As you saunter down Scholes St. to my new residences you are certain to encounter a wide variety of different people. From young hip recent college grads, to 70 year old Hispanic women, to young children playing in the streets, to Armani clad businessmen, they all make appearances around the block roaming streets that parade low riders with window shaking bass being followed by a Ferrari, separated by a 95 Honda. This large hot mess of warehouses and trash cluttered streets goes by 2 aliases, first as reported by the hopeful youth ‘East Williamsburg’, and secondly by the more humble of its inhabitants ‘Bushwick.’ Truly it does straddle the line between the expensive and trendy Williamsburg and the worn but more useful industrial zone of Bushwick, I like to think that I live on the E. Williamsburg side, but as I wander through the area I am convinced I must be in Bushwick.
It has been a real challenge adapting to this sort of life coming first from the crystal clean air and sweeping mountains of Albuquerque to live in the bustling and crowded, yet beautiful, East Village was a transition of its own but easily justifiable due to the excitement of Manhattan. This new move from the city into Brooklyn was luckily slowly graduated by first moving to our Graham Ave apartment which is conveniently located in a neighborhood similar to the East Village. Still in touch with a slightly younger crowd and easy walking access to my favorite coffee shops I was able to adjust, and more so enjoy, the more open aired and quieter perks of life in Williamsburg. From Graham to Scholes, where I currently live, is a move farther into the previously unexplored regions of Brooklyn. Suddenly I find myself amongst real life, away from endless lines of cafes, restaurants, and stores and into warehouses, trucks, and streets that actually empty at nights. I have spent plenty of time out among the quiet street lining warehouses since joining on to the distillery which nestled into one of these remote streets, but living here is another story all together. After finally learning to sleep above booming bars and roaming sidewalk parties, the stark silence of a neighborhood that actually sleeps at night is almost eerie. My now very short walk to work on an early Sunday morning isn’t a navigation through dazed and drunken zombies who somehow are still lurching their way home, but through near deserted alleys with… birds chirping. Much to my surprise, and great joy, I found that my new local coffee shop is already open early in the morning and the owner hard at work cranking out coffee for the people who have yet another day of work in front of them in spite of it being Easter Sunday. It’s all just more practical out here in Bushwick, and frankly quite sobering.
I was at first apprehensive about liking this new and very foreign place, it was a far cry from my high altitude perch in New Mexico and it lacked the overwhelming charm of the city, but just a few nights in of wandering around the area, and some peaceful morning walks, it has already begun to reveal its hidden secrets. At night small tucked away bars host a normal amount of people, and waltzing among the concrete bunkers feels almost like getting lost in the foothills. I think that before I write off this neighborhood, it is going to take some real adventuring into what it has to offer.
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The Wandering Willey 