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Of my meetings in New York and the Gospel Mass in Harlem I wrote about it in the fourth live email account from New York. I did so on the occasion of my solo trip in 2004.
Of meetings in New York I am doing a lot of them, and I even managed to attend a Gospel service. As usual a lot of people are asking me for information, and I’ve even given it to some, who knows if right.
Too bad I haven’t been stopped yet by any particularly persistent troublemakers. I usually have ready the universal answer that always works abroad: um pis la pida s’è parsot. For non-Romagnoli, that means I like piadina with prosciutto. The heckler on duty, not understanding the Romagnolo idiom, usually raises his arms and lets you off the hook.
But I was stopped by someone asking me for a signature against Bush. I told him that I am Italian, and at most I would put it against Berlusconi. He replied that if he had to collect signatures against Berlusconi as well, he would need too much paper.
I can’t find the Gospel Mass in Harlem
On a Sunday morning I went and tried to do one of the main things I had in my mind: go see a gospel service in Harlem. I’m not a practitioner at all, but I think it’s a very effective way to get into African-American culture, as indeed it was.
Since my guide was not helping me at all, I headed for the black neighborhood, trying to see if the churches marked on the map had what I was looking for.
But the churches indicated by the guidebook were not really in Harlem but nearby. It was still interesting to go into one of them: taking the elevator, seeing who was drinking coffee at mass, who was coming up to you and inviting you to sit down.
When it comes time to shake hands, I have seen people go around the church greeting everyone with kisses and hugs. The atmosphere is very different from that present in our often austere ones. Of the final homily I understood absolutely nothing, but the reverend was a really good speaker. He was also witty, as everyone laughed from time to time; I did too, although I did not know why.
At one point there was a song complete with dancer and translator for the deaf, the singer had a phenomenal voice. I came to the conclusion that if there was a similar spirit in Europe, secularization would be more limited, here going to Mass is a shared joy.
Gospel Mass: the healthy religious exaltation
Somewhat resigned to not being able to attend a real gospel service in Harlem, I began to wander around at random.
After passing a church that from the outside did not invite at all because it was in a very modern building, I get inspired and retrace my steps. The bouncer outside (there is also in churches here) points out to me that with there coke you cannot enter.
An electrocution! Everyone on their feet singing and clapping their hands like in a concert. It was a ‘totally worthwhile experience, climate of contagious enthusiasm! Nice to see everyone pulled in their good clothes. The ladies had crazy little hats, old men were singing and someone jumping on the spot! I was absolutely both the only tourist and the only white person!
Again, the reverend gave a fantastic homily in which I understood absolutely nothing. But if he had asked me at the end if he could kick my ass for my sake..well, I would have agreed. If the left took him as their leader he would win the elections certainly. In fact, the Pensioners’ Party would also win them with such a speaker. A non-verbal communication genius, if they tell me I have to redo my dissertation, I’ll do it on him!
There was an absolutely contagious atmosphere of collective elation. The gentleman next to me then was too handsome, because of the light in his eyes, the way he clapped his hands, the way he sang, and his comments to what the speaker was saying! (Every now and then he would shout, Yes man!!!).
NDR Before experiencing the Gospel Mass, it is good to be informed; for example, this article is very helpful.
One advantage of going out alone is that you get to meet new people
Of the many possible meetings on the road, those in bars are among the most interesting. But very rarely did I have a follow-up with those who were working; usually you are just a customer.
Last night I went out with the intention of going to the last restaurant where I would take a woman, and I succeeded: on a street full of Indian restaurants, there was an incredible one.
Inside it was full of luminaries, the kind we have at Christmas, but made in the shape of chili peppers, plus streamers and fake flowers, all hanging from the ceiling. It was so dense it was like being in the jungle. They were a little higher only in the passage between tables, otherwise if you stood up you would have hit your head on it. I ate well, I don’t really know what, and by the end I was so full.
So I thought I’d take a walk and headed for Manhattan, partly because there were some very nice fireworks. But as I’m going through China Town, I start to pee really loudly, and there’s no place to stop.
I keep going toward Manhattan, then the fires end, and I can’t take it anymore. If I had kept going I probably wouldn’t have found any bars open at that ‘hour, and to get back to the area where the pubs are, it would have taken me at least 20 minutes. Either I would have peed my pants, or I would have snuck into some deserted park and risked some bad encounters.
Dating in New York, evening with the bartender.
And there suddenly was a mirage! An Italian restaurant that also served as a bar for waiting customers. After ordering a beer and accomplishing my mission, freed of a great burden and relaxed, I sat down at the counter. The bartender was a native Chinese, but Chinese not even a little bit even though she spoke it poorly.
I had with me a card that with my introductions in Chinese that a friend who was studying it gave me. Never did I think that one day I might need it.
Maybe I speak it more Chinese than the chick, but it helped me to break the ice. Then in English we talked for 3 hours while she worked, exchanging anecdotes about past binge drinking.
She told me she has had a stormy life, hanging around pubs drinking since she was 16, studying business. She is a New York City hottie. On the side, she works as a bartender in a fancy restaurant and is a salesgirl in a chic chain store. But still, New York hotties are definitely better than Milano Marittima hotties.
We went together to a very nice place that was supposed to be a disco pub, but with very loud music. It wasn’t the best to be able to communicate with my homemade English. He introduced me to several of his friends, and it was very interesting.
In addition to the gospel mass and meetings in New York, also sad reflections
I re-entered ground zero. Yesterday was Father’s Day here and among the many, leaning against the barriers, was a bouquet of flowers and a card with a very tender drawing, written by a child…I photographed it, it said I love you, daddy
Links
Many years later, still in New York, I had another ‘night to remember, I recount it in: Christmas in New York, the world is small even in NY parties.
Home Trip Tripping in the USA with Viro
Previous stop Visiting New York, and how to sleep at the stadium
Next stop Going to Boston, but what a disaster the US trains are.
Trips taken, travel stories divided by continent
Countries visited in my travel stories
Anecdotes, divided by type in travel narratives
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