New York, New Yorker			Claudio Pinhanez

Week 1: 4th of July

4th of July in New York, the people regain the streets, and old sail ships regain the harbor. People go to the streets, early in the morning and spread through the Hudson river banks, to see the old big girls from around the world. But, even entertainment for the masses separate the haves from the have nots. Have not people elbow on the banks, while those who have board boats, ships, and cruise liners to see the tall ships closer. But people are funny, and when a liner full of haves decides to park in front of the pier with have nots, people boo, and boo, and manage to keep the tourist liner moving. Class war never ends and is found everywhere throughout the day. The tall ship show is for the TV, for the masses remotely connected, or for the haves that are anchored in the harbor. Some of the ships do not have even the dignity to go the full way through the Hudson, close to the G. Washington Bridge as described in the script of the parade: after being on TV, the celebrity vessels turn back, and ignore the have nots above the river.

But they are beautiful, the ships. They have a majesty not present any more in the current vessels, maybe just because they are not symbols of power any more. Symbols of the past, maybe even of lost empires, but gentle, beautifully obsolete. I go to the pier to see them closer, the Portuguese Sagres is there, white, sort of a bride. Another bride comes, the Japanese Kaiwo Maru, immense. How could I imagine so much improvisation during the docking? Japanese scream at the Americans, play with the cables, the shackles, the irons. Charming, the Japanese crew, with yellow hard hats, and young smiles. As part of the crew, two or three women, proudly working their small bodies to prove how much they are equal. It's a lie, they are not equal, they are sweeter, and more beautiful with their bright yellow hard hats.

Later in the evening, after some rest and some bath, I go again with the crowd, again to gain the streets. East drive is closed, and fireworks will be seen from its people-jammed lanes. New York affords three different places for fireworks, one on the East river, another one on the Hudson, the third near the Statue of Liberty. I wonder if they were concerned that if all the people concentrate in just one side, the island will tip to that side, and everyone would drown.

Reunited with the crowd, waiting for the fireworks. The policemen are tired, but after the fiasco of the Puerto-Rican parade they have to keep it cool. And the fireworks start, and for half an hour none of us talk too much. Fire on the sky, white, blue, purple, red, and the green, the greens. The sound arrives late, very late, to testify that the sparkling giant mushrooms are far away. In fact, closer to the haves. Now and then, a glimpse of the twin celebration at the Liberty Statue, behind the buildings, looks like a visual echo. Fireworks' echo, that's a New York concept.

We walk back, taking control of the streets, although bikers in Kawasakis are impatient around us. We take over three avenues, but when we arrive to Lexington Avenue, we have to wait at the traffic lights. The cars pass by as if flying, a lot faster than normal, trying to regain control of the streets. Zooming through us, claiming back their possessions. Tomorrow, as always, haves and have nots.