Too New York

Back in the heart of the matter- New York. Shouts to my Brooklyn and Queens folk.

I love this city. I thought that going to Amherst made me more of a NYC snob, but being in London made me love this place more than ever. Yes, I'm having an amazing (read expensive) experience in Europe, NYC is my home and my heart. From the Mister Softee ice cream trucks, the hot dog vendors (take note London, nasty street hot dogs are to cost a dollar, $1.50 tops. Not no damn 2.50 pounds), and the bootleg bag sellers; NYC is the place. But why oh why out of a city of 8 million, do I ALWAYS seem to run into somebody from a former life; e.g. high school, middle school, summer camps, etc.. It's not that I like cutting all ties with people, its just that I hate awkward encounters. I don't necessarily want to run into an old high school crush (like I did today) as I smash 25 cent ice cream sandwich from the bodega. Yet, it inevitably happens. Thankfully my hair is crispy fresh off a new perm- gracias Rosalina. Another New York institution, the Dominican hairdresser. Where would I be without a $12 wash and set?

But I have had reverse culture shock - figuring out which way to cross the road after spending 3 months trying to get accustomed the other side of the road driving in London, hearing American accents everywhere, slices of pizza not costing a months salary. And getting an actual slice of pizza and not that a personal pan pizza. Yes, Britain thats right, Pizza is to come by the slice.

Yes I love the City, but if I get cajoled into another train conversation with a scary Puerto Rican, I'm liable to run to JFK and hop on the next plane to London.

Pink Slips

I've never in my life (or ever will be again probably) been more excited to receive little pink slips. At SOAS part of their weird system of turning in assignments- not directly to the professor or the tutor, but to faculty offices of the departments. After the student hands in 2 copies of their paper, the secretary, scribbles that you've in fact handed in the paper and hands you- the triumphant student a little pink slip. It's a receipt, a physical confirmation, that yes, I did do all that work. I did write more in a week than I ever have (well since finals at Amherst, lets be real). I did become a junior share holder of Starbucks after all the coffees I've bought from their stores. The folks at my local branch, just hand me the grande latte now. No questions asked.

Now with the monkey of midterms off my back I get to embark on my spring break. And these Europeans surely do know how to relax. None of that weeklong foolishness that pushes kids to the MTV locales at Cancun, Panama Beach and Montego Bay to get wasted on camera. Or to Spring Bling for all my BET folk out there. We get a month long break here: enough time for me to come through to NYC on my generous momma's dime, and then come back to the UK to prep for my tour of Italy, then Spain (thanks AH!), France, then Belguim. I'm counting down the days till I'll be doing cheesy poses in front of important landmarks.

But now I'm looking forward to eating some real food and not hooking up some ramen.

It's not Starbucks its Weedbucks

This post isn't about Amsterdam or a new addiction to weed =)
I love coffee. Not in the addictive "Gilmore Girls"-esque way, that if I don't drink some I'll die. I can drink a cup then curl back up into bed. Its part of my morning routine: wake up early enough to make a cup but still manage to be running late to class. womp
Since London is really expensive I decided that instead of wasting my hard won dough on a cup from Starbucks I would make instant coffee, drink tea or buy from random corner cafes. And it worked for a while. I can hook up some Nestcafe, a little bit of nutmeg and cinnamon, and I got myself a bootleg latte creation. And the only thing I learned from my terrible homestay weekend was how to brew tea, so that I actually want to drink it and not just to settle my stomach. That weekend I also learned that people don't need permission to touch a black girl's hair. But then my birthday rolled around and my mother sent me the Starbucks card that I asked for. And its been downhill since...

I wish they would tell me why that stuff is so addictive? Is it the organic milk or are the baristas low level drug slingers? I've felt a special affinity for Starbucks for a while. There was one close to my high school next to 137th Street/City College train stop on the 1 line, its now closed. But back in its day it had a picture of Magic Johnson posing happily with a cup in his hand. Later that year the Magic Johnson Foundation gave me a college scholarship. Last year the Foundation sent me and other kids from the program to Brazil, sponsored by Starbucks and an organization called Earthwatch. They even gave us a Starbucks card, and instructions on coffee tasting (not as fun as wine tasting). See its all full circle.

And while the London Starbucks aren't like the ones at home, where Daddy Earv (hey Annie had her Daddy Warbucks) is smiling at me, encouraging me to get a molasses cookie with my latte, they put me ease.And yes, they do say take away instead of take out and the silly sizes - tall, grande, venti are the regular small, medium and large here. But I have learned that globalization,done right can be a wonderful thing.

you betta work

It takes weeks and weeks for magazines to be sent over from the States to the UK. And when I say weeks I mean weeks. I actually saw old American Vogues up in the newstands (like the lovely one above featuring Beverly Johnson) next to other magazines with coked out Kate Moss on the cover. But then the newish Vogue finally got here, and I shelled out 4.50 pounds to see not so great pictures of JHud (Black) America's new sweetheart. Although I love Andre Leon Talley, he should've hired RuPaul to show old girl how to work it for the camera. No body did it better than Ru, before or since. I'll tell you this Ru wouldn't have had Jenny at the Oscars looking like a bullfighter.

Yet American Vogue is waayyy better than its British cousin. Rampant typos and corny articles. They probably purposely slow down the import of American Vogue because they know that no one would even subscribe to the British edition if they could more readily get their fashionista hands on the US edition.

Now the search begins for the March Essence, also featuring Jennifer Hudson as covergirl. She's getting almost as much coverage as the 2008 Presidential candidates. Is she going to be Obama's running mate? They're both from Chicago...

the diverCity

Someone in London tried to tell me that this is the most diverse city in the world. As Hova has told us "we don't believe you, you need more people." This place has about 3 Latinos, and they are mostly from Brazil (plans still pending to go to a Brazilian restaurant, pretending to be a Brasilera and get a free meal). New York has the distinction of most diverse city in the world. Although both cities boast about the diversity of their populations, things get contentious when higher education is brought into the mix.

At SOAS I've noticed that there are not a lot of black Caribbean students in my classes. Most of the black kids are African- either first generation British or they've come specifically to go to university. And Somalis are repping hard at SOAS. Although I'm as American as a wings and a biscuit from Kennedy Fried, I'm used to having tons of Caribbeans around me. And by tons, I mean people like me, with West Indian parents but aren't really on that Mighty Sparrow tip. Although I'm aching for some stew chicken, rice and peas and plantains. The university system is very different here; many back British kids of Caribbean descent don't have access to the type of education that would help them get into university. Yet this doesn't seem to get as much media attention as debates over affirmative action, diversity and socio-economic make-up of colleges get at home.

The Washington Post, wrote an article on how top American universities enroll higher numbers of black immigrant students from Africa, the Caribbean and Latin America than native born blacks. Perhaps because my own experience has been different, and because as a Brooklynite and Queens resident I know many working class black immigrant families who hardly came from well heeled backgrounds, I disagreed with some of the people interviewed for the article. Yes in the Caribbean and in Africa we are talking about populations of black majorities without the history of American-type racism. However, in these countries, there were imperial interests that kept the majority black people from attaining a good education and good job prospects. As the daughter of black Caribbean immigrants, most of my ancestors were not American slaves (although my momma's daddy was Southern, so if reparations ever come I'll holla at that check). However, I personally have never received better treatment because of the nationality of my parents. Did affirmative action help me to gain my slot at Amherst- most likely. Do I feel that I was a proper beneficiary of this measure- yes. Affirmative action is supposed to help ensure that today in the ivory towers of higher education that their is a diversity racial, ethnic and socio-economic background, not simply to correct past wrongs. Yet, this does not mean that colleges in the US shouldn't do a better job of bringing in African American kids.

Lets just remember that black immigrants (and dey kids) have contributed much to black American culture and life- Harry Belafonte, Marcus Garvey, Stokely Carmichael and Shirley Chisholm. Not to mention - Malcolm X's moms was West Indian as was W.E.B Du Bois' daddy. Du Bois' father was from Haiti, explaining the last name (I bowed my head in shame when some SOAS kids argued with me over the pronouciation of Du Bois, sorry ya'll its more of a Du Boyz than Du Bwah). And hopefully our next President will be repping the beauty of the black diaspora, Barack Obama - half Kenyan, and the beneficiary of the dream of the American civil rights movement.

I'm making plans to go to Brixton to find a patty shop...

almost 2 years later

Tonight at SOAS there was a showing of WHEN THE LEVEES BROKE: A REQUIEM IN FOUR ACTS by Spike Lee. Discussions about the US are so different from an international standpoint. After a young woman gave a talk on Hurricane Katrina, the floor was opened up to questions and comments. And although I get nervous speaking in public, was moved to touch on how race and class intersects in America. It was interesting to hear the thoughts and opinions of others, but some of Brits in the audience left a bitter taste in my mouth. The consensus seemed to be that this catastrophe is something that could only happen in America. I'm not so sure that the British government would handle a similar situation much better if it befell a group of mostly "undesirable citizens". But that could just be my American sensitivities percolating.

I remember being in New York on Sept. 11th 2001, and just knowing that things would never be the same. My life had changed when that beautiful, clear blue sky was pierced by clouds, dust and fires of the collapse of the World Trade Center. That occasion was beyond anything most of us could have ever imagined. And because it was so indiscriminate it brought the city together like nothing else before. It was a man made disaster. And in many ways Hurricane Katrina was too.
Our government on the city, state and federal level knew what a hurricane of that level would mean for the city of New Orleans. And yet, next to nothing was done, and the relief effort was a slapdash one at best. We all know the story; black, brown and overwhelmingly poor and venerable people suffering and dying. On 9/11 although I was scared and didn't know what to expect, at least I knew that on some level the government cared about the welfare of my city and by extension me as well. New Orleans and the Gulf Coast by and large has been forgotten. Left as a playground for wealthy contractors and other business interests to go in and remake the city.

During the documentary I kept on wondering how much more can black and poor people take? In the US blacks deal with so many issues it makes my head spin just thinking about them. Poor white folks are treated disdainfully as well; it's almost as if the voice of America is telling poor white people: "You shouldn't be poor, you're white. You must have messed up." Simply put, the government told our brothers and sisters that they are disposable.

I've been guilty of short term memory and of being overwhelmed by the scale of tragedy in the world and causes to be affiliated with. But the victims of this hurricane haven't had the luxury of simply moving on and changing the channel to a "Living Single" rerun. Not only am I going to remember people whose fate could have been my own as well, but I hope to be shown a way to be a small positive force.

it's a Groove Thang

itunes Essentials have saved my life. Being in London, I'm not able to listen to 98.7 kiss fm, Hot 97, or 107.5 WBLS. So in order to get my daily dose of 80s and 90s hip hop, dance and r&b music I've turned to the hilarious, yet helpful itunes Essential compilations. Although they have created mixes like- R&B wedding songs, Hip Hop work out, and Positive Rap they do have some good old songs I've almost forgotten about...
When I FINALLY found Sybil's "Don't Make me Over", I almost fell over. I've been looking for this one since 1988 (or since 2004). And Zhane, should've enjoyed a longer career. The have such a smooth sound. They should've been at Oprah's Legend's Ball instead of silly little Ashanti. And Heavy D will always be one of my favorite rappers- who would've thought such a big guy would be so agile?

Now a little disclaimer: Yeah I know that I talk (write) a lot about America in this here blog. Some of that is homesickness, but mostly, being abroad has allowed me to step back and observe the States from an almost outsider status. If I were at Amherst, I'm not sure I would be thinking about the 2nd Black Arts Movement of the late 80s-early 90s. Instead I'd be thinking about bus schedules to Target and office hours with a religion professor.

But onto London news.
The church that I go to with my friends Tinuke and Timnet is the most diverse place I've ever been. It's like the Rainbow Coalition up in there (minus messy Jesse). Congregants are black from Africa and the Diaspora, Asian from throughout the continent, white and everything in between. They say that the most segregated hour is the 11 am service. Well this service would make Strom Thurmond squirm. It gives me hope to see so many folks of different backgrounds singing and worshipping together. Now all I need to do is to get the church band to sing some "Stomp" and "Revolution" by Kirk Franklin.

A hungry man is an angry man

Me belly full, but me hungry. A hungry man is an angry man.
Bob Marley ain't never lied when he said that. Although I know that he was talking about social justice, that lyric is so fitting for my food situation in London. (I just heard Brother Bob spinning in his grave)

When I found out that I would be responsible for feeding myself during my semester in London I was shook. Although I'm no fan of Amherst cuisine, it is convenient and there have been many times when I've missed going to Val (the cafeteria), sitting down to some horrible mac and cheese with my friends. But on the bright side, I love grocery shopping. It combines two of my favorite things: food and shopping. And the fact that I live close to not 1 but 4 supermarkets makes my time here a little more worth while. Food shopping has opened my eyes to London society...

Tesco the grocery I frequent the most is like the supermarket version of Duane Reid. Pretty ubiquitous with reasonable prices. All members of London society shop there. Students, professionals, parents, kids, etc... If they don't have what you want you could always go to the Sainsbury. Sainsbury tends to be larger and has more of a selection, like Pathmark. (well not like the Pathmark at Restoration in Brooklyn). But the largest variety supermarket I've seen since being here is Marks and Spencer, which in truth is more of a Target. They have it all- clothes, housing goods, groceries and if they could incorporate a pet shop in there I know they would. Rounding out the list is Waitrose, which is like the higher end Manhattan grocers, Dean and Deluca, Citarella or Trader Joe's. Waitrose is a little pricer, but their store brands are quite cheap and good quality. And its the only place where I can find toaster waffles.

With all this grocery variety you would think that London would have their food game on lock. WRONG! The Brits don't seem to believe in apple sauce as anything but a side of their meat loaf. No graham crackers are found in the British isles, or Easy mac. While there are numerous instant noodles to choose from, I can't get my hands on cup noodles. But these folks sho nuf know how to hook up some jam. And the US needs to get our Fanta imported from the EU. Some kids come over hear to drink and get wasted, I came here to have a steady supply of Fanta.

Even eating out isn't too bad. Since the sun never set on the British Empire until about the mid-1960s, London is the second most diverse city in the world (the first being NYC! Shouts to Queens, the most diverse county in the world). This diversity equals a plethora of cheap eats, especially Indian, Chinese, Thai and Caribbean. And Kebab spots abound. Not like I'm a fan of kebab, but I do have a weakness for fresh fries. The Middle Eastern/Indian men who have a corner on the fried chicken spots make a mean order of chips. The one time I went to a chippie (a fish and chips place), the chips were a disappointment. Womp-womp. Never again will I eat native British food.

it's raining... babies ?

After hearing the good news that my sisters are pregnant, I imagined them leading the households of a sort of neo-Cosby show, our collective favorite sitcom (my friends still mock me for our Cosby pop quizzes, obvious jealousy over lacking encyclopedic knowledge of the show). There would be some structural differences; much of the action would take place in Queens in the 21st century for one. So while I'm excited about these new additions to the fam, the way I found out makes me at once grateful to email technology and vaguely sad that I wasn't at home to drink the champaign I imagined my parents popping when they heard the news.
Being so far from home means not being present for such momentous events like pregnancy announcements. My sisters told me via email. In between messages from my friends with funny youtube clips was the news that I was going to be an aunt once again, that my parents are going to be grandparents. Will my mother tell the kids to call her "Mother- the sequel", like Clair wanted to when Winnie and Nelson were born, or will she opt for something more traditional like Grandma, Grandmother or even Big Momma? We'll find out in a few months...

As winter winds down in London, I'm noticing more and more pregnant young women walking around looking like they have a soccer ball (or should I say football) under their dresses. I have to really fight back the impulse to try to knock out the ball, because its a baby, even if the moms to be look like a snake who just swallowed an egg.

Thankfully as I walk to and fro school or ride on the tube I don't have to hear the little bundles of joy being less than charming. All because of podcasts. Walking to SOAS I hear not beeping horns, or 90s pop blaring from cars, but rather episodes of the Tavis Smiley show. As the American accents from the public radio podcasts take me elsewhere - a transnational Anglo America, to a place where I can be present for announcements of pregnancy and go to school with citizens of the European Union.

Pass that Dutch

This past weekend I went to visit my friend Lenore from Amherst studying abroad in Amsterdam and although we didn't "pass that Dutch" like the Missy Elliot song, we still managed to have a great time. Amsterdam is a pretty city full of interesting surprises, like the fact that its 10% Black!
When I disembarked from my plane at Schipol Airport I saw Black folks blithely walking about jabbering along in Dutch. I wanted to ask them what they were doing there. But instead I decided to exercise some home training. I later found out that Black Amsterdammers are mainly from the Antilles, Surinam and a few East African nations. After meeting up with my friend and hopping on the train (which looked like they were straight out of NYC circa 1986), we arrived at Centraal Station and walked to her neighborhood Jordaan (the Dutch love a double A). Jordaan is like the SoHo/West Village of Amsterdam. I was practically faint from not eating since the morning we went to a pancake house. Waffles are to Belgium as pancakes are to Amsterdam. There are about 500,000 pancake spots in the city, but this place blew my mind, it was that good. So good that I brought some pancakes when I got back to London, unfortunately they don't even hold a candle to their Dutch counterparts.

We spent the weekend hitting up the cultural landmarks: Van Gogh Museum, Rijksmuseum (which is like their MET), the Anne Frank Huis and the Red Light District (which really has lingerie clad women standing in windows lit by red lights! Too much for my little Episcopalian heart). The Anne Frank Huis was very heart-wrenching, walking through the tiny annex she lived in with her family was surreal. In this most unromantic of places there was a couple making out in the section with pictures of concentration camp victims. Europeans never cease to surprise me...

But now I'm back to the grind in London, armed with pancakes, Dutch chocolate and instant coffee as I attempt to tackle my papers. It is study abroad after all.