I have just returned to Manhattan after seven days in the Central American tropics. Yes it all conformed to everything you want from the tropics. Palm trees and white sand, crystalline aquamarine waters, azure blue skies, an incandescent sun, westerly breezes, a sense of languid torpor just four hours south of New York. Of course there were all the other less-than-picture postcard elements in the immediate vicinity: the third world economy, the marginal living conditions for so much of the populace, the litter strewn beaches away from the posher side of the shoreline... Travel - especially in economically fragile corners of the world - is always a study in parallel universes. As I noted in the Beirut postings that filled much of last week, the contrast between wealth and mendicancy is omnipresent in every major city. And leaving the Museum of Modern Art Cinematheque tonight, and passing by a guy on his knees amidst an insidious rainstorm, augmented by still wintery chill, I handed him ten dollars. And heard him say: ‘Hey man, thank you... I can eat tonight’. And that was on West 53rd Street off Fifth Avenue; one of the toniest addresses on the planet.
Posted on: Tue, 08 Apr 2014 04:47:10 +0000
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