Dog Days

My summer employment brings simultaneous blessings and curses, it’s all very interesting:

Blessing: I’m working full-time. This yields more money than my old part-time job, and certainly more than I would have made collecting unemployment, which I would have had needed to do once that part-time job ended.

Curse: I’m working full-time. This means that I’ve made only little progress on the half dozen music projects I’ve wanted to do, and felt less like a performer than an office monkey. Also, the Boston workplace is incredibly isolating – human social contact is kept to a bare minimum – so by the afternoon I’m trying to ward off loneliness.

Curse: The job is temporary. This was rather distressing during my first few weeks here, when my energy was just sucked away by working full time while having to search for a permanent job. As a temp, they can readily get rid of you whenever they please and for whatever reason. There was the chance that they might create a part time position for me, but that was never certain, and even the length of the assignment was unclear. Moreover, working through an agency, my salary is about the same as a high school babysitter's.

Blessing: The job is temporary. Starting a new job this summer would have demanded even more concentration and attention than this gig, even with the preoccupying job search at the same time. Besides, what else but a tempo position would let me blog during the day, as I'm doing right now?

Curse: The job is in Roxbury. One of Boston’s first outlying neighborhoods and quite vibrant in its way, there is no green space anywhere near my office, only one sort-of decent lunch place, and absolutely no shops of any use or interest. Located directly across from a bus terminal, I developed a cough within a few days of working here. The neighborhood is mostly minority, so heads turn when a white lady gets off the bus and many beggars step up their pleas when they see me.

Blessing: The job is in Roxbury. Because Boston is so segregated, it’s actually nice to see the lives of other citizens in another neighborhood. And you can’t say the locals aren’t friendly. When I have ventured out, I’m usually greeted by the numerous men hanging around the streets, some of whom have called out: “You’ve got a great smile!” “Bring those beautiful legs back here right now!” “You’re beautiful! If no one told you you’re beautiful today, then I’ll tell you!” I don't find this threatening at all. After a day in solitary office confinement, this is music to my ears. The cashier at the decent lunch place (Hector) is a character, and chats with me every time I come in. He even gave me a free slice of white bean pie, promising I would love it. (The maple whipped cream it came with was delicious; the pie itself was sweeter than white beans were ever meant to be.)

I’m trying to get what I can out of this place before I leave (in 6 working days!!!). There are some interesting sights (photos below), and even a couple of promising nooks. A new Dominican lunch counter opened up, and I think I’ll check it out some time when I want to fall into afternoon food coma. Local charm is surprisingly hard to find in Boston, especially ethnic, and I’ve actually hoped to find another Dominican joint since I first knew one near my first workplace in New York a bunch of years ago. What better way to cool off than a bucket of oxtail stew, and piles of rice, beans, and pico de gallo? And even better, a batido de papaya or morir soñando, a sweet drink of orange syrup and milk that is so good it earned its name: to die dreaming.

And occasionally I stop in the Tropical Foods "El Cabanero" down the road, where I barely buy anything but just gaze at the other world of immigrant food. Who knew that there were so many different kinds of grain out there, and all with beautiful names: gari, cassava, iyan, moin moin, banku, alubo, egusi, and alligator peppers. Once I bought some delicious chili powder, and mango nectar. I decided to skip the weirdo dried fish section, and the copious collection of tinned ham, of all things, and what would a gringa ever be able to do with these piles of unknown roots and tubers?

Ham in a can is nothing short of a Treet.

What if you could smell this picture?

The aisle is three times the size of this shot.

You can see the skyline from a garden near my office.....

... but alas, it's under lock and key.

I imagine this beautiful corner building (now abandoned) was a busy department store before Roxbury fell into decline.

Yup, the sign's correct, tuxedos for hire, $2.00 and up!