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It was only last week I was writing about my first year in El Alto. This week I write to say “hasta pronto,” a see-you-later, not to be confused with a goodbye.
It happened that suddenly, unexpectedly, like many things in El Alto. In fact, many of the memories I will be taking with me came about exactly like that, always expecting the unexpected in a neighborhood that hints at constancy.
A year of reporting in El Alto brought a complete immersion into a welcoming community and a growing neighborhood culture. From the parks, to the bodegas, to Piragua Man, and getting my hair done. To the George Washington Bridge, the sunset from Ft. Tryon, the food, the doñas, riding the A train, and the thrilling nightmare of driving on Dyckman Street, of hip-hop at Apt. 78, the Spanish-speaking Chinese food guy on West 207th Street (he’ll sell you fried rice and maduros), the Dominican cake, Guinness at the Irish bar, and the café.
I’ll miss it all.
But this year of reporting didn’t just bring half-clichéd fixtures of El Alto; it also came jam-packed with some community involvement. I became familiar and sometimes fascinated with Community Board 12, a group of tireless and dedicated group of neighborhood residents who represent us at the City government level. Curious? Confused? I urge you to join them, or at least get informed.
I stepped foot into community-based organizations that serve a number of different causes. Some help the immigrant groups in El Alto, a cause dear to my heart. Others feed the hungry, house the homeless, teach those seeking training, sometimes they just lend a hand.
And to the artists: you made each week interesting and inspiring. From those of you who make t-shirts and sell them to pay for college, to those who are masters on a canvas, or possess a fine eye behind a lens, the songwriters and musicians that play to the neighborhood’s heartbeat. The actors who took to the stage to showcase issues and find a solution, to the Art Stroll, the energy it infused us with for the summer and for leaving us wanting for more, for inspiring us to keep creating more. There were also times of frustration, anger, and sadness at the time when our community was faced with violence, the clash of the neighborhood with authority and the clear misunderstanding that sometimes appeared to be alive and well between our cultures.
I know that a bridge, one that connects and unites this neighborhood exists, a place where we can meet halfway between mangu, tacos and cheeseburgers, and shepherd’s pie. We meet between English and Spanish, a little Russian and Yiddish, to embrace the beauty of our different-colored faces. I only ask that you continue to cross the bridge.
I leave with a wealth of knowledge and look forward to learning more. Thank you for preparing me for the next step in my career. From the late nights of writing, to sitting with you for a meal, photographing the news with my camera, to writing this column where you allowed me to share my personal thoughts, you have been an invaluable audience.
I look forward to telling people who still confuse us with the Bronx about our neighborhood, the top of Manhattan, where everything is happening.
I might be leaving the pages of the Manhattan Times, but will remain in El Alto, a place that’s become home. Stay tuned, keep reading and always ask for more.
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