The Smells That Filled the Air

New Yorkers. Various surveys and general conceptions about these people is that they're super rude. And, well, they aren't. But I will say that there's a lack of warmth. Everything is to-the-point, boiled down. The absolute bare necessity of what's required for any given transaction. I've run into this several times over the last week as I try to sort out various school things, from everything regarding paperwork to asking for advice. It shocked me at first, but I'm slowly adapting to how there isn't a smile or hint of sympathy or desire to make make small talk. Being a mega introvert, I'm not a big fan of the small talks either, but I guess growing up where I did I came to expect it as a part of everyday life. Just trying to make a little joke here, or ask someone how they're doing, or trying to make any kind of human connection to make the interaction seem more than input/output between to fleshy robots.

So when I went to an academic adviser, stating my plea of being new at the school and jumping right into senior-level classes and not sure what to expect, I was greeted with... A series of rapid-fire questions aimed to quickly ascertain what I was doing in that office. Did I get the course recommendations from the department head? Yes. Did I have them processed, so I'm registered for class? Yes. Did you have an issue with registration, you ARE in the right classes, right? Yes. I proceeded to ask a few questions about how classes are usually run, what I can expect, etc. I was coldly informed to ask my professors or fellow students.

It was kind of tough - on a most basic level, all I was looking for was some sort of assurance or comfort. Maybe even *gasp* some sympathy for my position. But instead I got none of that. Query in, answer out. Not a smile or personal connection to be had anywhere inbetween.

Not rude. Just... Cold. I don't think it's strictly a Canadian thing, either, because that couple of other locations in the western United States that I've visited seemed a bit more friendly. It's just... Different, is all. It's just that this city has a different pulse than what I'm used to. But quite frankly, I kinda hope that I don't adapt. I like it when people try to create some kind of connection, no matter how small, to those they interact with. It makes the world seem like a slightly more welcoming place, as if we're all on the same side.

It shows on the street, too. People are a lot more likely to bump into eachother, ignoring "personal space". Mind you, this is pretty understandable in a city that's so crammed full of people that mostly shove themselves onto subway cars at the same time each day to make it to or from work. It's cozy, people.

And then there's the opposite end of things. When I was staying up in Harlem, I was really blown away by the social culture there. People, everyone, just hanging out in the streets. Talking, arguing, discussing as if there wasn't anyone else around. Seemed like the average volume of human interaction was twice as loud as what I'm used to. I was really blown away by the people having really heated fights in the middle of a crosswalk, talking smack to eachother. There's such a thing as "airing your dirty laundry", and then there's "a live broadcast of your dirty laundry on national television". It's pretty mind-boggling.

Ok, let's hold up for a second here. Noticed how I was oh-so-subtly talking about the "people of Harlem"? I'm talking about the black community of Harlem. There's a saying I heard recently that went "If you have to say "I'm not trying to be racisct", that means you're being racist." I'm not going to put in some sort of disclaimer, this are just my observations. The black population of Harlem were very different from the other cultures I've seen in areas of Manhatten and Brooklyn. Not better, or worse. I'd like to think that I'd treat them all the same regardless. But make no mistake, I'm talking about black people. As a Caucasian, am I allowed to do that? Or should I sheepishly skirt around mentioning specific skin tones in relation to the cultural differences I happen to witness? I mean, it's not like I'm even saying ALL BLACK PEOPLE ARE LIKE THIS, WITH NO EXCEPTIONS! I'm talking about an overall impression that I got from seeing the people in a particular neighbourhood. Hopefully this doesn't make me too terrible of a person. Anyways, where was I?

There are the accents, the grammar, the euphemisms that are associated with urban black culture. Back home if you were to start talking in this rapper-esque-slang, people would roll their eyes and maybe even chuckle. And I mean, yeah, of course, you know that people actually behave this way. The same as how a Frenchmen speaking English will sound, or how people from the deep south might call you "honey" or "darlin'". Of course it's an actual behaviour, where else where we would we get those stereotypical tendencies that we parody?

Yet seeing it in person... Made me realize how utterly sheltered I was in a way. To witness those actions not as an attempt at cliche humour but as an authentic, sincere means of communication was a bit of a wake-up call. "I know people actually did this, but... People actually do this!" It was a weird realization to have, to see something like that removed from the context of parody. Makes me realize how removed we can be from reality, and how, like it or not, your every day life is likely a parody to someone else. How the way you talk and walk and act can be turned into a lame joke for someone else's amusement, regardless of your own intent. It's pretty wild.

Seeing the way the black population of Harlem acted was really a serendipitous lens for me to peer through to see my own native culture. I realized how private and quiet me and my fellow Canadians are. How... kinda bland and passionless we are in everyday life. We're a nation of borderline prudes, hiding away in our picturesque houses with lawns and driveways that are all elements of personal boundary to space ourselves from our neighbours.

"Neighbours"? After living here for two weeks, it kind of makes me realize how little of that word we really comprehend. Back home, it's like we all live our lives so that we can box it up and tuck it away, so that it doesn't make a mess and spill over into anyone else's box. And here, people live shoulder-to-shoulder and aren't concerned with keeping their life neat and tidy and out of view. They're concerned with their lives, and living it without the boundaries that come along with being constantly surrounded by other people.

It's kind of a beautiful thing to see. Loud to hear, but beautiful to see. I'm not sure if I want to live in a place of such volume for the rest of my days, but I can't deny the heart-on-sleeve passion that that way of living is done with.

Look at me. Formally analyzing and privately writing about other cultures as if I'm trying to make sense of it. I'm such a polite little Canadian.
-Cril

We fell asleep and began to dream
When something broke the night
Memories stirred inside of us
The struggle and the fight
And we could feel the heat of a thousand voices
Telling us which way to go
And we cried out is there no escape
From the words that plague us so

And we were drawn to the rhythm
Drawn to the rhythm of the sea
And we were drawn to the rhythm
Drawn to the rhythm of the sea

Sarah McLachlan - Drawn to the Rhythm