I am not a Jewish American Princess

Erika took me to SoHo. From there we walked to Chinatown. From there we walked to Little Italy.

All the restaurant staff of the different restaurants stand outside and beckon you in with talk of "the best canoli this side of W45 St" and "all you can eat pasta, only $8" or "cheap cheap Chinese food, only 3 dollar eat lots eat lots" (okay maybe that last one was a little bit racist, but 'everyone's a little bit racist' ^_~).

After Little Italy was Union Square. New York is big. New York is condensed. New York is spread out. Chinatown and Little Italy are all larger versions of the San Francisco counterparts, and yet it is all pushed together and each are fighting the other for expansion and contraction of their turf. Despite the vast amount of space, the Chinese and Italians are shoulder to shoulder, silently ignoring each other just around the next corner.

Everything smells vaguely of urine, vomit, alcohol and sewage, but the streets are impeccably clean and you are hard pressed to find a single homeless person begging for money. I find it rather ironic.

The city is very consistent. The buildings are all red, brown or beige brick. And if they aren't, they're made of stone. The sky scrapers mimic the look but have central air and are made of glass.

Times Square. It's everything I thought it would be. One of those places where you wouldn't mind going to once, but once there you immediately realize that you'd rather be someplace else.

Broadway. It's everything I thought it would be. If I lived in New York, every weekend would be live theater. I'm in love. I want more.

Best Japanese food I've ever had at Soba Nippon. Fucking kinako ice cream! I was dying from rememories of my youth. Fucking legit.

In New York, the Japanese population is so small that when someone calls someone else a Jap, they actually mean 'Jewish American Princess.' I guess that is indicative of the attitude towards the Japanese in general and sentiment in regards to Pearl Harbor happening "over there" as 9/11 happened "over there" to me. I suppose I should visit ground zero tomorrow to be able to connect and say that it happened "right here." We'll see where the F takes me.

In the Heights. It was more than I thought it would be. It is fucking fantastic. Possibly the best musical I have seen up until this point? That's a hard statement to make. I relate so well to it. Struggling Latina trying to make it at Stanford from growing up in the shadow of GWB. That is me, minus the Latina part. The militancy of Sonny speaks to my inner militant Black Panther. My parents are the Rosarios, struggling to push me out from where they found themselves stuck. Abuela Claudia is my precollege education, passing too soon, but leaving an indelible mark on my future, and offering a second chance at a dream. Benny is who I could have been if I had not the fortune of my primary school education which led to Lowell which led to Berkeley. I think it very appropriate that we have our names in common, and that I will not allow anyone to ever call me Benny. I saw a new side of New York that I hadn't seen in real life or previously on other stages. As we left the theater, New York was being blanketed lightly by rain, a symbolic washing away of my prior misunderstandings of The City, allowing for a new sun to rise. Where does the sun rise? In the east. I'm in a place now where I can see the world for what else it is and could be. I will be watching the sun rise tomorrow over the Atlantic Ocean. It will be the beginning of something new. New light from a different angle.

It was a great day. An awesome day. Many thanks to PB.