Between Avenues B and C

Although Alphabet City is not as wild as it once was, you can still find the unexpected.  On this hot Saturday afternoon, someone removed the cover for the fire-hydrant for the benefit of the community!

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Morningside Heights Salsa

Friday, 11:00PM. Havana Central, Morningside Heights, NYC.  

They cleared the dance floor and stole the show – Sophia and Benito.  

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Cubans in Portrait

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Stream of Consciousness on Cuba

La Habana

The sounds of Havana wake you early in the morning.  Dreams are disturbed from the first rooster around 6am followed by pumping music, playing children, and vintage 1950′s American cars’ horns, all in full swing by 8.  It doesn’t matter, because a full day and night in Havana will make anyone sleep like a baby, despite the chaos.

Waking up in a casa particalur is quite the experience.  In Cuba, in lieu of expensive hotels, young travelers often opt for the casa, the Cuban version of a bed and breakfast.  Not only is it a good way to save money, the close interaction will test your high school Spanish (mine was a bit stronger than I thought, although not much) and allow you to experience Cuban culture at its fullest. The owners know the city and country as good as anyone and are full of good advice, if you can manage to communicate with them. When finished with one casa, the owner will gladly assist you in finding your next place to stay, making the experience  seamless.

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Habana

The best plan for wandering the streets of Havana is to have no plan at all.  Cubans approached us with many requests, ranging from the simple where are you from, to the all-too-common, “cigars? Are you lost?”  When we would respond we are from New York, a smile and look of surprise would appear.  American! Welcome! One interaction led us to meet George, a 38 year old lawyer who quit his job for the government (making $18 a month) to play music on the streets.  George took us around for a few nights, showing us a local spot where his friend’s band was playing, taking us to a salsa joint, and finally inviting us to his home for dinner.

Most Cubans live like George, barely getting by.  We paid for the food to prepare dinner. While it was only a small amount for each of us, the leftovers fed George’s family for a week.  It worked out for everyone. Located on a run-down street in Central Havana, George’s apartment was much smaller than mine in New York.  The food, however, was much better than any I had ever prepared in my apartment, leaving us stuffed before another night of mojitos, cigars, and music.  Each night we met, George wore the same shirt and when walking in the streets, he stayed a few meters ahead to avoid rousing suspicion by the Police.

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Another Cuban we met was in the park next to the Capital where men gather everyday for hours to talk baseball.  After quickly befriending him, the following day he took us to game 3 of the Cuban world series.  The Havana Insdustriales played Villa Clara – and I normally can’t stand baseball, but this experience was not to forget.

After we arrived at the stadium, we shelled out $1 for the game (remember, this is the Cuban National Championship).  Cubans pay a mere 15 cents per ticket.  Cubans are the first to admit that these days they don’t have more than baseball and music to keep them happy, so they indulge in both.  Baseball is everywhere.  Kids play in every nook and cranny imaginable, and this takes ingenuity in the city.  Since baseballs are in short supply, a bottle cap or tightly crunched up paper ball makes do.

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And how about the travelers we met?  Since Cuba is not the most accessible place on the one hand, and not totally remote on the other, it draws a balance of interesting people. The most glaring difference from other places I have been is the lack of American tourists – which was unfortunately reinforced by our one night stay in Cancun on the way home. In Cuba there was Martin from Denmark living in Dubai, Roy and Holly from NYC, Naomi from England, Marie and Slyvaine from France, Liad from Israel, and Isabella and Selina from Austria, just to name a few.   Everyone was in the travel mindset, which makes it easy to approach others and meet new people.  While some interactions were as short as a 2 minute conversation on the street, others lasted hours or even days.

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Havana Vibes

Music is in the blood of the Cubans.  Many Cubans joke that with little to do during the day, they turn to music and baseball, excelling at both.  While baseball players earn $18 a month, professional musicians can often do better due to tourist tips.  There is no shortage of musicians that play for money,  but throw nearly any Cuban a guitar, trumpet, or Piano and you get the sense they came from the womb knowing how to play.  Watch them sing or dance, and you realize (or at least I realized) that some things are just genetic.

When we arrived in Havana on a Friday afternoon, it didn’t take long for us to find our go-to spot.  A perfect start to a perfect trip, the sounds of the trumpet, maracas, and guitar courted us inside.  Before long we found ourselves sitting in an outdoor patio sipping our first of many (many) Havana Club mojitos,  smoking cohiba cigars,  listening to Hector the trumpeter, Aldo the guitarist, and Simone the drummer perform, and making our way into the first Havana night.  All in their mid-sixties, the musicians told us they  played together for 55 years.  Once they began to play their second song, Chan Chan, I knew this would be a trip to never forget.  We returned to the Hanoi cafe each of the 6 days we spent in Havana, every time leaving more satisfied than the last. Not only did these three teach us about the Cuban music tradition, they also introduced us to another recurring theme – the genuine kindness of the Cuban people and their desire to tell you about their story, and learn about yours.

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Throughout the trip music was one of the blissful reminder that we were in a foreign yet amazing place. And yes, I know it sounds cliche, but we felt right at home.  Music wakes you up at 8am and follows you throughout the day.  People are spontaneously dancing in the streets to whatever song happens to be blasting from the apartment above.  A few more examples can be seen blow: the little girl dancing to the vibes of a band in a cafe in the Vedado neighborhood, a Sunday afternoon rumba party (take note of his shirt), some ballet dancers, and the performance we caught on the last night of the only remaining member of the Beuna Vista Social Club.

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El Barrio

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Usnavi from In The Heights :

“That was Abuela, she’s not really my Abuela
But she practically raised me
This corner is her escuela
Now you’re prob’ly thinkin
‘I’m up on shit’s creek
I never been north of 96th street”

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If you’ve seen the Broadway hit “In the Heights” you would know that the above phrase is actually referring to Washington Heights, but much the same can be said for Spanish Harlem, the so-called “no man’s land” just above the Upper East Side of Manhattan. In fact, I recently met a girl who grew up on the Upper East Side and never in her life “crossed the border” of 96th Street!  While I found this unfathomable, I quickly realized it was her loss and not mine.  Indeed, Spanish Harlem is one of the few neighborhoods left in Manhattan that retains any innate character.   “El Barrio”, as it is called, is full of Abuelas, bodegas, enchiladas and salsa (dancing).   Although suspiciously quiet during the week, late Friday and Saturday nights are lively  reprieves where one is no less likely to see families with small children on the streets as they are nighttime revelers. After coming home from a party yesterday I was not quite ready to call it a night.  I grabbed my camera and starting walking north, and this is what I found.

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Thai X-ING

Written By Vincent Kitira

A few weeks back my roommate told me about a place called Thai X-ing, not far from our house in Washington, DC. I decided to check it out one night, and I have not been to any other Thai restaurants in DC since then. The restaurant is as much about the entire experience as it is about the food, which is very very good. While going out to eat can almost seem monotonous with robot-like servers, loud dining rooms with cramped-together tables, and absolutely no connection between the diner and the chef making the food, Thai X-ing has completely the opposite.

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First, you have to make a reservation AND order your dishes well in advance. This is done to allow Chef Taw ample time to prepare each dish and to buy the ingredients that are required. While this may be frustrating to Americans who are used to very accommodating restaurants, especially since calling several times may be necessary for you to get a reservation, this is quickly overlooked once you arrive. The restaurant is on the ground floor of a rowhouse in a up-and-coming part of DC, the Shaw neighborhood. You can walk right past the entrance, which is marked with a wooden “THAI X-ING” sign and lots of random jungle-like decorations. It can certainly be mistaken for the front facade of a building of an eccentric person who go carried away with decorating. Once you walk through the dark entryway, you enter the candle-lit dining room, which has 3 tables. The tables and chairs follow no particular design scheme…if it feels like you’re sitting in someone’s house, that’s because you are.

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There is a birdcage with a parakeet chirping quietly in the corner, plenty of Asian trinkets and artifacts, and random books and permits lining the dining room. Sometimes Taw is by himself, sometimes he is helped by a cadre of loyal volunteers who help in the kitchen and as servers. Beer and wine are not served, but you can bring your own, as long as you are discreet.

Onto the food. The attention to detail and authentic, fresh ingredients are what makes the food really stand out. Each plate is lined with banana leaves that have been frozen in Thailand and imported to the US. The Red Curry with Duck is extremely rich, with a creamy coconut milk based sauce and super-tender duck leg and thigh that falls off the bone. The soups are all tangy and pungent. Everything I’ve had (about half the menu) has been extremely palatable, but some dishes may be too spicy for some (such as the Yum Nuea, Spicy Beef Salad).

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For dessert, the Mango with Sticky Rice is a winner as long as the Mango is ripe. The place accepts credit cards (to my pleasant surprise). If you go in with an open mind for a dining experience unlike any other, you’ll most certainly walk away with a full stomach and a smile on your face. You may even want to make reservations for your next Thai X-ing meal before leaving.

Recently, I volunteered to help Taw in the kitchen…I helped chop veggies, wash dishes, serve customers, and even got to make my own dish when we lacked all the ingredients (a papaya-lime/mango-coconut dessert). The evening flew by as I rushed up and down the tiny corridors of the kitchen, making sure not to get in Taw’s way. I made a couple mistakes, but there were no large disasters. In the middle of the night, my friend Ryan came in with a friend from out of town. Ryan’s been raving about this place as much as I have since I told him about it. At the very end of the night, a group of 10 puppeteers came and we sat them upstairs in Taw’s own living space. They ate then gave Taw, myself, and a couple other volunteers a free puppet show while we ate our dinner! It was a unique experience indeed, and one that I will never forget.

Thai X-ing is more than just a restaurant. It is a community center. The fact that people willingly go there to help in a kitchen without expecting reward is a testament to the comfort level achieved by Taw and his restaurant. The clientele base grew organically and spread through word of mouth. There are far more calls per night than the ability to accommodate all interested diners. It could definitely benefit from a larger space, but I feel that would sacrifice the homey feel of the place. It is truly a hidden gem, and might be a completely one-of-a-kind dining experience.

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Chelsea Galleries

One of the recommended ways to spend an afternoon in New York is to make your way to the long blocks of Chelsea and wander in and out of the art galleries for a few hours.  The world of modern art may seem daunting and at times irrational, but if you’re armed with an open mind, the experience can be surreal and enjoyable.

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Nostalgic New York

After living in New York City for over two and a half years, I am routinely disappointed to find that New York today does not match the various images of New York alive inside my head.  These timeless images, ranging from colonial New York to New York of the 1980′s were formed from movies, books, and stories alike.  Sometimes they do appear, primarily as vestiges of the past – usually without warning and catching me completely off-guard.  The latest occurrence was one recent evening while I walked south on Lexington Avenue towards Midtown.

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Music for Haiti

For an hour on Sunday evening, a small party room in the luxury high-rise at 220 Riverside Boulevard was completely transformed, as an eclectic group of New Yorkers gathered to raise money for Haiti earthquake victims and groove to the Caribbean vibes of Haitian band Zing Experience.  The benefiting group was Project Haiti, a small Norwegian organization running a school in the Delmas neighborhood of Port-au-Prince.  Luckily the school still stands, and has been transformed temporarily into a disaster relief center and shelter.

Despite our new and tragic familiarity with Port-au-Prince, to most of us Haiti still seems a world away. Before the earthquake even many of us who had vacationed in the Dominican Republic had given little thought to the small, poverty-stricken country just a few miles to the west.

Zing Experience, consisting of Paul Beaubrun and Cynthia Casasola, brought the tragedy much closer to home.  The Port-au-Prince-based partners traveled to New York, and had planned on returning soon with their children to their home country, until the earthquake struck.  Suddenly they found themselves stranded in Gotham, not knowing if their house was still standing, or who from their friends and family had survived the disaster.  Although they didn’t say it, it was obvious that playing music was an escape for them, allowing them to forget the dire situation that they and their country face.

When he started to speak,  Paul Beaubrun became very emotional.  He promised that it wouldn’t happen again (not that it bothered anyone), and channeled that emotion into his music.  Between the reggae and creole melodies Beaubrun would often bellow out a defiant “ayibobo!”, roughly translated as “hallelujah” or “blessed.”  The crowd would enthusiastically respond, and then the show would go on.

Unfortunately it often takes a shocking tragedy to catch our attention, if only for a second.  But it is in these moments that we also realize the common bond of humanity we all share.

Donate

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