Back to the streets of New York

Last night I came back to New York a week later than expected. In fact I wished for an extra week back home in London. How was I to know that time would come in the form of Hurricane Sandy.

An extra week meant seeing more friends, eating more fish and chips and getting my British Citizenship.

Even with this blessed week, my eyes were on my new home. New York. I stayed up late in the night, eyes glued to the news. Waters flowing into subways, friends without power, some still without homes. It's a mess.

Flying in I strain to see past people to the window. Was that water there before? Was that supposed to be a river? I can't tell.

At the airport, the immigration queues are long as are the ones for the taxis but even that doesn't seem too extraordinary. I half expect to be walking home from JFK, or at least half way. I'm glad that never comes to pass.

I enter my house expecting dripping water and broken windows. But it's all as I left it, dirty laundry and all. Half nervous about long travel times, unsure of what to expect, I work from home today, eating my cupboard bare of pasta. Stuck in my little cocoon of house and Internet and the troubles of Downton Abbey.

Tonight, however, I take a ride in. The streets of Manhattan are only half filled, Union Square blocked off and I don't need to even queue for my coffee at The Bean (which is usual heaves to bursting). We go to Cloud Atlas and less than 40 people are there. The ticket taker thanks me for coming. I've never had that before.

My friend and I talk about work and life, boys and the future. We don't talk about receding waters, food shortages and people who won't have homes for 8 months.

My house was 3 blocks from flood waters. An oasis in the centre of evacuation zones. I'm so very very lucky. Tomorrow I will go to a shelter to see what they need and the weekend I'll help clean up whatever is left to clean.

There is a comradary amongst strangers but it'll begin to ebb as they slip back into their routine. Lights on and subways running. People are heading back to half empty bars and cinemas and coffee shops. They'll donate their $10 and go to some Hurricane Sandy charity event where they'll pay extra for over priced meat as they gossip over cocktails. All in the name of those still in the wreckage. People who need hands and smiles and a someone who will understand when they scream "why me?"

Not that I'm not guilty. It's easy to slip back into your cocoon. It's warm. It's lovely. It makes the world feel normal again.

But it's not.

(PS if you want to help check out here: http://interoccupy.net/occupysandy/ or here for LES: http://interoccupy.net/occupysandy/volunteer-update-11-5/)