HOME | POLITICS | SPORTS | LIFE | SCI/TECH | OPEDS | HELPFUL TIPS
|
Apr. 30, 2005 I camped out for about 8 months in New York City, upon my return from Europe and Egypt. I arrived with a fair amount of money, but I wanted to stretch it as far as possible, not knowing whether and when I would see any more, so my obvious choice was to avoid paying rent. I arrived in New York in June of 1991 and I stayed till February of 1992. I had lived there previously, for three and a half years, so I knew my way around town. I had done so much illegal camping by the time of my arrival in the big city that I had it down to a science. This was how I did it. I had a good mountain bicycle with a rack in the back, and on the rack I carried a bag about two feet long. In the bag I had a sleeping bag with a plastic tarpaulin, as well as toiletries and clothes. The clothes included body shirts, with biking shorts in the summer and biking tights in the winter, which are not only convenient for cycling, but also roll up to make a very small bundle. Thus I could carry five or six changes of clothes along with my other stuff, and still have a manageable bag that I could sling over my shoulder. I hate backpacks, especially those with aluminum frames, as I don’t want to advertise to everyone that I am camping out. My appearance was not quite as obvious and obtrusive. I generally slept in Central Park, in a secluded playground, where I never arrived till after dark. During the summer months, it rains about every third night in New York, but I was able to keep bone-dry with the plastic tarpaulin if I got up on a raised place where the water would run off instead of flowing back under the tarpaulin. Once it got cold, the rains stopped, and snow is not half as problematic as rain. I’d merely roll up inside the sleeping bag and the tarpaulin to shield myself from the wind, and in the morning I’d shake off the snow and roll the bag and the tarpaulin up. I didn’t really have much trouble with people wandering around the park at night, as a couple of people, making sexual overtures, took ‘no’ for an answer, without attempting to force themselves on me. For $10, I bought an annual pass to the public swimming pool at 23rd Street, east of First Avenue, which was equipped with showers. Sleeping at around 66th and Fifth Avenue, then, I had a three-mile ride each morning to take a shower. I would rise just at daybreak. Fortunately, New York City police are very lax about enforcing statutes prohibiting camping, so that one needn’t be overly cautious about being spotted. By the time I gathered up my belongings and cleaned and combed myself at least minimally, with a bottle of water, that I kept in the sleeping bag with me, a half hour would have passed. In the winter, my hands, despite mittens, would already be starting to be a little numb. And by the time I cycled to the swimming pool, they’d be so hard I could barely manage to lock the bike to the rack outside. Inside, in the hot shower, I’d thaw out and my chattering teeth would register firmly on each other. Then I’d put on a fresh set of clothes, rolling up the dirties neatly in a little plastic bag, so that by the time I appeared on the street, I’d be as fresh and clean-looking as if I had stayed in a hotel room. After eating, usually at a fast-food chain like McDonalds, I’d head to the Mid-Manhattan Public Library at 40th Street and Fifth Avenue. At this particular time, I was studying Chinese intensely, not yet knowing how and when I’d get to China, but I also allowed about three hours a day to keep up on my Russian and Arabic. Generally, I would not eat again till evening. In New York, there are several buildings that maintain their lobbies as public parks. There was one called Harkness Center at around 60th and Broadway, not far from Lincoln Center. It had chairs and tables, and was not overly crowded. Cycling up that way, when the library closed, around 8:30, I’d first stop at a delicatessen near Columbus Circle that sold cooked food by the pound—lasagna, meat loaf, chicken, stuffed peppers, etc. I’d buy a box and take it with me to Harkness Center. There, over supper, I’d continue my studies till 11 or 12, then cycle to my lodge in the park. So food coast me about $50 a week. Two trips to the laundromat cost no more than $10 a week. Tubes and tires for the bicycle averaged no more than $10 a week. Toiletries came to no more than $10 a week. So I lived for $80 a week for most of the eight months. New Yorkers are a rude lot of people, even if you are an ultra-conformist, but it gets worse if you are somewhat different from the Madison Avenue stereotype. The average New Yorker doesn’t comprehend that you may know more than he and have been more places and done more things. He merely sees that you have a different appearance, and concludes you are an idiot. So I had to put up with some abuse, and I knew I would have to do so even before I arrived, so I took it in my stride, but it gets irritating after a while. Still I would have stayed. But I had bought a brand new mountain bike for around $500, as well as two U-locks and a cable, supposing innocently that no one could possibly steal it. The U-locks may as well have been Scotch tape. You don’t stop New Yorkers with U-locks. So I bought another bike, almost as expensive, with a chain with links made of rod as big as my thumb. This was stolen too. So I realized I wouldn’t be able to remain in New York, living in this life style. Anyway it was cold in mid-Febraury of 1992, so I bought a bus ticket for Miami, Florida, and went. ------------ About the author Thomas Keyes: I have written two books: A SOJOURN IN ASIA (non-fiction) and A TALE OF UNG (fiction), neither published so far. I have studied languages for years and traveled extensively on five continents. Email: udikeyes@yahoo.com Comment on this article here! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com and are not allowed to be posted on other websites. ARTICLE THIEVES WILL BE PROSECUTED! |
||||||
|
|
|||||||
|
