Not Your Dad’s Miami

Russian and Arab languages now join English and Spanish in the streets.

Florida’s population grew almost 15 percent during the last decade—doubling the overall US population growth rate. 

Miami, the state’s second most-populous city, is home to approximately half a million souls, including snowbirds, Latin American immigrants, and digital nomads.

All drawn by the irresistible combination of excellent weather, multiculturalism, and the lack of a personal income tax.

Gentrification has bridged South Beach with the mainland to form the sprawling city of “Greater Miami and the Beaches.”

On holiday weekends, the town brims with simultaneous events like Art Wynwood, the Miami Boat Show, concerts, fashion shows, and street festivals.

Driving back from Calle Ocho during the last President’s Weekend, I marveled at an unrecognizable skyline more reminiscent of Dubai than the place that welcomed me twenty years ago.

Back then, there were still remnants of the golden age that culminated with the assassination of Gianni Versace.

The mission was to become Urbe’s first foreign correspondent.

The increasingly popular Village Voice-inspired Caracas publication was annoying the new government of Comandante Hugo Chavez with a mix of irreverence and—especially—American pop culture.

My coverage of Madonna’s 2001 “Drowned World Tour” in Fort Lauderdale, FL

We were looking to expand beyond borders, just as the “World Wide Web” began upending our trade by birthing what we know today as the online content industry.

As I executed my first assignments, I watched with trepidation how my country’s government amended the constitution to eliminate presidential term limits.

The writing was on the wall. I embraced my new American life.

Around the time I rented my first studio apartment, a friend gave me his old TV set. The first broadcast images were of skyscrapers collapsing after being hit by passenger jets.

Though early 2000s South Beach still echoed its former glamorous self—drag queens hung out with bodybuilders on Ocean and 12th, scantily-clad rollerbladers handed out flyers on Lincoln Road, and celebrities roamed Española Way—change was in the air.

Season after season, many of the Art Deco District hotels that lodged the rich and famous in the 1920s, soldiers right before WWII, and supermodels in the 1990s crumbled to Mother Nature and the indifference of real estate developers.

The MTV reality show starlet replaced the movie star. Rowdy spring breakers, online influencers, and crypto bros followed.

In Alton Road, a party-kid-turned-middle-aged-dad reminisced about Junior Vasquez’s and Tracy Young’s “dope” music sets of yesteryear at Level and Crobar. The party was officially over.

I became an exile yet again. I was sad to leave good friends and a promising career in hospitality behind. But I had to nurse a chronic tropical hangover and return to my roots as a writer—this time in English.

Three years later, I came back as a visitor. I was ecstatic about the warm weather after a ferocious New York City winter. I shed my coat while skipping like a madman upon landing. The Cuban ladies who sold cafecito in the airport terminal must’ve thought I was loco.

One of my first visits to Miami as a tourist circa 2007

I’d witnessed the city struggle to regain footing on every subsequent trip since. Including during the pandemic, when the local authorities’ laxity might’ve attracted some of the ensuing holiday lawlessness we see in the news today.

But things are finally falling into place once again. Miami seems to be maturing into a world capital where development is ubiquitous and Russian and Arab languages join English and Spanish in the streets.

Old and new friends from around the world met at the heart of Little Havana this winter.

Gays, moms, Cuban refugees—and everyone in between!—danced away and sang along in the street to Miami Sound Machine’s “Conga” and Will Smith’s “Miami.”

Then, the sun beautifully set in this perfectly-unperfect Southern Florida piece of the American Dream.

Isn’t Always Fashion Week in Paris?

We came for the food.

My puffy green jacket was the least stylish garment I could wear this weekend.

At least it kept me warm during Paris’ windy and damp February—isn’t la mode supposed to be all about functionality?

Besides, we came for the food.

We almost didn’t make our Friday evening reservation, though.

Eurostar pulled in Gare Du Nord just in time for the rush hour traffic exacerbated by the global fashionistas commuting to the shows we weren’t going to attend.

But after hopping on the metro, we witnessed a spontaneous, trendy display.

Parisians from all walks of life, from traditional North African to urban fabulous to mime chic, served style on the moving runaway.

So much so that we almost missed our stop at Le Marais, where we promptly checked in Hotel Duo, changed into boring but Michelin star-appropriate button shirts, and headed out to Restaurant Pages.

Chef Teshi’s spot seemed too bright initially, but I soon realized the lighting worked perfectly with the immaculately white walls, smartly dressed staff, and delicately executed French/Japanese cuisine.

Restaurant Pages

A frosty city greeted us the following day. Chinese lanterns commemorating the Lunar New Year lined Rue Chapon on our way to a new favorite: Parcelles.

The child of a bubbly French couple, the restaurant/store was established right before the pandemic and thrived by keeping Parisians fed and boozed via delivery.

Smily servers approach your table, happy to translate the menu and make food and wine recommendations from their inventory and beyond—something only those extremely confident about their offering can do.

Parcelles

Brunch warmed our hearts and fueled us with calories for a chilly stroll.

We saw Instagram models posing next to the Louvre Pyramid and tourists taking selfies against the Yayoi Kusama installation at the Louis Vuitton Champs-Élysées store.

Louis Vuitton Champs-Élysées Store

As temperatures continued to decrease that evening, we corroborated that no one makes comfort food like the French.

A warm staff, top-notch wine, and succulent roasted lamb shoulder with seasonal vegetable casserole welcomed us to an old favorite: Le Villaret.

Le Villaret

On Sunday noon, we enjoyed a walk through the neighborhood.

The advanced stage of Notre Dame’s restoration was reassuring, as was spotting the Hôtel de Ville decked out with the Olympic Rings in anticipation of the Paris 2024 Summer Games.

Hôtel de Ville

Next, we were off to the 15th arrondissement, home to Le Cagouille, our last culinary stop before catching the Eurostar back to London.

One of the world’s freshest fish and seafood restaurants, with superb wine pairings, is also the best spot to watch the locals enjoy Sunday brunch with their friends and families.

Seeing kids on the neighboring tables tackling coloring books instead of iPads made our day.

La Cagouille

Back in Gare du Nord, we realized beautiful creatures had invaded the place.

Supermodels of all genders and races looked even more stunning, fresh off couture, waiting for the train like the other mortals.

They rubbed off us with some of the glitz and glamour of this ever-magical and romantic City of Light.

The Unchanged Cabo Sunsets

Ringing in the new year where the desert meets the sea.

At 23:35, we retrieved the bubbles, a couple of red solo cups and rushed for the beach.

The local kids were already sitting on the sand, lit by their parked car’s beam lights, looking like a 1980s MTV video. 

Live music from the nearby clubs disrupted an almost spiritual vibe: the beachgoers looked into the sky with anticipation—like someone who waits for the passing of a comet.

We realized we’d forgotten the grapes. I felt liberated. The last couple of years taught us how naive end-of-year wishes could be.

Still, I felt cautious joy when the countdown began: 3, 2…1! All the fireworks in the world shot into the sky, and suddenly it was daytime on Palmilla Bay.

We’d arrived four days earlier, after a gelid New York City Christmas. The JFK-San Jose del Cabo flight took us from -10F to 80F in just over six hours, and it felt like a miracle.

Feeling the sand between our toes, sipping that glorious first margarita, hiking to the Big Cross: Cabo’s always been about holiday traditions for over a decade.

And, during that time, we’ve also seen the town change.

Lola, who came thirty years ago, has witnessed an even more profound transformation. Back then, there were only two shacky hotels and a landing strip. Lola loved it so much that she never returned to her native Yucatan. 

To those who came before her, she was that annoying newcomer. A decade ago, it was her turn to frown upon us. It goes on and on.

Lola worries about reckless drivers along The Corridor, the same road where the many resorts built in recent years have progressively blocked the sea view. 

We loved admiring the water back when we drove to and from San Jose’s Art Thursdays to check out works from local artists and sip free gallery wine. 

Those days you still could see Steven Spielberg speeding down the road in a golf cart, Enrique Iglesias donning a poncho in 80-degree weather, and Leonardo DiCaprio denying he was Leonardo DiCaprio in Agua Bar.

That was well before COVID, which feels like a lifetime ago. Once American politics spilled onto the southern tip of Mexico’s Baja California Peninsula, it was not rare to spot drunken, sunburnt tourists decrying “plandemic” and “stolen election.”

There goes the neighborhood.

Luckily, Cabo’s natural beauty remains as mesmerizing as the first time Steinbeck and Ricketts sailed past El Arco and spotted whales and dolphins in the open ocean.

I felt the same exhilaration on New Year’s Day as that first boat ride from about eight years ago. This time, we anchored in Chileno Bay and jumped into the crystal-clear waters for a swim.

The captain tossed us snorkeling goggles, so we could see the colorful fish blissfully swimming amongst us. On the way back, the crew made us fajitas, which we wolfed down with some deliciously cold Pacificos

A massive seal, unbothered by the many vessels, including a couple of titanic cruise ships, goofily swam by as we approached the marina.

We reached the hotel in time to experience the first sunset of the year. The timeless yellow and orange hues colored the Sea of Cortez like thousands of years hadn’t passed, and the Spanish conquistador—the first annoying newcomer of them all—didn’t dare to rename it. 

Christmas Carols & Middle Eastern Music on Oxford Street

The melting pot doesn’t end in London, though.

“Immigrants have been coming here for over a thousand years,” said our guide, Debbie. The self-professed “London girl” also warned us that we’d all be foreigners in Kent, England, our destination 44 miles southeast of London.

We started in the historic Leeds Castle, owned by monarchs and lords from the 13th through the 19th centuries and purchased and restored by American heiress Lady Olive Baillie in the 1920s.

Leeds Castle, Kent, England

After she died in 1974, Lady Baillie left the property to a foundation created to preserve it for posterity. The building, grounds and personal effects are evidence of a time when American industrialists and cash-strapped European nobility were a match made in heaven. 

Lady Baillie’s Apartments

Up next, Debbie and our lovely coach’s driver, Joan, took us to the historic White Cliffs of Dover. The white chalk natural monuments are as much a homecoming sight for those sailing back to England today as once they were for “Dunkirk” survivors amid WWII.

White Cliffs of Dover

For the third and final leg of our day trip, we made it to the UNESCO World Heritage city of Canterbury. Syrian, Thai and Mexican food trucks—and even a Bolivian guy selling Andes-themed Christmas sweaters—lined the street market leading up to the medieval Canterbury Cathedral Gate.

Canterbury Cathedral Gate

The breathtaking Canterbury Cathedral, also known as “England in Stone,” has witnessed the country’s history for centuries. Magna Carta negotiations, royal weddings and funerals, WWII bombings and the martyrdom of Thomas Becket are some of the momentous events that happened within its walls. 

Canterbury Cathedral

Back in London, holiday angels flew over locals and visitors from all walks of life at the tune of Christmas carols and Middle Eastern music played by stores and the ubiquitous pedicabs from Oxford Street to Spitalfields Market.

Spitalfields Market.

The deliciously-looking Brazilian Bolinhos de Bacalhau, Napolitan pizzettas and other international delicatessen tempted me as I walked through the market and towards Brick Lane, the district famous for its Indian and Bangladeshi curry houses. 

Brick Lane, East London

London will treat you to the world’s flavors on one corner and its grand heritage on the next. Holborn Bars, a Victorian red terracotta building in Camden, stands on the site of a former Inn where Charles Dickens lived and worked.

Holborn Bars

Built by the Knights Templar, Temple Church is another national treasure. The official house worship of the Inner and Middle Temples, two of London’s four ancient legal colleges, holds the tombs of prominent jurists, knights and priceless works of art like the Blitz-surviving 12th-century Victorian tiles. 

Temple Church

The railings of another historic church, Holy Sepulchre London, preserve London’s First Drinking Fountain. The Metropolitan Drinking Fountain and Cattle Trough Association built it in 1859 to end the cholera outbreaks that had plagued the city until then.

London’s First Drinking Fountain

Sir John Soane’s Museum is one of those underrated London treasures. The former Lincoln Inn Fields, home of the famous Neo-classical architect, remains untouched since the Victorian days, and it’s renowned for its sepulchral chamber with the Egyptian sarcophagus. 

Sir John Soane’s Museum

While Central London’s Christmas decorations are a must, it’s worth taking the trek to Christmas at Kew, where talented artists combined the botanical beauty with neon lights and holiday music to achieve spectacular, immersive experiences like The Palm House and The Cathedral.

Christmas at Kew

Last but not least, visiting Warner Bros. Studio Tour London — The Making of Harry Potter was genuinely magical, as was witnessing how the phenomenon based on J. K. Rowling’s famous books keeps bringing together people of all nationalities, races and generations.

Warner Bros. Studio Tour London — The Making of Harry Potter

Happy Christmas, England!

Japan: Real-Life Anime (Part III)

Japan, a country where anime artists design public transportation, is living in 2022, while the rest of us remain stuck in 1954.

Part I

Part II

There’s not a dull moment in Tokyo.

I’ve spent six days in the Japanese capital and have already experienced sensory overload, a lunar eclipse and an earthquake.

But none of these things stop Tokyoites, who are intensely punctual, clean and orderly.

No one jaywalks, and everyone wears a face mask while looking sharp (no sweats, leggings or any of that “business casual” nonsense).

The city has thirteen metro lines: nine Tokyo Metro and four Toei Subway ones, along with the JR East and Yamanote lines—each with multiple interconnected, numbered, Romanized and color-coded stations.

JR East

It is rush hour all day long, even on the weekends. Everything blinks and beeps everywhere: perennial PA announcements, ubiquitous video screens of all sizes, arcade game-type music and even artificially-generated bird-chirping.

This city is intense. And this is coming from a New Yorker.

Thank god for urban oases like Gotokuji Temple, the birthplace of the famous “Lucky Cat.”

Legend has it daimyo li Naotaka was hunting on the temple grounds when the abbot’s pet cat beckoned him inside, saving him from getting struck by lightning.

Gotokuji Temple

Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden is another peaceful retreat for stressed office workers and overwhelmed tourists in the middle of the busy Shibuya and Shinjuku districts.

The shogun bequeathed it to Lord Naitō in the Edo period. The latter used it as a family residence until the Meiji Restoration, when it underwent various phases, including as a botanical and an imperial garden. 

The current layout dates from the turn of the 20th century. As one sits on the tranquil and beautifully-manicured lawns, it’s hard to imagine the obliteration the site sustained due to Allied air raid bombings during WW2.

Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden

Yasukuni Jinja, a Shinto shrine founded in 1879 by Emperor Meiji in Chiyoda City, memorializes many WW2 victims and those from previous conflicts. 

The grand First and Second gates, Tearooms and Divine Pond Garden lead to the Main Hall, which features the Japanese Imperial Chrysanthemum, honoring the over 2 million men, women and children who died for the country. 

The Memorial Fountain “Statue of a Mother Offering Water” was the most moving. The Kiwanis Club of Tokyo, a volunteer organization founded in Detroit, MI, dedicated it to many of the war dead who “longed for their mothers and pure water at the last moment.” 

Yasukuni Shrine Memorial Fountain

Every corner of this city is historical, including open-air markets like Ameyoko. The shopping street next to Ueno Station in Taito City is a haven for fresh and prepared food, clothing and technology. 

In the aftermath of WW2, it was the site of a black market that sold surplus US army goods, including candy, at a time when sugar was scarce. Among the current businesses, a store that sells military gear stands out.

The shopping district is bustling the week after Christmas when locals flock to take advantage of New Year’s sales, which offer many staples used in traditional Japanese end-of-year gatherings.


Ameyoko Shopping Street

Kappabashi Street—or Kitchen Town—between Ueno and Asakusa is another famous urban market that caters to the restaurant business. 

Stores selling sushi knives, ramen bowls and ultra-realistic versions of plastic dishes restaurants use for displays line the street.

A couple of shops specialize in chopsticks alone. They have multiple designs, which, upon sale, they wrap up beautifully. It’s hard to imagine such establishments in the US, where Amazon has substituted even the more general brick-and-mortar stores. 

Kappabashi Street

No Tokyo visit would be complete without riding the Leigi Matsumoto-designed Himiko boat. 

The anime legend, who collaborated with Daft Punk in several music videos for their 2001 album “Discovery,” created a real-life vessel out of his mythical space operas, like “Space Battleship Yamato” and “Captain Harlock: Dimensional Voyage.”

It’s a water bus fit to cruise Tokyo Bay and admire its futuristic landmarks, including the Tokyo Skytree and the Rainbow Bridge.

Himiko Cruise

Part IV

Japan: Real-Life Anime (Part II)

Remember when Bugs Bunny dug a hole so deep he ended up popping up on an upside-down oriental world? News flash: we’re the upside-down ones.

Part I

Japanese culture is rooted in politeness, loyalty, justice, modesty, refined manners and respect for the elderly. 

Do yourself a favor and research before visiting. 

If not, asking the hotel staff or your tourist guide about basic etiquette is useful. 

When everything else fails: read the room.

For example, when entering Meiji Shrine, walk along the sidelines, never through the middle, which is the gods’ path. 

Meiji Shrine, Harajuku Entrance

The Japanese people dedicated the shrine to their 122nd emperor, Meiji, a progressive leader who modernized the country through a “Japanese Spirit and Western Knowledge” philosophy.

Meiji Shrine

Leading by example, he encouraged the Japanese to wear Western clothes and haircuts and to broaden their food and drink consumption. French wine lovers, especially those who favor Burgundy, will marvel at the display of barrels after the Harajuku entrance.

Meiji Shrine Wine

Across the vast and lush gravel gods’ path, another display signifies the intersection between Estas and West through spirits. Barrels of sake, the only drink the Japanese enjoyed before introducing wines, whiskeys and beers, provide another Instagrammable photo op.

Meiji Shrine Sake

Nowhere is Emperor Meiji’s legacy more evident than from the Tokyo Skytree. The 2+ thousand-feet broadcasting structure’s observation deck affords a dizzying 360-degree view of the 40 million people megalopolis (think New York City’s One Vanderbilt times five).

Tokyo Skytree View

Nearby, Sensō-ji stands as the city’s oldest Buddhist temple. A gigantic complex with halls, gates, a five-storied pagoda and a shopping street, the site holds religious festivals attracting as many as 30 million local and foreign visitors a year.

Sensō-ji Temple

Tokyo feeds both body and soul. The Tsukiji Fish Market is one of the best places for the former. Opened in the 1930s, it encompasses wholesale and retail shops, restaurant supply stores and street-style eateries, like the one where I had the freshest (and most giant!) oyster of my life.

Tsukiji Fish Market

After sampling the delicatessen of Japanese cuisine, a stroll to Ueno Park, established in 1873, is in order. Tokyo’s oldest public park exemplifies the Westernization of the early Meiji period. Think London’s Hyde Park with museums, temples and shrines. 

Ueno Park

The park is home to the Tokyo National Museum and the National Museum of Western Art, among other cultural institutions. It also houses the magnificent Ueno Tōshō-gū Shrine, established in 1627, next to the Sacred Tree that predates it by 200 years.

Ueno Tōshō-gū Shrine

Ueno Daibutsu is another religious gem on the park grounds. The remaining head of an ancient Buddha statue, salvaged after earthquakes, fires, and wars, is a symbol of Japanese resilience and a popular spot for students to pray before exams. 

Ueno Daibutsu

North of Ueno Park, in Taitō City, you’ll find the upscale and bohemian neighborhood of Yanaka, which would give Venice Beach, CA vibes if Venice had ancient Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines. 

Yanaka

The WW2 Allied bombing spared Yanaka, which shows in the well-preserved quaint homes. Wandering among its lovely neighborhoods, enjoying coffee and shopping for traditional Japanese souvenirs and stationery is a real treat.

Yanaka

The tomb of The Last Shogun in the Yanaka Cemetery is the cherry on top of this historic area. The last warrior to rule Japan surrendered Edo Castle helping to restore imperial power. In 1902, Emperor Meiji granted him the title of duke, which he bore until he died in 1913. The mausoleum is a nostalgic reminder of the end of an era in Japan.

Tomb of The Last Shogun

Part III

Japan: Real-Life Anime (Part I)

Traditional and modern meet in Tokyo’s hyperreality.

I saw Sailor Moon handing out flyers in Akihabara.

I’ve been in Tokyo for 48 hours, and the line between reality and fiction still seems blurry.

To say this megalopolis of ancient temples and technological might is another world would be an understatement.

Almost immediately after the 14-hour flight from Newark, I hopped on the subway to reach the world-famous Shibuya Crossing.

The world’s busiest intersection greeted me with a choreography that made the crossing look empty one minute and inundated with what looked like millions of people the next.

Shibuya Crossing

The next day, the colorful stores and characters of youth Mecca Harajuku made me feel like a guest character in a live-action anime. I understood why Gwen Stefani was obsessed with it back in 2004.

Takeshita Street

Harajuku offers more than just fashionable boutiques. A short stroll away, the magnificent Myōenji Temple and its adjacent graveyard (or hakaba) stand against the backdrop of a modern residential building, where a baby cried incessantly: a perfect metaphor for the circle of life. 

Myōenji Temple

The Onden Shrine is another religious jewel in the neighborhood, blessing romantic relationships for 400 years and counting. I loved the komainu or lion-dog statues and the ubiquitous hanging pieces of origami-ed paper (ofuda) left as offerings.

Onden Shrine

Experiencing Tokyo’s Pedestrian Paradises was another priceless treat. On the weekends, the city closes car traffic on main avenues in several districts. Cycling and jogging are prohibited so the walkers can enjoy themselves as peacefully as possible. My first pedestrian paradise was in Ginza, where I got to strut between its many clothing stores. 

Ginza Pedestrian Paradise

Ginza is also the home of Kabuki-za Theater, the main theater in Tokyo for kabuki. Initially built in 1889, the building has undergone several reconstructions due to fires, Allied bombings during WWII and concerns over earthquakes.

Kabuki-za Theater

The Wako Tower is another unmissable attraction in the area. Founded in 1881, the upscale department store sells watches, jewelry, porcelains, chocolates and handbags—among other high-end products. Reconstructed after the Great Kantō earthquake of 1923, it was one of the few remaining intact buildings after WWII.

Wako Tower

Akihabara was my second Pedestrian Paradise. Also known as Electric Town, this nerd’s (otaku) paradise with densely-packed, brightly lit and Casio keyboard-type music-playing buildings offers duty-free sales to tourists trickling in after the extended COVID lockdown.

Akihabara Pedestrian Paradise

Back to the digs in Chidoya-ku, I ran into the imposing Tokyo Daijingu. This work of art from the 1860s is where I first witnessed people worshipping. After removing my hat and discreetly handling my flashless phone camera from a prudent distance, I snapped this photo. 

Tokyo Daijingu

As per my hotel’s recommendation, I ended my day at a conveyor belt restaurant on the fourth floor of a busy neighborhood building. The only human contact was a bus person who bowed before clearing your spot on the plexiglass-protected counter after you rose to pay the check in a parking lot-style kiosk.

Suhsiro, Chiyoda-ku

I was never more grateful for my immigrant parents’ advice as a young kid: “wherever you go, do as the locals.” The lack of English instructions made me mimic my fellow patrons, unsuccessfully trying to blend in and navigate this “Jetsons”-type eatery. It was me against the sushi.

I was exhausted. It was time to return to my room, where I passed out, only for the second wave of jet lag to wake me up three hours later—hence, this post.

Part II

What It Was Like to Ride 2020 in NYC

A global pandemic, civil unrest and a contentious election: never forget our Year of Discontent.

Dear New York, I hope you’re doing well
I know a lot’s happened and you’ve been through hell

Beastie Boys

March 2020:

We were told to work from home—perhaps for a couple of weeks—to “flatten the curve.” I tossed the notebooks in my backpack but left photos and other corporate mementos in my cubicle while people around me were coughing and sneezing. Times Square started to feel like a ghost town.

Our favorite downtown restaurant’s closing party was our last hurrah before the lockdown. When we arrived, everyone was hand-sanitizing, social distancing and elbow bumping. By the end of the evening, the place was packed. There were babies on portable bassinets on top of the bar. People were tasting each other’s wines and taking cheek-to-cheek selfies.

Like Bill Murray’s Phil Connors in “Groundhog Day,” we soon were stuck on the same day of back-to-back Zoom meetings and bizarre presidential press briefings. Dinner was the highlight of our day, as was joining our neighbors on the building’s rooftop to salute healthcare workers.

April 2020:

We fell sick. Was it the last days at the office or our downtown soirée? Despite a shortage of tests at the time, we knew it was COVID when a loss of smell and taste was declared an official symptom. Luckily, we didn’t develop the dreaded shortness of breath that would’ve landed us in the hospital, where makeshift morgues in the way of refrigerated trucks started to crowd the surroundings.

Three weeks later, with our energy back, we left the house to encounter a world where you could hear birds chirping during rush hour. Grand Central Station, Madison Square Park and other city landmarks’ film aesthetic had turned post-apocalyptic. The Big Apple was eerie and unrecognizable without her huddled masses.

And yet, there was a budding sense of hope. We started to meet city friends for outdoor dining. As a post-911 New Yorker, I learned that how the city was pulling through this new crisis paralleled how it came back after the horrific terrorist attacks.

May-Sept 2020:

Things would take another wrong turn. I, like hundreds of thousands in the city, got laid off. Civil unrest, triggered by the murder of George Floyd, became the new normal. There was looting resulting in permanent police presence and the boarding up of businesses for months to come. We fell asleep and woke up to the sound of choppers. Was this Kabul or Manhattan?

Equidistant between Union Square and Washington Square Park, we had a front-row seat to the daily action. It started around 5 PM with what looked like students chanting against police violence. As the night fell, a different crowd emerged, welding bicycles and skateboards like weapons and provoking the cops by breaking glass and setting trashcans on fire.

October 2020:

With a contentious presidential election nearing, New Yorkers restored a temporary sense of normalcy by donning their Halloween costumes and marching on Greenwich Village. The iconic parade didn’t occur, but that didn’t stop aliens, harlequins, vampires and witches from making the most of it (refreshingly, there weren’t either pandemic or politics-related costumes).

November 2020:

After a global pandemic, the de facto militarization of the streets and a toxic political campaign, America would elect a new president. In hindsight, expecting a different administration to usher in a new era in this politically polarized world feels naive. The nation would witness more troublesome events, chiefly the insurrection at the Capitol in Washington, D.C., on January 6, 2021.

But at least for a day, when the networks called the result, a sense of joy and catharsis descended upon New York City. Unseasonably warm and bright weather provided the perfect backdrop for people to take to the streets for the first time in months not to protest but to celebrate turning a corner in this Year of Discontent.

It’s up to You…and New York

Can you make it there? It all depends on the story in which you’re bound to star.

The TikTok video shows a group of young Venezuelan migrants dancing salsa in Times Square after a long and treacherous journey through the Darién Gap and the Rio Grande.

“Winter is coming,” comments someone implying the summer clothing-clad youngsters should go somewhere else before the Big Apple chews them up and spits them out.

Like the rest of us, they followed the brochure. “The whole If You Can Make It There business,” as Colson Whitehead wrote.

“King Kong” climbing the Empire State Building, “Friends” sipping coffee in Central Perk and the Schuyler sisters looking around in “Hamilton” are part of the brochure.

With a virtually infinite list of cultural references, all the brochure’s roads lead to New York City. But is it the real or the fictitious one? Walker Percy would say the latter. 

In his 1975 essay “The Loss of the Creature,” he described the traveler’s “symbolic complex.”

Why is it almost impossible to gaze directly at the Grand Canyon … and see it for what it is … the thing … has been appropriated by the symbolic complex which has already been formed in the sightseer’s mind … by picture postcard, geography book, tourist folders, and the words Grand Canyon.

Walker Percy

Percy says travelers are set for disappointment as the real thing will never live up to the expectations set by their books, songs, movies, etc.

El George Harris uses the politically incorrect language of stand-up comedy to make the same point. 

He jokes in Spanish that his New York City movie-induced fascination shattered when he first saw “the ecosystem of crackheads, prostitutes and homeless persons.”

Similarly, David Sedaris shares Big Apple reality check stories throughout his work.

Raised in North Carolina, he moved to New York City dreaming about working as a writer for his favorite soap opera on day one

Instead, years before becoming a published author, he made a living as a housekeeper—and a Christmas Elf in the department store Macy’s Santaland.

I didn’t know it at the time, but rock en Español band Mecano’s 1998 song “No Hay Marcha en Nueva York” (“No Party in New York”) also illustrates Percy’s “symbolic complex.”

After fulfilling their lifelong dream of visiting the Big Apple, the band’s frontperson grew disappointed, blaming the TV series for deceiving them all along.

But the mythology is so strong that these counter-narratives do nothing but increase the gravitational pull for some of us.

My brochure was heavy on “Sex and the City,” which my Miami friends and I binged in the pre-Netflix years. 

The more episodes we watched, the more obsessed I became with Carrie Bradshaw’s town and the crazier they thought I was for wanting to trade a tropical paradise for “crazy” New York City.

“You’ll freeze in the winter,” “people are rude,” and “the streets smell” were just some of the things they said from their experience.

And (for the most part) they weren’t wrong. But neither was I. The City That Never Sleeps is not for everyone. And all those things that drive some away pull in others.

It all depends on the story in which you’re bound to star.

WeWork All Over Medellin

Digital nomads, Venezuelan migrants and politically polarized Colombians share this soccer-obsessed sprawling tropical metropolis.

Richard Jones, who used to bounce between Brooklyn and Pasadena as an entrepreneur, found a new tech hub.

From his latest venture, he smiles alongside his wife and their toddler as an Instagram-perfect family ready to help you become your own boss—from a tropical paradise.

The Joneses are part of a growing contingent that, since COVID made remote work mainstream, is taking advantage of favorable exchange rates, new visas and good weather overseas.

They set up shop in places like Costa Rica, Portugal and—more recently—Colombia, where the proliferation of coworking spaces suggests the trend is also taking hold in South America.

WeWork El Poblado

I contemplate one of the Medellin WeWork buildings from a bus stuck in traffic.

Avenida El Poblado—which connects the city with its suburbs since a time the population was a tenth of today’s—is being retrofitted for metroplús.

The bus rapid transit system, along with the sleek Metro and its affiliated float of trolley and cable cars, is the first-rate public transportation network the Joneses appreciate.

Medellin Metro

Instead, my cousin makes me ride the traditional public bus, which blasts “agricultural music” while a Brad Pitt-esque Jesus stares from the driver’s plexiglass cabin.

The man next to us streams a soccer match on his smartphone. Behind, a lady argues with someone via WhatsApp voice note.

One of the world’s most innovative cities is also a place of contrasts where past and present intersect on every corner.

Universal tactile paving and accessible outdoor gyms co-exist with hugely-breasted mannequins that promote body dysmorphia outside clothing stores.

No pressure, girls

Pueblito Paisa, a cobblestoned and colorful fake village located on a hilltop in the middle of the valley, replicates the traditional Colombian town, like a Gabriel García Marquez-themed Disney park.

It affords a 360-degree view of the surrounding sprawling metropolis: There’s the old airport. Look at El Poblado with all those tall buildings.

Pueblito Paisa

Over there, there’s El Centro de Medellin, where some Venezuelan immigrants work as law clerks and others wipe cars’ windshields during a traffic jam caused by yet another anti-government protest.

They join many more street vendors who swarm imposing churches, Art Deco office buildings, plazas with larger-than-life Botero sculptures and coffee haciendas-turned-shopping centers.

All peddle lottery tickets, knock-out jeans and—at lunchtime—corrientazos (affordable homecooked-style meals targeted to hungry tourists and busy office workers).

Coltejer Building

The nearby 1970s needle-shaped Coltejer building is a testament to the city’s supremacy in the textile industry.

Today, media companies and retail brands share the skyscraper. La Tienda Verde (The Green Store) is, by far, the most popular.

The official outlet of Atletico Nacional, one of the most-followed local soccer teams, La Tienda’s windows display a shrine to the club’s Golden Era stars, including Andrés Escobar.

The late defender, murdered after scoring a self-goal that eliminated the Colombian national team from the 1994 FIFA World Cup, sits in the middle like an unofficial patron saint.

La Tienda Verde

Not related to the infamous drug lord—Pablo—Andrés is a reminder of how far this city has come from its heyday of narco-violence.

And so it’s Comuna 13, the former San Javier slum on the western edge of Medellin is now one of the city’s most vibrant communities, as evidenced by its latest project: a women’s prison-turned-university.

Guides like David tell stories about how the house where he grew up and still lives was on the invisible borders between rival gangs and how this affected his school commute as recently as the mid-1990s.

Comuna 13

All while rappers interact with tourists through creative improvisations, break dancers entertain the crowd with gravity-defying movements and colorful graffiti and muralist art inspire in the background.

Refreshingly, a predominantly young and urban community doesn’t vibe to the globally ubiquitous and commercialized reggaeton but old-school breakbeats and boleros, which charming guitar-clad abuelos still play on the corners.

Comuna 13

Albeiro, our polite cab driver, was another pleasant surprise as he insulated us from Medellin’s perennial rush hour traffic by playing Bach instead of Bad Bunny.

He took us to ecological park El Salado, a natural sanctuary and refuge in the municipality of Envigado, high above the overpopulated and touristed city chaos, and where nearby fincas manifest themselves in men riding donkeys alongside motorcycles on the narrow road. 

A green and lush loop trail surrounds a crystal-clear and refreshing stream where it is a delight to submerge your bare feet for a real connection with nature.

El Salado

The sound of the water is hypnotizing; the closer you’ll get to nirvana in this formerly rural and sleepy coffee enclave which non-stop development will soon turn into a megalopolis.

At this rate, the Joneses will have to climb farther up the mountain to relax in these natural oases.

%d bloggers like this: