Wednesday was walking through Williamsburg where everyone was a hipster and no one was old or a child. Kind of creepy, really. Jane and I watched 24 Hour Party People in a concrete park, and I mostly people watched and looked at the Manhattan skyline. I'm here, wtf?!
The next morning, I headed off dutifully to meet my broker on Madison street where I learned a lot of the different neighborhoods and price ranges for apartments in NY. I figured as much. Craigslist doesn't tell you everything.
At first, I was really intimidated by my broker, Bob, because as soon as we shook hands his booming voice and brusque New York mannerisms immediately bombarded with me with all these financial questions, hastily rendering most of my hopes irrelevant. Then he starting talking about how we'd have to have a guarantor since we're students and no renter will accept non-guarantor students and how the guarantors have to make 80 times the monthly rent (wtf!) and all these other crazy NY rent policies. I try to appear calm, but inside, I wanted to run away.
I'm glad I persevered because his intern, Jesse (who's about my age), made me feel comfortable and eased my tension. He took me to about ten apartments, and after seeing so many ugly mediocre or tiny ones, I knew the one I wanted.
We raced back in the rain to start the application process, but as soon as we got into the office, Bob was, "Oh, this is bad news." Someone had just applied/rented that unit. Unit 2C at 53rd St and 9th Ave. This is crazy, since it was just released/posted at 9 am that day. We saw it at 12:34 PM.
Fortunately, unit 4C, which was still occupied, would be available August 1st. Then began the hellish nightmare of applying for that apartment. Mostly, it was difficult since I had to figure out the financial/guarantor situation with my parents via the phone, and my parents are very very private people who are suspicious especially concerning anything that involves sharing their personal information and accounts, etc. It was like pulling teeth.
Also, mad faxing and communication with Mindy.
I'm mildly summarizing, but it was an extremely stressful and nerve-wracking day. By the end of the day, I felt defeated, that the apartment would be lost, and then the downpour of rain came. I was umbrella-less.
Jane saved me. She took me out for fried chicken and I felt normal again. I think the day was terrible also because I hadn't eaten anything all day since I was running all over Manhattan looking at apartments, then was stressed with getting all the forms properly filled out. I hate looking for an apartment.
But we got it. By Friday, 4 PM, I got confirmation that the wonderful cherry wood floor 2-bedroom apartment in Midtown West (aka Hell's Kitchen) was ours. THANK GOD.
I love it for the following reasons:
- Large bedrooms (which is kind of amazing for NY.)
- Beautiful wood floors, even more beautiful tiling on the kitchen and bathroom floors
- Exposed brick
- French doors in the bedroom
- Dishwasher!
- Granite counter-tops in the bathroom!
- Large kitchen (for NY!)
- Beautiful building, not a high-rise.
I dislike the following:
- It is railroad style, so we'll need to make curtains for the doorways to that one bedroom
- Small living room (the price you pay for large bedrooms)
Here are some pictures, and a janky video:
Because of my busy-body nature, I've already arranged to acquire a lot of furniture. Mostly, I've been trolling around Craigslist and emailing like mad. Arborio, my iPhone (get it? Since it's white!), had been indispensible throughout this whole ordeal.
Oh yea! I was super stressed during the application process while at the broker's office, and for some reason, my broker and I started talking about Greece, and his entire demeanor totally changed: he softened, and seemed much more relaxed and his whole face lit up. He talked about how he spend 6 weeks there in March, met his online backgammon (female) friend, and they traveled, presumably fell in love, entered an international backgammon tournament in Northern Greece (he won first, she won 10th out of thousands). He kept going on and on about his trip. The man was clearly in love.
It was mostly just interesting and startling to see such different sides of a person. He's a total softie, it turns out. Oh, New Yorkers.
Aside from securing my apartment, securing furniture, I've eaten out at amazing restaurants, seen lots of Manhattan, and attended a pretend wedding at a chapel-like place in the LES.
This city is so huge and wonderful and over-stimulating. It's mindblowing. I still cannot really believe that I am here. I live here. I think I'll never get over that.
I keep thinking about how I'll ride my bike the 50 odd blocks up to Columbia on days of good weather (not a long ride), and how I'm so close to everything: 7 blocks from Central Park; I'm right by Columbus Circle.
Now I just need a job, and to move in. It'd be funny if I tried to work at Gordon Ramsay's restaurant . . .
I miss home, but there is no real going back once I've started on my NY momentum. I'm a machine, JJC and Jane keep saying. It's true. I don't know how to do nothing. I've got all week to try.
I feel free. It's like Greece, but this time, I'm rooted. I hope this is what _____ is.
I thought I would be miserable, or melancholic. I'm not. Of course I miss. Of course I love. But I feel like I'm arrived in my own self, where all of myself is in the same place, and it's that right place and time feeling. Pieces fitting, even though I can't see how they fit, or what shape it is they take.
The form is there, bigger than me, and I don't care to know what it looks like. All that is important, is the tremendous feeling of me, and here.
