It seems the appeal of New York was wearing thin for me. The dirty streets, the rude people, the pollution, the homeless, the horrible job market, and the prices oh the prices were all getting to me. Still I held onto that idea that I was supposed to make it big in this beehive of steel and concrete.
I attended two free workshops for people like me: recently laid off tech workers. The company was called Manchester and was located close to Midtown near the Grand Central Station. At the conclusion of the workshop, we were allocated six sessions with a counselor to help us through the rest of the job search process. I was assigned to Liz, a petite, very thin, elegant, well-dressed lady who seemed to have the savviness of a matreD and the kindness of a librarian. She was different; she did not seem to be your typical New Yorker. Liz listened and I could tell she paid attention. It felt like I was seeing a shrink, not a career counselor.
During the weeks following, meeting Liz was the highlight of my week. She and I usually talked at least for an hour and a half each time about my progress, about politics, about New York life. In return for listening to my endless banter about how hard it is to live in New York, I offered her a chance to get to know a little more about Turkey and Turkish people. So in a way, I was like foreign travel without the airfare -- a chance to escape Manhattan. In fact, she suggested that we keep meeting after the six complimentary sessions were all done. And that we did, we met weekly for the rest of the summer.
I would walk out of her office and head to the Grand Central Station, freshly pumped from all the good-feeling talk we had upstairs in her office. I would almost smirk at all the people looking so worn out as I stepped into Banana Republic at Grand Central. I still had my money, my high hopes, and I had the rest of the day free. So looking back, yes, I did have it better than most of those people at that point in time.
After browsing around in Banana Republic, I would get something to eat at an Au Bon Pain or sometimes take the subway back to East Village first and eat at home instead while I filled out job applications.
Oyster Bar at Grand Central is an experience every seafood-loving person cannot afford to miss. I recommend you go there during lunchtime, preferably on a weekday. I can see you saying: "why pick such a busy time to go get your oyster fix? Because, experiencing the crowd, and the madness it brings is a major part of the experience.
The Oyster bar is this huge high ceiling room with several sections. You enter the restaurant by descending down a flight of stairs. To your left is the first dining room with tables for small and large groups. If you are by yourself, you will be taken to your right to the section with the bar tables, The bar tables are U shaped tables that can seat 10-15 at a time while the employees serve food from within the U shape.
When you go somewhere public by yourself, you should always have your protection handy. I am not talking about mace, guns, sharp objects, not even contraceptives; I am talking about taking your notebook and pen or perhaps one of the books you're working through these days. Even if you're going people watching you have to have something to hide your face into. I had my notepad with me. I made a couple of notes, and then did a sketch.
Sitting at the table was a strange experience. I caught the old man across the table glaring at me several times while I ordered. Perhaps he was trying to figure out why I had the funny accent; maybe he just hated foreigners. The model was looking away from her boyfriend, and hiding her face in her long hair that draped down on both sides like black velvet curtains. I recognized this posture, my ex-girlfriend in Turkey spent many beautiful summer days in the exact same posture –-crying mostly because I had said or done something wrong again.
The soup soon arrived and I put my notepad aside. The soup was piping hot but absolutely delicious. Around this time the crowd slowly started to pair down. It was almost 1 pm when my oysters Rockefeller arrived. Because I am not a huge fan of oysters in general, I could not dare to get raw oysters. I feared that getting them raw might have pushed my taste buds over the edge. The oysters were great but for some reason they made me crave dessert.
I decided to give their key lime pie a try. This whole time, the waitress was silently watching me wolf down everything she brought with some sort of amusement. Most people that go to the Oyster Bar eat one or two servings and they're out of there. No one goes through a full three-course meal at lunch unless they have a nap appointment lined up in the afternoon. Well, it so happened that I had one scheduled for that afternoon.
By the time I paid the check and left, the place was almost empty. Grand Central was still buzzing with the activity of a thousand commuters. As thousands crawled within, the steel and marble structure remained calm, shiny with lights from the windows and chandeliers bouncing off of the marble walls.
I was by myself in the middle of hundreds of people with no one to talk to at that moment. Instead of what I would expect, I felt at ease, I was happy. I was really happy,
