In the end, it seems clear I overstayed my welcome in New York; the city itself was sending me signs that it was time to go (I found the one Starbucks in Manhattan without wi-fi), and coming home tonight, Boston welcomed me like a long lost relative, as I shared those friendly WASP-y grimaces people make when stuck on a bus after a long day of travel. New Yorkers do not make these faces. They're really too busy, and frankly, do I even know you, goes the logic... or something like that.
Like RedStar and her thoughts about returning to New Orleans, I have this life that's between worlds. In fact, I tend to think of myself as part of The Travel Class - they may not be a recognized demographic (although I think some advertisers account for them), yet, but they will be. They... We... are the people who are most at home in the land of airports where time exists in absolutes - the minutes to your flight, the hours in your layover. It's never quite morning, never really night, and commerce rules.
When I was in London a few years ago, I attended a small Dia de los Muertos party given by my host - an expat American I had met in New York, living in London with his Filipino (as I recall) boyfriend. We were joined by a Spaniard who had lived in London for several years, a German who traveled a lot for work, and a Frenchman, I think. And we talked about, oh European things, and travel and it was all very chic in this house where my host rented the basement apartment (but we used the living room of his landlord, who had everything done very tastefully in chic minimal modernism). I especially liked the Spaniard, as he reminded me of my friend Enrique, only his broken English was British, as opposed to Enrique's American; and I think of how I would like to compare notes with Enrique on Volver, because he hung out with the Alamdovar set (it's not all it sounds - I lived in Baltimore. I met John Waters. Everyone did. Best not to overplay these things.)
I realized that we all (even Enrique, really) talked like people who'd seen more than a few airport lounges, talked casually of jetting here and there (they were richer, really, than I, but only so much), and were in many ways all rather rootless, drawn to the energy of the urban life, but really any urban life, and indeed mostly by the idea that urban life was at its best when experienced in more than one place.
In the end, I think we know our real homes when we are in them - it's a feeling, a sense of belonging. I could say it was just serendipity that bought me to the apartment I had in New York - someone else found it and rented it (there, I said it in print); but when I got there the first day to move in, I knew I was home. Likewise, in my 4 room flat in what RedStar calls The Mansion (it's a South End row house with a lot of rooms), I know where I am. It is familiar, it is comfortable, it is mine. I am happiest when I have the ability to roam (and indeed my favorite work experiences have been the ones involving frequent travel), but roaming includes the ability to return to home base. Here I am. And here I shall stay. For a while.
Hear hear to roaming! You are spot on, my friend.
And you live in a mansion. Who wouldn't want to come home to that!
Posted by: leigh | November 30, 2006 at 12:30 AM
The one thing I always notice about Boston is that those who have roots here always come back. We travel, we live elsewhere for a while, but Boston remains a home base that we always return to for the long haul.
Maybe it's a black hole.
Kidding. I love this city and I wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world. Welcome home!
Posted by: Kate | November 30, 2006 at 09:28 AM
Enrique!
Posted by: chrystal | November 30, 2006 at 10:01 AM
Puh-lease. First of all, you can't keep changing your mind about where this home of yours is-if you do then how was the place you left enough of emotional meaning to be called home? second if you leave NY you can visit but you can not be a New Yorker those of us who truly are do not leave-so choose wisely.
Posted by: Jennifer | December 01, 2006 at 09:24 PM
As I said, I haven't completely made up my mind on this topic; I would love to say it's as simple as "Oh, New York, of course" but the fact is I like my life here in Boston and I like the calmness and the way things are set up, and seeing Manhattan now is a mixed bag of good things (convenience, energy) and bad(too much stress, too much hassle, and sometimes just too much). As I said, I knew my Manhattan apartment was home when I saw it, and I know this house is home now that I'm in it; when it's not, I think I will know that too, but that is not now, and not likely to change anytime soon.
Of all my friends - especially my New York friends, no one is more admamant than you, Jennifer (and I wouldn't expect any less of you), but Kate has the lure of a life based in Boston dead to rights: you leave, travel elsewhere and come back. What I didn't get into this post as I had originally conceived it is that I think Logan may be one of the best airports for its city - it is still minimal frills and focused, in its Puritan, work-ethic way on the essentials - you will be leaving, there's a chair, and there's the door. As opposed to those mall airports in sunbelt cities out in layover country (while I love DFW and ATL as airports, I would never live in either place; but I love flying through them). Boston isn't for layovers - you come, or you go. And if you go, you may well come back. And in its cold, New English way, Boston will welcome you back with shrug and a half smile.
Wherever I was, wherever I ultimately will be, I will always be a traveler, a searcher, someone who roams. That's just who I am, and I rather like it that way.
Posted by: weboy | December 01, 2006 at 11:50 PM