Questo è stato

Per puro caso mi sono imbattuta in “Questo e’ stato” di Piera Sonnino. Una sera di ottobre uscendo da casa di amici a Tribeca avevo notato una pila di libri nuovi di zecca abbandonati all’ingresso del palazzo. Erano stati lasciati da qualche inquilino per chiunque di passaggio fosse interessato. Ne prendemmo due: un saggio sulla Russia «Qui sont les russes ?» e «Questo e’ stato» di Piera Sonnino di cui non avevo mai sentito parlare. La coincidenza volle che due settimane dopo Stefano incontrasse una sua amica italiana che vive a NY e che fa la traduttrice per una delle maggiori case editrici nordamericane. Gli raccontò di un libro bellissimo, poco conosciuto e da poco tradotto e pubblicato in America: "Questo e’ stato".

Il libro, breve, di agevole lettura e scritto magistralmente, e’ il racconto autobiografico di Piera, unica sopravvissuta alla Shoah di una famiglia di otto persone, ebrei di origine napoletana che vivevano a Genova. Il manoscritto, scritto nel 1960 come memoria personale e per i suoi figli, resta nel cassetto fino al 2002 quando, tre anni dopo la morte di Piera, il settimanale Diario invita i lettori ad inviare memorie della Shoah. Giunge in redazione una timida email: «Chiedo scusa, mi chiamo Maria Luisa Parodi. Sono figlia di Piera Sonnino, sopravvissuta alla Shoah e scomparsa tre anni fa. Mia madre ha scritto un diario. Per tanto tempo è stato custodito da me e mia sorella. Ora è tempo (e vi assicuro che il percorso personale per staccarlo da me è stato ed è doloroso), se lo riterrete opportuno, di renderlo visibile e condividerlo assieme».

Al di là degli orrori della persecuzione e dello sterminio, ciò che colpisce ed inquieta è lo stupore di una famiglia borghese che resta quasi abbagliata da eventi inimmaginabili, incapace di trasformarsi da un giorno all’altro in eroi che sappiano nascondersi, scappare, chiedere ed affidare la propria vita al buon cuore di persone disposte a rischiare la propria. Ciò che mi sono sempre chiesta pensando alla Shoah: come reagirei se un giorno ci invadessero i marziani? Come si passa da una comoda vita borghese alla lotta per la sopravvivenza quotidiana?

Manhattan jungle

Surviving the horrors of apartment hunting in NYC is like staying alive and mentally sane in post-war Baghdad. As our apartment-hunting is coming to an end, here is my jungle book of observations, anecdotes and lessons learned about the NYC rental market.

Building: what the building looks like, not the apartment itself, is what renters in NYC really care about. This is proved by the fact that the majority of rental ads give a full description of the building before disclosing any information about the flat. So one day a broker (who?) called me in response to an email (which one out of the 100 I sent?) I sent him the day before when I was searching through tons of web listings: “Hi, this is Robert. I’m calling you in response to your email. It’s about the apartment in the building with a pool”. Hmmm… Can I buy a vowel??

Listings: Although the transition from paper to reality leaves you with a maddeningly frustrating bunch of inaccurate information to stomach, I have to admit that property descriptions provided by brokers can be very creative, to use an euphemism. The best I saw was: “the apartment features XYZ… and a great foyer where you can greet your guests.” Of course everyone can see the immense added value of a “great foyer” and I had wild dreams about welcoming my guests: “hi, thanks for coming, please don’t walk straight into the living room, let’s have some fun in my great foyer first”.

Stingy landlords: in my opinion a stingy landlord is to be avoided like the bubonic plague. They can be found anywhere in the world, but here for the first time I heard a landlord asking -while we were negotiating the lease- if she and her husband could use the apartment for three weeks a year because they come from Colorado and hotel accommodation in Manhattan tend to be very expensive. Jaw dropping, restraining the urge to curse loudly, we diplomatically commented: “We have to admit that it is quite an unusual request, Madam” although my gut reaction was: “And would you like fries with that?”.

Guarantor: holding a diplomatic visa like we do only exacerbates the nightmare. Many landlords in NY do not accept diplomats. It’s not unusual to read in a listing “no dogs, no diplomats”, how flattering! Landlords that do accept diplomats sometimes ask for a guarantor, a person who is legally obligated to pay the rent in case the tenant is unable to. Whereas in Europe a guarantor can be anyone with a good credit history, in NY we ended up being asked for a guarantor who earns 87 times the monthly rent, adding up to the magic figure of half a million USD. When we made the calculation, my husband and I looked at each other in amazement: “Did you happen to hear from your buddy Bill Gates lately?” “Nope” “Any chance mayor Bloomberg would lend a helping hand?” “Not sure” “All right, NEXT!”

Brokers: this issue would deserve its own jungle book. The majority of brokers are not just better than used car salesmen. I won’t go into too much detail, hoping that my previous post gives a sense of the scale of the problem. However there are also nice and honest people. My favourite broker is L., originally from Puerto Rico, born in Queens and living in Long Island… I swear this man was meant to be a comedian instead! To end on a positive note, my best memories about my apartment hunting is driving around town with him mumbling his mantra “This city is shit, man! This city is filthy! With that money, you could rent a villa in Long Island and hire a full time chauffer to drive you to the city any f&#*ing time you want!”

And whoever thought apartment hunting was fun is in my humble opinion truly insane...

A flawless concert and a dysfunctional wedding

We saw Dave Brubeck in concert at the Blue Note tonight; it was definitely worth the two hour wait (note: standing in line, not seated). It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience to see this jazz icon playing, and most likely our first and last chance to see him in concert, given the fact that, now 87 years old (we didn't even know he was still around), Brubeck makes rare public appearances. The live performance of "Take Five" was unforgettable, although I must admit that probably much of the fascination and excitement comes from the mere thought of seeing a living legend. For the very same reason in 2002 I went to see Woody Allen playing the clarinet at the Carlyle. The major difference is that Brubeck can actually play. Also, he seemed to be having a good time, as opposed to Allen and his complete inability to forge any kind of connection to the listeners to the point of pathetic self-enclosure as if the public performance were a doctor's order.

Tonight's concert ranks very high on my list of extraordinary events I attended in NYC. It would have probably deserved the first place if it weren't for the wedding I attended the other day. The craziest wedding I saw. It was mine.

We got married at the New York City Hall on Friday November 23rd around 2.30 pm. Saying that we had a simple wedding would be lapsing into hyperbole. Thanks god we got a sense of what was awaiting us when we went to get our marriage license a couple of days before. The most personal touch in the whole procedure was the "congratulations and good luck, guys" shut over the counter by the clerk at the Western Union branch where we purchased the money order. The rest was all about standing in line in Kafkaesque corridors with bizarre people, mixed couples, visa seekers of all kinds. Russian mail-order-brides, a Mexican couple dressed in red from head to toe, a couple from the Bronx you would be terrified to run into at night, a German and an Ethiopian who had to "borrow" an Indian groom behind them in the line as witness as they didn't have one of their own... In a word, a zoo.

We were issued a marriage license on Wednesday. Called our designated witness on Thursday but since it was Thanksgiving we couldn't get hold of her. So we ended up sending a text message to her on Thursday night: "Getting married tomorrow. Wanna come?" and went to bed without knowing whether we would be able to get married the day after. She called the morning after. Screaming with excitement, she told us that she had other plans for the day but would call her husband who was out running some errands and ask her sister to babysit. This is how witness # 1 was notified with a text message and witness # 2 while he was shopping at Home Depot on Black Friday. After a quick sandwich at Pret-a-Manger, we met up with our witnesses at City Hall at 1.30.

From our side we did our utmost to make the experience as solemn as possible -e.g. I left my ipod at home. However, no matter how hard you try, the actual ceremony still takes less than ordering your food at McDonald's. The two of us and the witnesses standing before the officiant, the American and the NY State flags on the sides. The ceremony started with the formula "If anyone present can show just cause as to why this couple may not be legally joined together, you should now declare it, or hereafter hold your peace". Just like in the movies, cool! Well, actually first of all the officiant asked if we had rings. We didn't, so he said "All right, then just hold hands." True, we left the romance behind but as odd as it may sound, we managed not to lose much of the joy. We felt emotional during the ceremony and I was happy to have K. and her husband by our side; they are caring people and our closest friends in NY. We spent the rest of the day with them. A toast at the Ritz Hotel lounge in Battery Park followed by a lovely dinner at a French restaurant in Tribeca.

And They Lived Happily Ever After.

The lights are on # 2

Always wanted that fireplace that can add charm and warmth to any room and to your soul? If you want to add the beauty of a fireplace without actually constructing one, the answer is obviously a fireplace DVD! As seen on Time Out New York...
Gee... you live and learn...

Mannekenpis' revenge

We nearly jumped out of our skin when we learned yesterday that a colleague who moved to NYC last September decided to go back to Brussels. I find it hard to get my mind round such odd choice. There are job-related considerations behind her decision but also a sense of discomfort or disillusionment with the city. Culture shock? Too many rats? Bagels not cheap enough? I don't know, but this revealing article from the Guardian offers some good possible answers (thanks to M. for sending that!)

Indian diaspora lesson

After over 5 years of customer loyalty to the Chinese costume jewelery store on Broadway, I discovered another treasure trove of bangles, necklaces and everything that can turn a bad day around. It's owned by an Indian and offers the comfort of a husband's waiting chair (see picture). When I visited the store for the first time I thought I would try to see whether they sold those traditional Indian earrings I bought in Mumbay. So I asked the guy at the counter. Shot the question. Pause. Much to my amazement the guy started pivoting his head from side-to-side. The Indian head-tilt!!
Now, in India the gesture in theory can mean yes, no, maybe, nice to meet you, I understand, I am listening, I agree, I disagree, you are an idiot, or anything in between. In practice when you ask for something at a store in India, no matter what you're asking for, you get it. They have it. In Incredible India everything is possible. True, the seller is a master at building up to suspenseful climaxes by tilting his head for those 10 seconds that leave you wondering about whether you will get your stuff or not, but at the end of the day the outcome is always a positive one. Ask for a can of depleted uranium, he will waggle his head, rake about down the counter and hand it over to you in cheap wrapping paper.
Coming back to my jewelery seller: head tilt, suspense, and NO, he doesn't have those earrings. Indian diaspora lesson number one: Incredible India stops in India.
I'm now eagerly waiting to see a "Honk ok please" sign on the back of a cab to disprove such sad conclusion of inferential logic.

Dubious inventions: the lights are on but no one is home

On sale at my grocery store


I just can't imagine how we all managed to get by without this massive improvement to our lifestyles.