No News

New York is the kind of city where you´ll find anything from alternative art to the biggest piles of trash, to underwear on the floor, to salsa music and occasional raves, to mice and squatters and leaks, to dead plants and beautiful roses, to gourmet food and soy milk gone bad, etc. (Wow. I just described my apartment for you. Minus the squatters that is). Yet try finding a newsy, interesting story to write about for your journalism class due the next day. Perhaps it´s partly my own fault for choosing the wrong beat (not for leaving homework for the very last minute).

Noho, the area NOrth of HOuston, is too residential and high-end boutique clerks’ don´t usually want to talk to third year journalism undergraduate student.

The interviewing of NoHo locals usually goes like this:

“Hi. Umm, I´m Laura Steiner. I am an NYU journalism student and I am writing a story for my class. The story will be posted in my blog. I was wondering if here is any chance I could ask you a couple questions?”

“Your name is LAUDER?!” No, my name is not Lauder and thank you for pointing that out. I was hoping you wouldn´t notice that I have a raspy voice which has an awkward loud volume. And after that speech I just gave you the only thing you´re going to ask is if my name is Lauder? Really? Then the whole conversation usually turns into a debate between the locals (excluding me) of whether my name is really Lora or Laurrrrrá for those who show-off how well they can role their r´s. This is when I decide to leave, sans story that is.

Sure, there´s news here and there, like The Bowery Poetry Club & Cafe undergoing renovations or the Noho Star, a signature restaurant in the area, finally putting away their popular ice cream cart now that winter is here. If you like poetry and ice cream, I´m deeply sorry.

My beat also includes Little Italy, which at this point should really be called—closetoextinctionusedtobeacharminglittleItalianneighborhood. Little Italy has been gentrified, so as not to say swallowed up, by Asian immigrants and is rapidly disappearing from the downtown map. Italian restaurants, which kept the area alive, are going out of business. Italian waiters, whom are in its majority evidently from New Jersey, try hard to pass as Italians to lure in more customers. But that Jersey accent is hard to hide. It´s not seenoreena! It´s signorina. And for me its principessa, please.

So restaurants are dying and Italians have moved to other parts of the city, primarily to the Bronx and Brooklyn. Big deal, you can Wikipedia that, I don´t need to write a story about it.