East River 2: Today the East River looked like a dull, dented silver cup. A day of full rain churned all the colors out and even the sky was left a ghastly grey-white. Because it’s warm, it isn’t easy to notice the lack of a clear, blue sky. But because I looked for it, I was able to appreciate the softness of a grey and white day that was neither too hot nor too cold. At the beach yesterday, though, it was very easy to notice the after-rain chill, being more accustomed to sandy places that are hot and muggy.

Banana Juice: I had two couchsurfers last week, from France, though they came from Montreal. Manon and Cédric. They were both young and happy and we all tried to not let the language barrier come between us. Cédric would speak quickly and often, stumbling rapidly over strange syllables and sounds, while Manon would speak slowly, and carefully, after periods of thinking. Both are very sweet people who I offered floor space to on a whim via the couchsurfing website. Not being the most familiar with this city, I took them to a part of Brooklyn that I vaguely know. It was after another long, rainy day and by then the rain had become no more than a consistent mist, which dampened our hair but caused no harm. We walked through Williamsburg, chasing the river, through many an abandoned building and crumbling sidewalk, before we found a hole cut in the fence. Ducking through, we came upon a whale-grey river bordered on its far side by a foggy Manhattan skyline, with buildings occasionally appearing among the dense clouds. Everything was very quiet except for the wind that would sometimes pick up and splash the water up onto the cement ledges and walls around where we stood. The landscape was very surreal and looking down we read, spray-painted in white under our feet, “Am I dreaming?” Climbing back through the fence brought us closer to the reality of the city, of people, of noise and bars and coffee shops. Hungry and cold, we found a place where pizza came with free beer. The live music ended up being a disappointment but Cédric asking the bartender for banana juice was not. After wandering the streets some more, coming across bars and studios in the most unlikely places, we headed for Pete’s Candy Store, sure to find free live music there any day of the week. The music here was much better and another beer made the night lively and silly, though I didn’t worry too much about having to work the next morning.