Hello Weather Let's Play Together

As soon as they find out I’m from California, New Yorkers say things like, “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh. How are you dealing with the weather?” And they always say it in this heavy you-must-be-so-depressed-let-me-be-very-gentle-with-you voice, as if I’m going to break down and start crying any minute. As previously mentioned (and sure to be written about ad nauseum), the weather is really the least of my challenges coming to terms with NYC.

But then comes the snow. Alright, so what does little old Californian me know about snow? Since I started my life in Alaska, my only perception of snowy climates is that of the great north. Moving to NYC, I expected we’d have snow on the ground for several months and lots of really gray, really cold days. So this winter, which is supposedly one of the worst in recent years, has hit me as an amazingly pleasant surprise. Sure, we’ve had a few snow storms, but in comparison to my expectations, they’ve been mild!

And then, NYC shut down. Schools closed, trains and buses stopped running. And I was house-bound. With children.

Really – need I say more?

We don’t actually live on Manhattan; we’re in one of the outer Boroughs (Astoria, Queens, to be exact), but are very close in and very close to a subway line. Out here, though, the “subway” is actually an elevated train. Until the snow hit, it didn’t occur to me to consider the logistical challenges this might pose. I actually quite like riding the train above the buildings, seeing all the cool graffiti, and then plunging down into the tunnel to go under the river and into Manhattan. There is this almost-fairy-tale aspect to it – crossing a barrier and entering another world. I emerge from underground on the most densely populated island in the world and my life across the river is a distant memory when I’m in the City.

The last big storm was just two weeks ago and we got a whopping 12 inches. Down on the streets, the plows come and shove all the snow off to the sides, burying cars in the process. Then the people come out and they dig out their cars, shoveling 10 ft. mountains of snow in front of the fire hydrants and around the trees. Street corners become virtually impassible caverns of melted and re-frozen slush to be slogged through and I have discovered the sensation of walking on the beach when trying to get to my front door.

And when the streets are buried in snow, imagine what the two-story-high train tracks look like. I have no idea what they do to actually clear the snow off the tracks, or how they do it without injuring anything below, but it is not a rapid process, let me tell you. So when it snows a lot here and we have a snow day (rare though they may be), we are really and truly struck.

And I pay homage to Nintendo and the makers of Wii. Thank you lords for developing something that keeps my boys engaged and active for literally hours at a time. When you live somewhere that isn’t really equipped to handle lots of snow and you end up with a “snow day,” well, it’s really not all that it’s cracked up to be.

Funny enough, we’re actually moving into Spring and the chances of more snow are extremely slim. Ah, but here’s the rub – RAIN. As I write this, there is thunder, lightening and huge drops outside. Now you can use the you-must-be-so-depressed voice on me.

The Time Difference

I’ve been thinking a lot about the difference between New York and Los Angeles in terms of simple things like getting from one place to another. Of course there’s the obvious difference between driving and riding the subway; but it’s not just that – it’s the issue of figuring out your planning. In LA it’s all about time.

For example, when someone asks you, “How far is it to Disneyland from here,” the answer is always given as a unit of time: “Oh, about an hour.”

I’ve discovered that people who are not from Los Angeles give me a funny look whenever I answer a question this way.

“But how FAR is it?”

As if I know.

In Los Angeles, the actual distance between two points is completely irrelevant information. I used to live 7 miles from my office, door-to-door. If I could travel between the two points in less than 45 minutes, it was a banner day.

The reality is that most people don’t care how far away something is; they really just need to know how long it will take them to get someplace. Generally so they can figure out what else they can accomplish in that day (the answer being, not much, when you live in LA). In Los Angeles there is a general rule of thumb: It takes an hour to get anywhere. The corollary to this rule is that being late is a way of life. There’s nothing you can do about the traffic and being late is not only acceptable, but expected and not even worthy of comment.

Now that I’m in New York City, I have another option: public transportation. And I say, Thank God for the MTA! I love that I can get anywhere with such ease, and I love that I don’t have to be the one making it happen. I can read, I can play games, I can sleep – and I STILL get where I’m going! (And for my Angeleno readers, I don’t have to drive the 405, so nyeah, nyeah, nyeah!)

But here’s the rub: with the vast availability of transportation options, if you are planning to be somewhere at a certain time, you damn well better be there. Being able to create a viable schedule and keep to it is a skill that I’ve brought with me from LA to NYC. Or at least I thought so.

After six months here, I’ve come to realize that I am woefully ill-equipped to deal with time commitments. I’d become inept at figuring out how much time it takes me to do something because I never really had to be somewhere when I promised I would. Now, if I don’t walk out the door by a certain time, my whole morning is shot – we miss the bus to school and the drop-off period, I miss my train and have to catch a later one, I get a later start on my day, I stay late at the office and I wind up missing dinner, and often the kids’ bed-time.

So I’m finally learning how to truly tell time. That’s right peeps – when someone asks you about distance, a unit of time does not answer the question! I’ve gotten the morning down to a science now, segmented into short time slots with doable tasks assigned to each, and we haven’t missed the bus in over a month. Now I’m working on getting my timing down for the rest of the day so that I stop missing evening activities as well. I finally understand why New Yorkers eat dinner so late…

Thanks for sending me the watch, Mom!

Cultural Revelations from "Far East LA"

I'm a West Coaster. Unconditionally.

I was born in Alaska, grew up in Northern California, went to school in Oregon and spent the last twelve years in Los Angeles. Hell, I even stayed on the West Coast of South America when I spent a semester there back in college. I've barely even visited the East Coast, much less considered living outside of the Western half of the country.

But after limping through 2008 and taking stock of our lives, in August of 2009 my husband and I made the enormous decision to pack up our kids and everything we own and move to New York City.

Just ponder that for a moment. It seems simple on the surface. LA to NY; big city to big city; entertainment, fashion and commercial centers of these United States.

After six months in the City, I can tell you with absolute certainty that there is no comparison.

Join me here as I ruminate on the differences between East and West and expound on the world of digital media.