“New York City is dead forever”, that is title declare. But the truth is, even as the coronavirus pulled the emergency brake and forced the city to shut down, New York soon returned to a state of immobility.
Now, millions of residents are entering their third pandemic summer, and sidewalks are packed, happy hours are on and tourists are back.
So how does the city feel now? What vibe?
A five-day, five-day vibe test found that New Yorkers described high concerns around normalcy, safety, security, finances, and mental health — but also expressed unwavering optimism.
The city has always been defined by the people who live here: It is a magnet for dreamers, a paradise for hustlers, a perpetual motion machine in which the engine is driven by human aspirations. A week in barbershops and baklava, in sunny cafes and shady parks shows that the city still has a lot of life.
On a sweltering Monday afternoon in mid-June, at the intersection of East 149th Street and 3rd Avenue, the Bronx was humming. The sidewalk is noisy with crowds. Street vendors sell sliced mangoes, jewelry, hats and toys. Cars were backed up to obstruct along the boulevard, honking their horns as the hoods glinted in the heat.
A few blocks north of the commotion, Yolanda Hopson sat serenely in her shaded crouch, the shadows of her eyes glittering with silver. She said “a nice day” took her out. For her, however, now the city feels rushed.
“It feels like people are trying to rush and do everything they can to ‘just take precautions’,” Ms Hopson said. “People are now living on ‘precaution’.”
Friends and family call Ms. Hopson “Mayor of Melrose,” because she knows everything that goes on in her neighborhood. She will turn 56 in July, catch Covid in December and remain cautious. “I wear two masks. I just don’t think it’s over.” Then she laughed: “You’re still alive. Do you like.”
Down the street, at Chobby Flow barbershop, the owner, Robin “Chobby” Tejada Rodriquez, 31, says business has been sluggish since the pandemic.
He’s owned the shop for eight years, and the customers who used to come in for a weekly haircut don’t come as often – or have stopped coming altogether. “People don’t have money,” he said.
Businesses in the area that used to open late are now closing early, he said. “Robbery and crime – it’s crazy now,” he said. And recently, when people sat in his chair, they said about their problems: “Their mental health, it’s not good.”
Not far away, a handful of men sat on the edge of the handball field in St. Mary’s in the South Bronx. Grandmaster Flash’s voice raps “The Message” from a portable speaker. (“Sometimes it feels like a forest; it makes me wonder how I couldn’t keep going under.”)
Steven Montalvo, 23, said: “It is more normal than what happened when the pandemic first started. He lives next to the park and explains that when the virus hit, the area was “really very, very dirty. A group of people are sleeping in the park. There are needles everywhere. “
Now, “It’s cleaner,” he said, but he added: “Crime is the same.” He pointed to the west, beyond the chain link fence, and mentioned a rape had taken place”at 8 am on the other side of the park. ” He continued, “I think yesterday, or the day before, they fired on that side. You know, regular city crime. “
City of Manhattan
‘We are passing with smiles.’
It seems like an optimistic move not only to start a new business but to open up now, as the city recovers. Tuesday afternoon in Manhattan’s Chinatown, Spencer Okada and Khanh Tran stood in front of the large window of their new Doyers Street store, ArtBean Coffee Roasters, as the breeze blew.
The couple, who opened the store in May, got married a week before everything closed in 2020. “We basically spent our honeymoon in a small apartment in New York,” says Tran. , who came to the city from Vietnam said. They made that time work: “This company was born during lockdown – because we wanted to make something.” They roast their own coffee, collaborate with artists and hang pictures in the shop.
Okada, who grew up in Reno, Nev., dismissed time: “You can’t time anything. This is just our moment right now to do it, and like, we just have to do our best. “
About nine miles north, in Harlem, another newly opened business is welcoming guests. Lightly fragrant NYC Zaza Exotics, owned by Antar Alziadi — better known as the Yemeni rapper Chee$e — has only been open for two days, but customers are already checking it out, he said. “I have a lot of followers on Instagram. They come from all districts. “
Mr. Alziadi sells snacks from other countries: Skittles from Japan; Cream soda from Canada; and rare, exotic limited editions like Flaming Hot Mountain Dew. KitKats in Asia will get you $20 or $30 here; french fries, $15; soda, $10.
Despite the extremely fragrant aroma inside the store, Mr Alziadi says it doesn’t sell weed. He’s “in the process” of trying to get a license for that. Until then, Mr. Alziadi remains optimistic about the prospects of a fast-food outlet with international roots: “Everybody has their own luck. Your luck is your luck, no matter what you are selling.”
Just a few blocks away, at Rucker Park, giant speakers vibrate to the beat of hip-hop for a moment. street ball game. The man known as Ricky Superstar beams as he skates and spins basketball.
“We’re passing with a smile,” he said, just like Basketball beauty prepare to attack the court. “The smiles are getting more and more, and better, because the pandemic has subsided.”
His name is Ricardo Verona; he was born “around the corner of Apollo”; he has been coming to Rucker Park since the 1970s; he swims four times a week; and he turns 62 in September. “I feel full of energy right now,” he said. “People feel like, ‘yay!’”
On Wednesday on Steinway Street in Astoria, Faieq Alnabulsi, owner of Al-Sham Sweets & Pastries, was selling baklava and biscuits for the pound. But business has been inconsistent.
“Last year was better than this year,” Mr. Alnabulsi said. “People are more careful now” with their spending, he said.
The store has been open for 12 years. Mr. Alnabulsi, 53 years old and originally from Jordan, recently raised prices as the cost of raw materials and supplies – boxes, bags – increased. He said he wasn’t charging much because it was paying him, which hurt his bottom line.
“But do not worry. What will you do?”
On 35th Street and Astoria Avenue, 19-year-old Tasnim Shawkat was walking home to East Elmhurst after a doctor’s appointment in Astoria, which took about an hour. “Going home is a long walk, but it’s great,” she speaks. However, walking at night is a different story. “I don’t know if it’s because that’s what I’ve heard, but I definitely feel less secure,” she said.
On a side street in Flushing, down the stairs, flashing lights and colorful, colorful stuffed animals from Anime Claw beckoned fans of Asian animation and video games. Vivian Hsieh, 25, who works at the store and loves “anything soft”, says people come just to take pictures with the decorative wall.
Despite the cheerful interior, Michael Shao, 29, who runs the store, says there’s been a “security issue” in the neighborhood recently. “Theft, petty theft, that sort of thing.” He said he could also say that some customers were feeling the pressure financially, but the store provided entertainment and entertainment: “We make people smile.”
Brooklyn
“Things are slowly returning to normal.”
When P-Funk and The Temptations blared from the speakers on Thursday afternoon, a large number of customers gathered inside. Royal Rib House on Malcolm X Avenue in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood of Brooklyn, order fried chicken, mac and cheese and of course ribs.
Jason Barnett, 45, who now runs the restaurant his parents passed the torch to, has lived in Bed-Stuy for more than 25 years. “Every day, I see more and more people coming in,” he said. “People are happy to be out and things are slowly getting back to normal.”
Cree Flournoy, 31, who started visiting the Royal Rib House as a child, was picking up food for her mother: “She had one rib, and another with collard greens,” she said. Ms. Flournoy called the city’s mood “full of hope”. “I think we’re all just trying to get back to life and do all the things we used to do and go to the places we’ve been – and enjoyed.. “
Across the county in Bushwick, Luzclarita Velez, 25, and Marcella Jordan, 21, played tug of war with their dog, Biscuit, during a dog run in Maria Hernandez Park. Ms. Velez said the city seemed “quiet”, but it made her think about all the possibilities. Maybe she’ll transition from studying criminal justice to becoming an emergency medical technician. Maybe she’ll go to Puerto Rico, and Disney World. “Like, you only have one life,” she said. Immediately and more locally, she wanted to go to a rooftop restaurant. “I’ve lived here all my life,” she said, but there were so many things she had never done. “I want to explore more of the city.”
Staten Island
‘They’re ready to get out and live their lives.’
On the Staten Island Ferry on Friday, crowds swarmed to starboard, snapping selfies as the boat passed the Statue of Liberty, towering against the deep blue sky.
In the neighborhood of St. George, Kesiah Kelly sits outside Sherri’s Kitchen, a soul food restaurant on Bay Street. “I’m actually from Brooklyn,” she says, and laughs as she describes how her neighborhood, Brooklyn Junction, has returned to normal: “Normal, back to the slums, back to the controversy, the car dollar truck – it’s like nothing happened. But just, you see people wearing masks. “
Kelley’s wife, Shanee Lewis, 34, now runs Sherri’s Kitchen. Lewis’s mother, Scherisce Lewis Clinton, who founded the restaurant, died earlier this year. She is known for giving out free meals to those in need. Ms. Lewis is keeping her mother’s recipes and spirit alive: “We feed the homeless. I keep up with that.”
She is ready to fry some fish. Beautiful, fragrant red velvet cakes sitting on the fire waiting for the dew. But prices will have to change, she said. “Let me tell you. Oxtails? For $200, You are receiving a small bag. It used to be $100 for two large bags. “
Down the street upstairs of Empire Outlets, the frosé machine is churning behind the bar at the Clinton Hall beer garden. A little girl throws a beanbag as the bees lazily buzz around the beehives in the garden behind the roof.
The general manager, Jason Breska, says people are really eager to get out again: “Last year was like baby steps.” Mr. Breska, when asked his age, replied “old enough”, went to work from Brooklyn and noticed the difference: “Staten Islanders, they’re a different breed. They are ready to get out and live their lives. And for him personally, “I think the pandemic has really taught me gratitude – the appreciation of being with others and being outside.”
