Sunday 10th June

In praise of the fender….

I don’t suppose many people give boat fenders any thought at all.  It was one of my jobs on 2XS to put our fenders out when we were about to tie up to a wharf, marina, boat, whatever, and to haul them back in and stash them in the forward hold when we had finished.  The 2XS fenders are long tubular thingies, made of thick white rubbery waterproof material, and filled, presumably with air.  They withstand an enormous amount of battering, with the full weight of 2XS banging against them, squashing them against hard jetties, rusty ladders, great big strong fishing boats.  By the end of our trip they had deflated just a bit, but they were just as reliable at buffering 2XS from hard, dangerous surfaces.  I grew very fond of them, and would put them away in the hold at the end of their latest ordeal with much love and care.  I always intended to write a tribute to them – three tubular ones which came with the boat and a scattering of smaller odd-shape ones which we have found along the way.  But now it is a bit late…one of them disappeared overboard when we were coming under the bridge, about to approach the Lindisfarne marina.  I hope whoever finds it loves and appreciates it as much as it deserves.  (And no, in case you are wondering, very surprisingly, it was not my fault…)

NYC #3

Set off on foot for Chinatown, which seemed close on the map, but was not, really.  On the way I passed a real food line, where people, including families with children, were lining up for eggs, bananas and dollops of cooked rice.  Yesterday Barbara and I gave money to a charity which feeds the homeless and we were told that our contributions would feed 48 people. I think there were about 48 people in the "line".  As I walked further signs began to appear in shop windows saying "food stamps accepted here".  Compare and contrast to the $22 million one bedroom Park Lane apartment.
As I walked the streetscape changed abruptly from downtown New York to generic Chinatown.  I could have been in Vietnam, Penang, anywhere in Asia.  There are more Chinese people living there, according to the guide book, than anywhere else outside of China.  It is very hot here, but for the first time in New York I saw people wearing hats to shade them from the sun.  (In Brooklyn Heights we saw a school group of children about five years old sitting in the sun for about a half hour drawing the Manhattan skyline, and not one was wearing a hat nor were the teachers.  It was 32 degrees Celsius). 

Back to Chinatown.  It is enormous, stretching all the way from south of Soho to the Projects under the Manhattan Bridge .  Anyway, I bought some fresh lychees and then went to a dumpling shop where I ordered some pork and some vegetable dumplings and some Chinese tea.  It cost $5.42 (everything in America is in strange amounts and the one cent piece is in constant use).  When it came it was enough for a family of five, although most delicious I had to leave a lot.  The tea came in an enormous paper cup, although it was real leaf tea.  There was enough to fill two teapots and I carried it around for about an hour until it was cool enough to drink.  All drinks here seem to be served in the most ginormous containers, even when you ask for a small one.

Throughout New York there are vast numbers of people who virtually work for tips alone.  In 1996 a "tipped minimum wage" of $2.13 per hour (mainly swallowed up by taxes) was introduced due to the lobbying of the restaurant industry.  It was meant to be temporary, but still exists and has not increased.  The real minimum wage in non-tipping industries is $9.04.  That means, literally, that all our waitpersons are relying on our tips to live on, even in the cheapest of places, where tips are likely to be minimal.  There is no push on to increase this, although there is a huge push to reduce taxes for the "middle" class on more than $1million per annum.

After walking around Chinatown for a few hours I walked back, following "our" park, the Sara Roosevelt Park, which, although quite narrow, goes for several blocks.  It is very different from parks at home.  It has a children's playground (with a sign saying adults are not allowed unless accompanied by children), a soccer field, permanent table tennis tables, a "golden age" centre and basketball courts.  All of which were being used.  And, of course, homeless people on the park benches. Along the walkers' path came a thirty piece brass band, publicising, of all things, "Milk not Jails" - a farmers' initiative in support of criminal justice reform.

Yesterday, when we went through Harlem in our bus, there was a huge and noisy "line" of black men, who, apparently, had been queuing for the latest sneakers, including staying overnight on the pavement.  There is such an incredible range of sneakers here.  Harlem has been cleaned up to a large extent.  Columbia University has bought up huge tracts of housing for student housing, ousting the druggies who used to inhabit it.  The bus commentary said that there used to be dealers on every corner, dealing brazenly.  One imagines, with a large student population, that there are a probably a number still operating, although perhaps more clandestinely.

Now to have a wee rest, before venturing out in another direction later, when it is a bit cooler.
I am warming to this apartment now, and have decided that it is eccentric, rather than unlivable-inable.