The race begins

Manhattan from West New York

Robert Kaplan has spoken often on the importance of writing down one’s first impressions when travelling to a new destination. After pulling an all-nighter out of Quebec and getting yanked off the bus at US customs (seems my passport raised some flags, particularly my Islamic Republic of Iran visa) I arrived at the Port Authority in Manhattan at 6AM this morning, I boarded another bus out to New Jersey to hook up with Curzon. There was this group of Jamaicans sitting behind me jabbering away in their funny accent, when one gets a call on her cellphone. She picks up and speaks in perfectly clear media English, offers a few short sentences of advice, hangs up and returns to the musical lilt of Caribbean conversation with her friend. Curzon picked me up and we went for breakfast in a diner, which there are a lot of here in Jersey. The rest of the day was spent “sightseeing” in and around Newark. Indulge me as I enumerate a few of my first impressions:

• Newark is a city of contrasts where you will have new pre-fabbed homes on one side of the street, and civil war on the other
• shirts are optional
• New Jersey consists of three different landscapes: rolling hills of the countryside, grimy run-down urbanscape, and apocalyptic post-nuclear industrial wasteland
• Newark must be at the center of a fried chicken empire
• when walking down main street Newark, it is easy to imagine what Conakry or Abidjan may look like with pavement
• I have seen enough sports jerseys to last me a lifetime
• service industry: black fried chicken joints are served by Indians and Arabs, white diners by hispanics, and asian supermarkets by whites

I am tired now… Tomorrow is New York!