NYC and the strike
When one first heard about the possibility of a strike by the MTA workers, one was incredulous: do these things really happen in America? One heard of strikes in Russia or China or India, but here in America, that too in New York!! On second thoughts, it's not hard to see why not: despite the glitz & glamor of the American life, it is a harsh one. To my mind, America is a hugely 'masculine' country, borrowing Geert Hofstede's term, and New York might top the rankings!! I often wonder while walking down the streets of New York whether it is the size of the city that makes its people, its systems a little harder every day. Hotel staff do not feel it necessary to greet their clients courteously, or to settle them comfortably in their rooms; people plant themselves in the middle of sidewalks, chatting blissfully about this and that, their dogs staking a claim to even more of the space, stretching their leashes to check out the smells around the tree at the edge; and so what do other passers-by do? Well, they squeeze their way around this merry group, & move on as best they can. It is New York-ish to be unmindful of others in a public place, it is New York-ish to do exactly what you want to do & how you want to do it, the rest of the swirl of humanity will take care of themselves. ( A little side note: how do you distinguish a New Yorker from anyone else: well, if they make way for you on crowded subway stairs, or on a narrow street, 9 out of 10 times they are a not New Yorkers! A couple of bewildering hard knocks, and they'll gradually start to develop the mannerisms & behavior of a local!
And therefore it comes as no surprise to see the acrid & cacophonous exchanges between the union leader & the mayor on public television. Between strident accusations thrown at each other, with the already-suffering public caught in the middle: the union leader reminds us, the viewers, of how they are a hard-working simple folk working relentlessly in the service of the city; & the mayor wants to make sure you, the viewer knows that he walks across the Brooklyn Bridge to work every day, and the news network provides you a glimpse of his sleeping place at his emergency office: a pillow thrown on a carpeted floor.
And so the media war plays on, in true New York-style: grim looks, harsher speeches!
I personally am not affected too much by the strike, but on the first day of the strike, I walked through the East Village on my way to NYU. The downed shutters of store after store on that normally very-alive street were a total surprise. The immediate parallel my mind drew was to the times when Hindu-Muslim riots broke out in my city of Ahmedabad; the eerie calm in the normally throbbing, pulsating markets was jolting, more so because the fear of more violence was very real. The NY experience was more like watching a city, or a part of it, napping, taking a much needed breather. It seemed to me like the city that never sleeps was finally putting its feet up, snatching some rest, however fitful.
It was also interesting to see people waving down already occupied cabs, to see if their paths & destinations crossed enough to share the car with a couple of perfect strangers. The traffic on most streets was thinner, but it was a glorious day: chilly but sunny, and I enjoyed my stroll along Fifth Avenue, as did dozens of others who were leisurely moving about. I love that about New York, there is always, but always, people-movement on the streets.
And therefore it comes as no surprise to see the acrid & cacophonous exchanges between the union leader & the mayor on public television. Between strident accusations thrown at each other, with the already-suffering public caught in the middle: the union leader reminds us, the viewers, of how they are a hard-working simple folk working relentlessly in the service of the city; & the mayor wants to make sure you, the viewer knows that he walks across the Brooklyn Bridge to work every day, and the news network provides you a glimpse of his sleeping place at his emergency office: a pillow thrown on a carpeted floor.
And so the media war plays on, in true New York-style: grim looks, harsher speeches!
I personally am not affected too much by the strike, but on the first day of the strike, I walked through the East Village on my way to NYU. The downed shutters of store after store on that normally very-alive street were a total surprise. The immediate parallel my mind drew was to the times when Hindu-Muslim riots broke out in my city of Ahmedabad; the eerie calm in the normally throbbing, pulsating markets was jolting, more so because the fear of more violence was very real. The NY experience was more like watching a city, or a part of it, napping, taking a much needed breather. It seemed to me like the city that never sleeps was finally putting its feet up, snatching some rest, however fitful.
It was also interesting to see people waving down already occupied cabs, to see if their paths & destinations crossed enough to share the car with a couple of perfect strangers. The traffic on most streets was thinner, but it was a glorious day: chilly but sunny, and I enjoyed my stroll along Fifth Avenue, as did dozens of others who were leisurely moving about. I love that about New York, there is always, but always, people-movement on the streets.
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