New York is not Barcelona

First, the noise of the subway. When you're a tourist, you tolerate it, you even find it amusing, that metallic roar that reminds you of thousands of movies and invites you to think about the wonders of the next station. When you're not a tourist, but a resident, even if only for a few weeks, what sticks in your head most is that screech you have to put up with if you want to get around quickly and, obviously, at a good price, in a city that you don't just not finish, but never even start. By the tenth day, you start to miss the silent smoothness of the Ferrocarrils de la Generalitat de Catalunya, and even the mute that the rest of the colored lines try to put on. Here we don't have the lavish mix of tribes in the New York subway cars, urban tribes that all seem to be endangered, because each individual is a tribe in itself. Here everyone looks too much alike, and that's partly why we like to leave. Maybe it's my age, but I find that, looking at the people here, you already know more or less what street they live on, where they're going, and even what they vote for. Our subway is silent and noucentista, but also claustrophobic. Like the city, like the country.

Two or three weeks in New York allow you to share that same feeling: you already know almost all the corners, or at least yours. The same corner that left you stunned the first time no longer impresses you, you already know how to identify the places you can make more your own, not of the city, but yours, because it's been a while since the first kiss and now we are contemplating each other's sleepy morning faces or the bad habits of daily life. Glamour becomes more real when you can accredit it through a real daily life and, then, if the fascination remains despite everything, that's when infatuation transforms into love. Which does not mean that I consider it presentable that, in New York, there are also no cafes (the establishments, the lounges, the silent coffee shops) that I also long for in Barcelona. No, there aren't any. All establishments at street level present a general Starbucks-like appearance that is frightening; if you want something more or less quiet or sophisticated, you have to look for it online or through references. The service, the street-level dining in New York, is rather vulgar and cold. Shame on you, but luckily we know where to drop in. Where you can order a coffee and, besides not having to squeeze into a miserable table with frigid colors and too close to the next one, they don't bring you a watery soup in a fairground cup. No trace of good taste at street level. Good taste you have to seek out and pay for.

They do, however, maintain the most wonderful venues for listening to jazz and the most unexpected walks from the port to decompress the after hours. They maintain the constant and real sensation of being the center of the world, not so much for the power as for the sense of urban beauty and cultural dynamism. In these two things, they don't waste time. Unfortunately, you still have the screech of the subway in your bones, but they are forgiven with the surprising fireflies at dusk in Central Park, with the multiplicities of Broadway that change skin from one end of the peninsula to the other, or with the false modesty of the little houses in Brooklyn. By the way, pacified zones are zones where peace does not bother or clash. This is the difference with Consell de Cent: peace is not imposed, but must flow and connect with the rest of the city's traffic if it truly wants to be peace. It's just a matter of working a little. Right now, I still don't know why someone chose Consell de Cent and not Diputació. And I'm afraid there is absolutely no reason, except that the idea had to be executed no matter what. Well, there you have it. No one would have ever thought of pacifying Fifth Avenue, which is not even close to being the busiest. Why not? Because no. Because the pulse, the heartbeat of the city does not digest it well.

They maintain the constant and real sensation of being the center of the world, not so much for the power as for the sense of urban beauty and cultural dynamism