The years in school and traveling were framed by visiting my brother in Manhattan; some say the greatest city in the world, certainly the tallest. The grid like streets and neighborhoods offer a tantalizing array of tastes, sounds, smells – wherever you walk, every path is worth exploring and the street corners are home to artists and musicians from all over the world. Ramesh would work long hours but we would go out at night to restaurants like Hangawi, Al Bustan, Gobo, Angelica’s Kitchen and the small sandwich shops and delis that make New York so famous. We could shop at fashionable stores like Prada and Guci. Sometimes we would hangout with his friends or girlfriend, which was always a late night experience. During the day I would visit museums such as the Guggenheim or the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Most of these photos were taken from the Metropolitan Museum of Art (The Met).

You can live your whole life in this walking city but still not have cracked the surface of all that there is to offer. I was really glad to meet Linghua, a friend I met in Palenque Chiapas. She works as an interpreter for the UN and we enjoyed a quiet lunch at a Japanese restaurant

When I arrived at the apartment the first night nobody was home. Shortly after, Lisa arrived and we discussed her trip to Kilimanjaro, the Peace Corps and her plans to move to Dubai. Lisa, Ramesh and I dined at a Mexican Restaurant. There was no vegetarian item on the menu but the waiter brought something from off the menu. 

The next day I visited the Met. The cavernous floors and endless rooms occupied my time for many hours. I really liked the exhibits from Egypt and the American modern art galleries.

As usual, I fixed up Ramesh’s electronic equipment.

Then Raju and Lakshmi arrived from LA. Having them eat at Angelica’s Kitchen was probably an eyeopener for them.

Ramesh and I went out a couple of times to Alphabet City. There were bars that had their own sort of cultural scene with Middle Eastern, Irish and Latin mixes.

We attended the funeral of Ramesh’s gym trainer, Tyler, who had died in a car crash. The funeral was in Pennsylvania and was at a highly evangelical church in a small town. It was somewhat interesting to see the service full of singing and emotion rounded out by a strong call to join the church and be saved.

We had an odd dinner at the local Pizza Hut wearing our formal wear and then headed back to Manhattan.

One of the purposes of visiting my brother was to borrow some his winter and formal clothes to take with me to Romania. He showed me his wardrobe and I could basically pick out whatever I wanted.

On the last day I wanted to visit Ramesh’s office and have lunch with him at Al Bustan. Unfortunately, a series of ridiculous events made me miss my flight back home.

I didn’t have enough cash to pay for the taxi all the way to Blackstone, Ramesh's office. So the driver dropped me off at Grand Central Station. Then Ramesh and I rendezvoused at Al Bustan, where we had yet another amazing meal of Middle Eastern appetizers and food. I forgot my identification, so the plan of visiting Blackstone was scrapped.

Ramesh swiped his subway card for me to enter the station and catch the subway back home. On the subway I stayed for one stop too long and ended up all the way in Brooklyn. I exited the subway station to gather my whereabouts and when I found out I couldn’t call a taxi to go home, I realized that I would have to go back on the subway. I had no money to buy a subway ticket. I called Ramesh and he told me to ask someone to swipe their subway pass for me.

So there I was dressed in slacks, a sport coat and a pair of Prada shoes standing in the Brooklyn Subway Station asking random people if they could give me a free subway pass. No one agreed. Either they did not understand what I wanted or they made up some excuse. Over the course of 45 minutes, I asked about half a dozen people or more, mustering up the courage to ask well healed gentlemen and old ladies.

There was no chance I was going to catch my flight, so I had to call Jet Blue to reschedule the departure. With no credit card, identification or wallet, they couldn’t make the change when I called them.

Finally, I asked the man behind the ticket booth to allow me to pass into the station. At first he refused. I asked him again a half hour later and then he told me that he would let me through if I asked the policeman. The policeman let me swipe his card through. He asked me whether I had filed a report, thinking perhaps that someone had stolen my wallet. I arrived at the apartment with enough time to reschedule my flight for the next morning. I stayed that night in Manhattan and Ramesh and I ate instant noodles and watched television.
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