Familiarity of Place
Is it really a NYC-aversary without SOME existential ponderings?
Programming Note: I will be taking next Sunday off the newsletter. And possibly the Sunday after that as well. For sure, I’ll be back in your inboxes on the 15th. But probably sooner. It’s the routine after all.
There is an outpost of Cafe Grumpy in the Financial District that I’ve taken to stopping by on my way to work on the weekends. Depending on when I get out of my house, I’m usually off the train in Lower Manhattan by about 10a and have a nice, cold drink in my hand by 1015a. I’ve only been working on Governors Island since June but it’s quickly become part of my routine.
I’m a creature of habit if nothing else. Routines are often comforting to me; I settle into them lickity split. If I’m feeling off in some way, a routine is usually the solve. Or, well, the problem. The epicenter of strangeness is often a routine.
For most weekends of July and August, the same barista has been working. They learned my drink order (Iced Almond Milk Matcha) within a day or two which is a sign of a great barista. I can barely remember what I did yesterday, let alone what I said last week. It’s always so impressive to me when someone has the ability to retain that information about, essentially, strangers.
It’s also these little moments that make a place feel like home.
Thursday was my 11th NYC-aversary and I did, basically, nothing to mark the occasion. Well, I sent out this email:
But otherwise, just a little much-needed laundry.
It’s rare for me to let my NYC-aversary go by without some sort of existential marker. My therapist, obviously, clocks that as well. But when we met on Friday morning, she said, “You don’t seem particularly existential about it.” The day did kind of sneak up on me. I mean, I’ve been thinking about the end of NYC decade-aversary for a while but August 22nd, the actual day, sat down next to me with barely a whisper.
So, my therapist was right. I wasn’t feeling particularly existential about it. At least not that day. Besides, that’s what the newsletter is for. Existential rumination along with the thousands of other people doing that on Substack. Existential rumination for all!
It feels like I can mark eras of my time in New York by coffee shops. When I first moved to the city it was two places: the small coffee shop at the bottom of our building in West Harlem and the Orens up by Columbia. For my first place in Astoria it was Astoria Coffee (which has relatively recently become Olive Coffee) and occasionally, one of the Kinships. In my current place, it’s a Kinship and sometimes, Moa Coffee. Well, truthfully, my most common coffee shop these days is my house, indicative of both the effects of the pandemic as well as the effects of unemployment and financial situation.
But, again, it’s not so much the coffee shops that mark my time in the city; it’s the routines embedded in and around them. It’s the feeling of home, the familiarity of place.
I think familiarity of place comes in two forms. The first is our personal familiarity of where we live. For me, that’s easily illustrated by Google maps. When I first moved to NYC, there was no way I could have gotten most places without it. My sense of direction was not a sense so much as a usually incorrect vibe. I checked my routes and the timing of travel multiple times before I left the house, sometimes for days before. Surely the best route has changed in the last ten minutes, I must check again! The first places I internalized how to get to were the big ones: Columbia, Times Square, Lincoln Center, basically anything in the midtown corridor I guess. I could get to those places with minimal directions like the best of the tourists.
Now, Google maps is mostly a tool of timing for me. I still often map my routes but it’s to check the most optimal times to leave my house to either be early (work shifts, plays, events) or right on time/fashionably late (I’m not a fan of being the first person to get to a bar). There are still places I need more specific directions to get to. But, I’d say, the places I can get to basically from memory these days are more than those I can’t. My sense of direction has evolved from a usually incorrect vibe or a usually correct inkling.
Routines are not simply tools of stability (and stagnation, depending), they’re also dimensions of familiarity. As children, most routines are set for us. We have to be at school for certain hours of the day. Maybe there are daily, weekly, monthly activities on the schedule. Trips to visit family or vacations. Until car keys and teenage rebellion, we’re mostly not in charge of where we go, when we go, and how we get there.
To create our own routines, to have traditions, regular routes to work, knowledge and choices of various activities in various parts of town, it’s exciting. And sometimes daunting. As a kid, all you want is to be in charge. As an adult, sometimes you’d prefer someone else to take the reigns. Regardless, you create your own routine, at the base of which, roots are eager to grow. Being grounded in routine (or whatever that means for you) is building connection to the place you will live for xx amount of time, that may eventually grow to become your home as well. Or it may be temporary, as most things are. Although, even temporary things can be permanent for a little bit of time.
If the epicenter of whatever is not routine, then it’s usually time.
Time is the key to the second familiarity of place; the familiarity the place has with you.
Cities, towns, homes, apartments are just places with streets or roads, built up in concrete, wood, steel, or stone. Inanimate. But cities, towns, homes, apartments are also living things because they contain a population of living things. And a population of once living things which is, sometimes, a larger population than the currently living. In New York, it’s roughly 8 million humans worth of living things. Animate.
We have to work to get familiar with a place and, I think, a place has to work to get familiar with us.
Living somewhere means that we add our routines and idiosyncrasies to an already existing cacophony of them. Most people aren’t born being able to make harmony right away. We have to learn it and we have to learn it in the context of other people. The voices are bound not to mesh right away or even for a while. Here’s where this metaphor could be about how you change your voice to make it fit what already exists or something like that. I don’t think that’s it, actually. It’s about learning where your voice fits in the harmony that already exists and exploring how your voice adds to the harmony, makes it richer. Even once we’ve learned the lesson of this metaphor there’s still bound to be dissonance from time to time. And, sometimes, there’s no harmony to be had for you in a place. Only dissonance. That’s an important lesson to learn too. It’s one that will serve you when you move on to the next place.
Just like you don’t show up somewhere and feel comfortable right away, I don’t think a place is immediately comfortable with us either. In the case of place, though, it’s not so much about teaching the place about you, how you live, what you will add or subtract. It’s not an aggressive teaching, not necessarily a forceful appearance on our part. To me, it’s a much more passive thing. You go about settling into your life in a new place, building up your routines and traditions, trying and trying again to figure out what works for you. Ultimately, you live your life. The place will learn about you. And the people who already live in that place will learn about you too. The familiarity will grow. It just takes time.
It’s all lessons. It’s all routine. It’s all time. It’s all it’s all it’s all
It’s all that and 11 years. And I value my familiarity with this place. And I thank this place for its familiarity with me.
The barista who knows my order wasn’t there last weekend. This weekend I only worked Sunday and when I went to the coffeeshop, they were out of matcha. There is a Starbucks around the corner but my Starbucks app wouldn’t load. I finally ended up getting matcha in the ferry terminal where their point-of-sale system was down and they were only taking cash. The matcha is…not good. But I haven’t thrown it out. I keep hoping it will be.
Like I said, sometimes there’s still dissonance hiding in the harmony. I’ve learned how to rest my voice occasionally in 11 years. I’ll rest my voice today and warm up better tomorrow.
On theme.
I am continuing on with the subscription donation project. For August and September, for the organization is Vote Forward. If you are new here (welcome!) or need a refresher, you can always find more details on the project on my About page.
Paid subscribers help fund my writing life. SO, I have also decided to extend the paid subscription discount offer! Paid subscriptions are 10% off for…just another few weeks as a celebration for NYC Decade-aversary. If you want to upgrade, between now and the end of August is a great time. Or, if a one time support is more your thing, my venmo is @samjeancoop.
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