might take me at least a year to see each neighborhood of this city, and it would certainly take me a lifetime to become familiar with all of it.

Add to this the countless restaurants, the concerts that occur literally underground, the museums that house centuries of knowledge and art - having cash is undeniable a must. Ironically, I can't be so bothered as to pay a cover charge for a club when I can get fantastic mexican and Corona (not to mention some space to breathe, talk and laugh) for the same price. And then there's the stuff that happens for free, the moments that come up out of the blue and slip away just as fast. I happened to pass through Washington Square Park yesterday, only to find that a band was playing some really great jazz for anyone to hear. I left an hour and a half later. Likewise, on a walk home the other day, I passed a furious woman on a cell phone, holding a diamond engagement ring over the street gutter and telling the person on the phone, "I'm really going to drop it! I swear! Where am I, at Spring and Lafayette and... OK, I'm dropping it!" I kept looking back to see if she'd do it, and I'm glad in hindsight that I didn't see the conclusion to the story - I'm hoping she put it back on her finger and went home to resolve the issue face-to-face.

And now it's pouring, soaking the city through on a Saturday night. The rain just lingers so much longer when the drains are crowded and the sidewalks become waterfalls. Few things could slow this place down, but we've all needed a good rain for a long time. The cabbies are getting great business, but there really is much less temptation to go outside when you know you'll arrive at your destination looking like you just jumped into a lake. Other things go on as usual - the dance studio in the building across the street is busy, although I think this isn't a formal class because there's a dog on the dance floor. One floor above that is another studio of sorts - a movie's being filmed in a cramped loft, and the only reason I can tell is because they blocked every window except for one. The 24-hour window-service restaurant on the corner is lacking its usual crowd, mostly because a fresh hot dog would be soaked about ten seconds after its purchase.

The rain finally made me stay in, so I'm getting things done. Sort of. Well, not really, because it's now 7:30 and I think time for dinner and a movie. Even I have space now, though - the rain sent my roommate home, so that I'm comfortable again and not reminded of, well, her.

What do I like most? Not knowing what's next.