elm street

Beginnings can be as overwhelming as endings, though in a different sort of way.

People have been asking me for an update, they want to know all about what’s been happening and how I’m liking my new situation. And I want to oblige, really I do. I don’t know how many times in the past couple of weeks I’ve sat down with my notebook or at the keyboard to tell all about it. But the change is so drastic, and so overwhelming, that I still don’t know where to begin. I think of five good ways to spin the story, but my brain jumps from one to the next and back again so quickly, I can’t seem to put together a coherent strain of thought.

I am now living in New Haven, Connecticut. Despite having seen so much of the country, I continue to be surprised at just how different the various regions are. This is the first time I’ve been to the East Coast proper (I don’t think DC counts, does it?). I can’t speak for the rest of New England, but I find New Haven to be a city of dramatic contrasts. It is the home of Yale, an intellectual Mecca in all its splendor or affectation, depending on who you talk to; but it is also a place of inequality, poverty and hard-luck stories.

Take a walk along the street where I live. Go out the front door and to the left and you will see a string of colorful window displays: a sports bar and a noodle restaurant and shops selling the kinds of products you’re likely to see lampooned on the ‘stuff white people like’ blog. Within a block or so, the shops give way to sprawling stone structures: some of Yale’s academic buildings and residential colleges, which are among the most impressive examples of American architecture that I have seen. (Though I have to confess, it’s a bit of a let down to find out that many of Yale’s grand buildings weren’t constructed until the 1930s. After all, I studied a university that’s twice as old as America is a country. (You don’t need to be an Ivy Leaguer to be disgustingly smug.))

On the other hand, if you turn right when leaving my house, the scene is very different. The houses are older and some need a coat of paint. The stores are older, too, and offer diverse services to a diverse community. Some, like a particular hair salon I passed yesterday on my way to the supermarket, would be of little use to me. I have lived in many different environments, but this neighborhood is something different yet. It doesn’t make me feel ‘unsafe’, but neither does it make me ‘comfortable’.

In truth, I could say the same thing about Yale. I may look more like the people on that side of the street, but looks can be deceiving. No, I live between two very different worlds, and I do not belong to either one. On the other hand, I always seem to end up on the edge of things, so maybe this is not so unfamiliar after all.

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