Another great day in New York. I spent the morning recovering from yesterday's explorations, my hamstrings and feet reminding me of how much walking/longboarding I did yesterday as soon as I hopped out of bed.

I visited Jamba Juice at Penn Station for the first time, sorely missing my daily Robeks fix. Let me tell you, it's not the same or even half as tasty as Robeks.

I decided to relax a bit and brought my computer to the Starbucks to work on a bit of my practicum project and, after struggling through some InDesign work and battling some writer's block, I was able to at least knock out part of my ongoing assignment.

Finally, my feet felt rested enough to explore further. I decided to see what the Village was like and wandered through the East Village, popping in and out of vintage clothing shops and trying to wheel and deal on used bikes. Still no luck, but I understand there will be flea markets this weekend. Most of the appeal of buying a bike is just being able to bargain for it!

Dinner was half of a rotisserie chicken at Whole Foods, accompanied by a panoramic view of Union Station and the Empire State Building poking out above the trees.

Union Station was alive, buzzing with the clack of skateboards on cobblestone and the raspy crackle of PA systems. There was an open forum where people could walk up and deliver a speech. After a few speakers offering loosely relevant and shaky arguments, I headed back for home, stopping first in the subway to listen to two very talented performers, You Bred Raptors?. It was amazing what an 8 string bass guitar and a small drum kit could produce.

I've noticed a theme in New York, and I'm sure it's not exclusive to this city; I suppose it's just more visible here.

There's a stark contrast that I've been seeing while out on the street or in the subway. One minute you're watching passengers on a subway train jump to stop the doors from closing so complete strangers can get on and not miss their train. There's nothing in it for them. There's no reward, just an exercise in human compassion. I watched a mom and her son learning math on the train yesterday. She'd hold up her fingers to show him what 2 and 2 makes. This woman cares for her son and it was fun to observe.

Then there's the contrast, the heartbreaking and ultra-realistic truth that one rarely sees living in the suburbs. Walking through Penn Station today, I watched a woman scream at passersby for no apparent reason. This encounter wasn't long after walking through Penn Plaza and witnessing an elderly African American woman scribbling in a notebook, a fresh hospital wristband dragging along the paper as she wrote. And everyone here on the street has a sign, a short, dejected plea for help and assistance:

HELP! Family is homeless. No work. Every cent counts.

Out of work. Need food or a place to stay.

It would be easy to hand each of these people $20 and hope it would make a difference but, realistically, even a thousand dollars isn't going to buy these people out of their hole.

I suppose all that I can do is help when I am able, step up and do something when I need to and try to make some small difference, even if in the long run it doesn't make a difference. Until then, I'll try to concentrate on the moments of human compassion and dignity and work to help where I can.

A few things I've learned today:
1. Don't buy gold, buy bicycles and sell them in New York. It's a greater return on investment.
2. 1 in 5 New Yorkers look like they made an appearance in Goodfellas.
3. Conversations in most other languages sound like a confrontation to ears accustomed to English.