Friends & Family,
I've moved to New York. On Saturday I took possession of a studio apartment in the East Village.
My new address is:
(Whenever I write that address, I wonder where zipcode 10001 is. That would be even cooler, I bet.)(redacted)New York City, 10003
United States of America
My apartment is in a good location, with windows that face away from the street. It has plenty of light and a hardwood floor, but a lot of sloppy details. There is a garden on the ground floor in the back which is technically off-limits, but in practice freely available to tenants. What really sold me on this place, though, was this: When I asked the super, "what's the best thing about this apartment?". His answer: "The People". And while I haven't met them all, his word seems true to me. The people are what's good about this apartment, and the people are what's good about New York.
Building a household from scratch is expensive and time-consuming, but at this point I have at least a comfortable bed and working utilities. Over the next week I'll buy flatware and dishes, and then I can consider all the necessities covered. It's tiring not to have these things covered (still no seating), but it's also exciting to know I'll be here for years.
Getting to this point, however, took about 10 days of frustrating and tiring apartment searching, including much waiting, teeth-gnashing, and worrying. The whole thing nearly fell apart at the end when my bank failed to print cashier's checks as promised (and as required by the management company), and then managed to take over 5 hours to process a wire transfer, despite constant prodding. But my broker (who always takes an enormous fee) stepped in and cut the checks on my good word, so I got the keys on Friday.
Getting a bed into my apartment was similarly troublesome, however: I had scheduled a mover to come on Saturday, but he didn't show up and I was left sleeping on the floor. Sunday came and the story was the same: A different mover this time, but still absent. Finally I managed to flag down a man with a van, and the bed was moved. Through this I have learned an important lesson: Do not buy a bed while tired. It's a good bed, but not as good as I remember.
The good side of the last two weeks of searching has also been the people. The youth hostel I stayed at, the Chelsea Center Hostel East (not in Chelsea, but rather in the East Village) is a terrible hostel filled with great people. It was interesting to be on the other side of the meeting-domestic-tourists game, but I made some good friends. Two of the people I met at the hostel will be in New York for several months, so it was an especially good experience. My thanks especially to Clemence, Aurélie, and Lawrence for their moral and very real support.
You may be wondering, dear reader, whatever prompted me to move to New York. After I finished my trip and worked for McDonald's for 4 months (to see what it was like), I decided to become a police officer. I pursued that as ardently as my faculties would allow, but ultimately failed: By the time I came to New York, I had been rejected by 10 different departments.
In the beginning failure was not even in my imagination, but when it came into view I decided to quit if I could not start academy by the end of this year. That date came and went, and I was left with the question of what to do instead. I couldn't think of any good ideas, but I knew that wherever I went or whatever I did, I wanted to stay in one place for several years. The bay area didn't feel like the right place, though, and after a lot of thinking (and a visit), I settled on New York. Instead of pursuing an interesting occupation (my attitude for at least the last year), my project here is to experiment with human relations.
It seems to me that everyone knows someone in New York; I suppose that at this point, you all know at least one. But I am always on the outlook for interesting people. If you know some in this slice of the world, put me in touch.
All the best,
--Ian Turner
