queens for the day

When my roommate who doesn't sit invited me to join him and a few of his friends in Flushing, Queens this past Saturday I didn’t give it a second thought. It was the first time he invited me to do anything besides go on a walk with his dog to the park. I was anxious to go explore somewhere he was familiar with, and to meet some new people. He was ready to just sit and enjoy all the ridiculously cheap food. He had just finished his self inflicted 30 day no sitting regimen. I’ve mentioned this before but let me clarify, he didn’t sit down, at all. From the moment he woke up until his head hit the pillow at night he didn’t sit. Leaning was ok, of course, if he needed to go to the bathroom that was fine. But sitting, out of the question.

It was a good thing too, because the train ride into Flushing took a good hour and 15 minutes. It would not have been fun to stand and attempt balancing during the ride. Queens lies to the northeast of Manhattan across the East River, above Brooklyn, and the only train that goes in and out of Flushing is the 7, making it a real adventure to go explore. Flushing is the second largest Chinatown outside of Asia and some say even rivals Manhattan’s Chinatown in terms of population and political significance. Specifically the area around Main Street heading west onto Roosevelt street is now thought to be the political and financial center for Chinese-speaking New Yorkers. While Chinese is the dominant and most prevalent population in the region a significant portion of the area also contains Korean, Malaysian, Sri Lankan, Indian, and Hispanic communities. The neighborhood of Flushing is one of the few popular destinations within the five boroughs that seem completely untouched by tourism and Manhattan influence. 

main street, Flushing 

dragon fruit 

We went for the food. My roommate told me it’s the best and cheapest Chinese in the city. Immediately after the long train ride we went to one of the many French influenced Asian bakeries. Flaky, chocolate drizzled croissants, mini cinnamon-sugar coated rice donut balls, breakfast quiches, blueberry baked French toast, I mean there was any type of baked good you could imagine. You grab a wooden tray and a pair of tongs, and go to town, carefully picking and choosing which ones you like, and it sets you back at the most, $2. One could easily go nuts in a place like this; restraining myself, I only got a croissant and one mini donut.

Next up in our overeating tour was the famous duck bun. Lodged into a market in the center of Main street behind piles of dragon fruit and fresh picked vegetables, roasted ducks hanging from their limbs in the window, you would never know to stop there. There's a small window with two severe looking Asian women, hair disheveled, who yell out, “You! What want?”

“1 duck bun please.”

“One dollaa. Quick please one dollaa.”

the famous duck bun 

interior of Spicy and Tasty 

People shout at you on every corner.  Buy this, taste this, come in here. On each street there are silent women and men who slyly grin and hand out pamphlets and flyers to anyone walking by. I asked what they were for, and how they expect us to understand what they mean when they’re entirely in Mandarin. “Yeah, they don’t care. And honestly they’re either invitations to sketchy bath houses, or anit-Communist or pro-Communist propaganda.”

After cold noodles, and roasted eggplant at Spicy and Tasty we ventured into the mall where there were dozens of stores, selling one of three different products: tacky shoes and women's clothing, iphone/ tablet accessories or Hello Kitty products. I'm not joking. I realized I hadn't seen even one store that sold men's clothes the entire time. My roommate's friend saw an orange and cream short sleeve patterned shirt in the window of a large discount store (it was definitely a women's t-shirt), he bought it anyway. It was $5. At least he has a good story to tell about its origin.

had to take a picture of this menu

* * *

It was interesting to spend time with my roommate outside of the park and meet a couple of his friends. I quickly learned throughout the day they were all musicians, working on different solo and collaborative projects, DJing at trendy clubs in Williamsburg each weekend. Different identities yet similar goals. In Brooklyn, I've come to the conclusion that everyone seems to merge organically with those similar around them, artists looking to collaborate. I thought back to meeting Ariele, and the cluster of artisans making things with their hands coming together in that industrial building in Bed Stuy. There's a willingness to succeed and experiment, network, learn and be inspired by those around you.

The next day I woke up and found my roommate packing up his things, sweeping up the dog fur and dust from his bedroom, putting his clothes in boxes, maneuvering around his always in the way great dane Bro. He had told me a few days prior he was going home to Indiana for a couple of weeks to work on projects and he'd be back before someone new was coming to sublet in August. I'm not sure I believe him. Later that afternoon after returning home from errands, he was gone. His room looked like a model home before someone moves in. The shelves were empty, the hangers in the closet had no clothes to keep them company. His new mattress was stripped of sheets and blankets. My other roommate joined me in his room and said, "I'm not sure he's coming back."

"Are you kidding? He said he was only gonna be gone for a little over a week. Enough time to build his tripod car thing or whatever," I responded.

"I don't know man, he was just going off on twitter last night about thanking New York for everything and that he'd miss everyone. Probably ran out of money. He'll be back. It's his responsibility to find someone to occupy the room." Shrugging his shoulders, he walked away into his room and closed the door. Soon after I did the same.