Category — WBXie

“We look like a bunch of hoodlums” were the first words I had directed at my Uzbekistani friend Kevin the moment we stepped through Eataly, an Italian marketplace that was known as the “heartbeat of Italy.”

I don’t know why Kevin and I decided to step into this radiant palace filled with expensive imported items packaged neatly into boxes and bottles. It might have been that we both walk past it everyday to and from school, and our curiosity one night led us to enter at our own peril.

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No doubt Eataly was a fancy place, and our plain attire didn’t help us to blend in with the rest of the folks eating and shopping. The moment we entered, I realized that we weren’t in New York City anymore. I felt as if I had just suddenly been transported to an Italian city, perhaps Roma or Venezia. Even the employees and shoppers looked ethnically Italian, and some even spoke in their native tongue. At this moment I told Kevin that we should buy a single Italian item so that we can be reminded of Italy when we leave Eataly. However, I decided to pick out an overpriced soft yogurt drink while Kevin chose to go with chocolate milk. After we had purchased these two items, we realized that we had just spent our money on two of the most generic items found almost anywhere. So much for being in Italy!

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Today is a Monday. It’s the first time I’m sitting in my Business 1000 Honors class and I’m nervous and anxious. I decide to take a seat in the second row of the lecture room, and to my great surprise my new friends decide to come and join me. After a few words were exchanged between my friends and I, the aged professor of the course decides to approach us because we were making such a loud ruckus. Attempting to join our conversation, the professor takes a moment to take in what everyone was talking about. Since it took us awhile to realize the professor was eavesdropping, we continue our conservation about what type of music we liked to listen to. Just when I was about to share my musical tastes, the professor decides to jump in at that exact moment.

“So you’re talking about music ey? What about that rapper 50 cents?”

I began to cackle at my professor’s “cultural” mistake even though my friends had more control of their actions. My professor immediately gave me a malicious look and left to start the lecture. My laughter quickly faded as I realized that I’ve gotten on the professor’s bad side. However, I still thought it was funny he said 50 cents instead of 50 Cent when mentioning the rapper. This was due to the huge gap in age and “culture” between the professor and me. I brushed off the whole incident and went along with my day, but I couldn’t help to giggle every time my friends would mention this encounter.

To the rest of the world, Richard Price is a prestigious novelist and screenwriter. To me, he’s just a humble person who will always be connected to the Lower East Side, a well-known melting pot of Jewish culture, Fujinese immigrants, yuppies and hipsters. As Price entered the Lush Life reading, he was dressed in a simple way, and didn’t make a grand entrance like I assumed he would. Instead, he was simply reading to himself, and made it extremely difficult to make him out. When he talked, it put me at ease due to his manner of speech, even though he is an extremely educated individual.

I knew I had witnesses an amazing performance after Richard Price was finished with Lush Life. As a natural storyteller, Price gave us an honest account by speaking in a colloquial way that helped the audience to capture the essence of the story. During the Question and Answer session, the most alerting fact was that Richard Price didn’t care to take notes, but instead decided to immerse himself within the story itself.

“Questa o quella.” These simple words, meaning this woman or that, truly captured the essence of the conflict found in Rigoletto. When the curtains parted and the chandeliers were drawn, I was appalled at the intricate palace that was part of the set design. Additionally, the opera singers made their appearance known through a combination of their detailed costumes and their beautifully sculpted voices.

I admit I’ve never been to an opera, and the experience at Rigoletto was a challenge for me mentally. However, I found the night at the opera to be one of the most enriching events I’ve ever attended. In Act I, the opera Rigoletto begins by introducing the promiscuous Duke of Mantua boasting about his many sexual encounters with the opposite sex. This character in Giuseppe Verdi’s opera basically ignited Monterone’s wrath. In his temper, Monterone denounces the actions of the Duke for seducing his daughter and curses the hunchback jester, Rigoletto. I found the beginning of this opera refreshingly original and interesting. Even though the opera was sung strictly in Italian, I was able to follow intently and comprehend most of the action onstage.

One surprising twist to the night at the opera is the performer, George Gagnidze, who played Rigoletto, had a cold and persisted through all of the three acts. Even though he occasionally coughed onstage, it was barely noticeable as his booming baritone voice produced a delightful melodic contrast to Gilda, played by Christine Schafer.

Rigoletto was truly an amazing experience because I had the opportunity to witness beauty in the making and to hear the professionally trained voices of the opera singers. Throughout the night, I couldn’t find a single area to complain about except for the location of our seats. All in all, it was a wonderful evening from the moment I entered The Metropolitan Opera to the instant applause roared at the curtain call of the opera singers.

This past weekend I experienced something truly different. My friend, Moishe, who had been in Israel for most of his life, decided that he wanted to come to the United States to have some fun. Of course, he decided to give me a call and asked if I were available to hang out with him for an entire day. Although I’ve never seen him in person before, I knew a lot about him since we used to be pen pals back in the day.

Before I met him, I was nervous and curious as to the day ahead. I also thought if we didn’t have things to talk about, then the exchange would be quite awkward, and he wouldn’t have a good time in New York City.

During the middle of that day, I heard a knock on my door, and immediately guessed that it had to be my good friend Moishe. I welcomed him in, and for the next two hours we just talked about our different lives, and what his goals were for the rest of his life. Before long, my worst fears had come true. We had nothing else to say to one another, so our dialogue had quickly turned into silence. At that moment, I suggested we step out so that I can show him around the Brooklyn neighborhood that we were in. As soon as were exited the front door of my house, Moishe saw two pretty Caucasian girls walking down the street. Even though he barely knew how to speak English, he courageously approached them. This was the worst idea imaginable, or so I thought. With his bad, accented English, Moishe was trying to convince the girls to come and have lunch with us. After some initial confusion, the two girls finally knew what he was trying to convey, and decided to come with us. For the remainder of the day, I got to admit I had fun with the two girls, even though I had to engage them in conversation while my friend Moishe just stared at their pretty faces.

Truth be told, I honestly didn’t think my Israeli friend with a thick accent could pull off communicating with two American girls, let alone persuading them to lunch with us. I thought that the fact he was a foreigner would surly hinder his chances. To my great surprise, the girls found his accent hysterical, and took him up on his offer. Life is pretty good with Moishe around.

“Wow” was the first word that I uttered when the performance of “Xover” began onstage. Contrary to my preconception about dance performances, I was stunned at how refreshingly original the soundtrack was. The music definitely caught my attention as dancers on stage pranced away. However, I was rather disappointed as the choreographed dance routine felt out of place. Even though the dancing was synchronized, it seemed that the dancers were in a world totally their own. The backdrop provided an enchanting mood for the whole performance; still the dancers’ body language confused me and made me question the point of the routine.

“I Can See Myself in Your Pupil,” the second act of the evening, was an excellently choreographed piece. It not only brought energy to the audience, but it was crafted and rehearsed exponentially better compared to the daft performance of “Xover.” The dancers were better synchronized, as they cooperated well with the soundtrack and brought life back to the entire Fall For Dance program. After this performance I couldn’t deny giving the dance company a standing ovation. It was just that beautiful.

However, by the time the third performance began, I started to lose hope. “Vistaar” wasn’t exactly the ideal cultural performance. Even though this third act presented a new aspect of the program, its long-winded nature destroyed any momentum the “teacher” and her “pupils” onstage had built. Furthermore, the dancer at the center of the ensemble seemed less experienced onstage, as her movements was stiff and unpolished. The dancers to the left and right of the “teacher” seemed more able to enthrall the audience, so it would have been more fitting if they were the focus of the performance.

I felt absolutely elated when the fourth and final performance was underway.  “The Golden Section” was fascinating because of the strong performance from the dancers. I don’t understand all the aspects of ballet but it was really clear that they had intense training in the field. There were moments of togetherness and precision only ballet dancers could have, even though the dance was more modern. There was a lot of chemistry and trust among the dancers, which made watching them more enjoyable than watching the previous group. I thought this ensemble of dancers was the most professional and polished out of all four.

Some significant figures throughout history are overshadowed by other individuals, although they have played their part well. Even though they contribute to our culture in a major way, the public might not directly recognize their accomplishments. These individuals are known as sidekicks. My collage will be about all the sidekicks that made a difference even though their better known counterparts overshadowed them. The sidekicks that will be included will be the ones that have affected American culture and have changed the outlook of the masses.

Some time last week, I was taking the bus home alone after a grueling workout at Baruch’s gym. I was exhausted and wished for the bus to arrive on time so I can go back to my dorm room and collapse on my bed.

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The bus just so happened to be late, and I cursed silently at the dysfunctional New York City transportation system. I boarded the crowded bus, paid my fare, and headed towards the back. At that moment, I realized that my iPod was out of batteries. This was possibly the worst thing to happen, since the chatter of the people on board and the noise they produced made my headache worse. As I looked around for an empty, comfortable seat in which to sit in, I realized that would be impossible since it was rush hour. Instead, I look towards the very back section of the bus and see six people who were conversing loudly. Two of the individuals spoke French, another two spoke Russian, and the last two spoke German.  This experience surprised me because I’ve never experienced three different languages being spoken at the same time within the same group. Additionally, these same individuals were communicating with the others in their own language, even though the other person spoke a completely different one. This amused me to a high extent, and for the rest of the bus ride I would eavesdrop on their conversations. Even though I had no idea what they were saying, it was just an amusing event that entertained me.

Looking back, I was lucky that I got to experience something that was truly rare, and I’m glad that I had the opportunity to witness a cultural encounter like this one. Since then, the only mode of transportation I take to and from Baruch is the bus.

“If you don’t take risks, you can’t do anything in life.” I have grown very accustomed to this statement. Every day when I crawl out of bed, the first words out of my parents’ mouths aren’t the usual “good morning” or the common expression “how did you sleep last night.” Instead, the early morning air is filled with miniature lectures persuading me to be more proactive and take more risks in school. My parents thought that I would benefit tremendously if I were more outgoing. However, this was a problem.

Flashback. I am four years old living in a small town located in Shenyang, China. Growing up, I had a pretty happy childhood, until I found out something was neurologically wrong with me. This all began when my grandfather noticed that I stuttered. One day, he decided to take me to the family doctor. The doctor asked my grandfather “was your grandson born with a dominant right hand or left hand?” My grandfather immediately responds “he was born with a dominant left hand, but over the years I made him switch his dominant hand to his right.” After this statement, the doctor’s immediate diagnosis was that my stuttering was the result of switching my dominant hand, eventually affecting my motor skills.

Fast-forward. I am currently a freshman attending Brooklyn Technical High School. At school, I would fear to speak with my fellow classmates, and I certainly did not participate in class. However, my life changed drastically when I was introduced to Tech’s debate team during my sophomore year. Immediately, the debate coach, Mr. Adam Stevens, began to work on my stuttering by doing numerous speaking drills and different techniques to increase the clarity of my speech. The following weekend, I signed up for a small regional debate tournament.

In no time, the debate tournament had arrived and my coach, Mr. Stevens, thought that by debating, I could minimize my stuttering. The first debate round was about to take place, so I prepared myself for the best possible outcome. However, nothing in that round had truly displayed my recently sharpened speaking abilities. I continued to stutter heavily, and gave up in the middle of the round. After I shook hands with the judge and my fellow debater, I burst out of the room in humiliation and anger, and headed towards the huge bolted door with the bright EXIT sign above it. At that moment, my parents’ voices echoed the words “If you don’t take risks, you can’t do anything in life.” I quickly turned and marched back into the next debate round, telling myself without taking a little risk I can never overcome the disease that is my stuttering.

Fast-forward. It is currently my freshman year at Baruch College, and I barely stutter thanks to Mr. Stevens and some risk taking. Life is wonderful.