Moustaches

Seersucker dresses on the subway at 34th St., Herald Square. It's a scorcher in New York. Last night it poured, I think I mentioned that. Anyway, you'd think it'd be cooler, breezy even, at least less humid. No such luck. Pavement, man. That's what makes is so hot. The heat off the pavement. A kid on the street asked me yesterday, "Hey, ma'am. hey ma'am! Where'd you get that tan?" I didn't realize he was talking to me, til he mentioned the tan. My skin is caramel. It's no joke. I responded, "South America." Boca, maybe. Caribbean, sure. But South America? Probably not the most common answer.

The reason I love this city is because there's everything and eveyone. Two Indian dudes in pressed, button-up shirts, laughing, just passed me. Both had moustaches. The dude helping me with notebooks in the Apple store is from New York, but his family Hong Kong. He can do the splits and touch his toes. Airborne. Must be a dancer. He has a slight mohawk. Languages are so varied here, too. Eastern Europeans, Argentines, Moroccans. The world can live in New York in relative harmony. Aside from some occasional issues, it's pretty safe. The Brasilian waiting for the bus the other day offered that the tragedy of 9/11 brought those who survived it closer. I think it's because there are a lot more angels watching over the city now. I love New York. The pace, the people, the light. And I love it when the train pulls into the station right as you hit the platform. Nothing beter. Speaking of language, I just spoke Spanish with Danny, the Apple guy. He said I sound Colombian. Makes me giggle. In Buenos Aires, I sounded Chilean. In Chile, I sounded Chilean. In Colombia, I sounded Mexican or Ecuadorian. Guess Chileans thought I fit most. They claimed me. So neither Apple store has the computer I want. What is that about?!? They sell ideas. There's always demand. But where's the supply? Smart.

Bar Veloce. I'm having Lambrusco. Probably the most refreshing glass of wine that exists, it's a sparking Italian red. Not like the janky red wine spritzers I've been known to make with bad red wine and 7Up or Ginger Ale, Lambrusco is the real deal. It's robust, an eggplant opaqueness, with bubbles. Lovely. And Thomas, the barman, wears a suit to work every day. Today his shirt is striped yellow, pink, blue with a slate and dark blue diagonal tie. The suit is very fine black and brown stripes. His moustache curls up at the end. He's bald but the moustache is red. An elegant man. He knows my friend Tony. And remembers me. Cool. Sometimes keeping in touch with the world is easier than keeping in touch in the same city. I'm headed out to Long Island tonight. My accent has reverted back to my natural southern city girl accent, so I'm out to entrench myself in mutants. It's only a joke, people, but I've called Long Islanders mutants for a couple of years. That's what happens when you live downstream from a city like New York. It's gotta be something in the water. All kidding aside, I love it out there. Guess I also have mutant blood. So Penn Station is packed. The seats are all filled on a four-seater section of the car. Hopefully, they'll hop off sooner than me. And everyone's so business. Suits, khakis, a model here and there. The man across from me has to go to mosque tonight. Thursday night, let's meet for drinks, but first...mosque. Not sure I ever heard that one in South America.