The day started in a hot steamy room and ended with a wild ziggurat of plantain, garlic and pork belly stuffed with garlicky shrimp.
I finally started my three month unlimited gift certificate to Bikram yoga. I think it is important to mention that I decided to do this on the hottest day of the summer so far. I went through all the stages one might expect when doing yoga in a steamy room kept at 105 degrees Fahrenheit. First excitement, then elation, then a resounding this is bullshit, then i am a fat weakling, then maybe there is something to this, then why won't the instructor let me touch my water, to this is awesome, to wow, I cannot wait to do this again.
I had just enough time to run home (sweating), shower again and join a journalist friend on a trip to Sonia Sotomayor's old stomping grounds. Walking around the Bronxdale projects where she grew up was fascinating. One couldn't help to think, "OK, this isn't that bad." But then one must consider the late '70's and '80's when most of New York City was a bit of a dump. The surrounding area is a bit run down, but I was amazed at the incredibly high tech, modern playground jungle gyms that were scattered throughout the area. The Bronxdale Community Center has a large indoor basketball court and a jungle gym that boasts of a sort of Mobius strip ladder AND a climbing wall.
After a little tour around the neighborhood, we stopped in at Joe's Place where we met with Joe himself. He seemed a bit standoffish at first, but soon warmed up and was buying us Mojitos and Margaritas and telling us about the neighborhood back in the day. After a while we sat down for dinner which is when I decided to try mofongo. It is here that I should warn you that mofongo is not a light snack by any means. It is fried plantains that are then mashed with garlic and pork fat and then shaped into an impossible sort of brick. No, it doesn't sound appetizing, but with a red sauce and garlic shrimp it somehow works.
Riding back home on the train with 3/4 of a starch tower, mildly intoxicated from the Mojito and exhausted from the morning yogics, I thought a lot about what it would be like to live in the Bronx in the '70's. Even worse, what it would be like growing up in the Bronx during the crack years, hoping and working hard to get out of that environment. It made me wonder once again if our generation is just too soft. I don't know anyone from a troubled or turbulent background. I don't know anyone who had to strive to get past racial and gender barriers
Myself included. The toughest part of my day was doing a sweaty yoga class without passing out. Joe of Joe's Place spoke of how things were better for his kids; my generation. But is it really better? In the name of progress, we get a bit lazy, and this does worry me a bit.
