October 27,2009.from my Redroom files
Well,if the truth be told,I made a valiant attempt to write on ''my favourite city'' on Friday last and you just wouldn't believe what happened to me.I was writing about my first visit to New York when wham!Somehow I lost 80% of my essay.This ,needless to say had me depressed for the entire weekend.Anyhow,I really liked the people I met in New York.There was this elderly lady(about 75 I'd say),whom I met at McDonald's(I think on Lexington Avenue),who told me I had white teeth.And the black nurse with her who told me that her ex-hubby used to visit my country regularly for the annual Carnival celebrations.Then there was the chap working at McDonald's who spoke with the gravelly drawl of Al Pacino of '' the Godfather 111.'' I told him so and he rewarded me with his life's story.
I walked down 42nd Street to Time Square.This is where about a million people had gathered to usher in the new millennium.There had been such expectation,such excitement, such uncertainty.There were many people milling around,many tourists(busloads came and went).There were many theatres.Much activity.This was a hub in Manhattan.
After I returned home I was able to recognize Manhattan and Time Square in several films.I had walked on those same streets.My first night in Manhattan had been spent at the Double Tree (the Hilton Group).Here,the treatment meted out to me was excellent.The next day I went in search of Barnes and Noble.I asked a white gentleman in his mid-thirties for directions,but he informed me in his halting english that he was from Portugal.The next couple was from Paris and couldn't assist also.What! I thought,the whole world was in New York! The elderly man whom I approached next answered in clear American and proceeded to give me clear and precise directions.I found the bookstore quite easily.Even though they were not publishing new manuscripts at the moment I was still satisfied that at least I had spoken to them face to face.A year later,my book would appear on their listing.
There was another reason why I loved New York.Derek Walcott had won the prestigious Nobel Prize for literature in 1992 while he held the professorship of creative writing at Boston University.I have always felt a special connection to Walcott's poetry ever since and it was only after he won the Nobel Prize that I took up writing.So,I used to think:Walcott at Boston and I at New York.This has been my fantasy.
