things are not what it seems.

I woke up with pancakes for breakfast. Then took the green line downtown, which goes above ground until it reaches Manhattan. I took some pictures of my hood The Bronx, yo yo! Got off the train at a random place, where I saw a smaller version of Statue of Liberty. Turned out to be the Yankee Stadium. Saw some baseball players and walked around the area. Met a lady named Anna, who was Puerto Rican and very catholic. But she was very nice and normal and a super-good antidote to my fear for hispanics. If you strip away that she was catholic and this and that, she could have been anything, Chineese, Swedish, African, whatever. And that is true with a lot of people here. Prejudement is something I battle with everyday, and am mostly proven wrong. The people with dirty cloths might be millionairs, the black young guy might listen to country music, and far from all hispanics are conmen. That's why I love to speak with people here, because they are always much nicer than what I expect when I start talking to them. It's my favourite thing about New York.
I also like Central Park a lot, so I went there again, to take hundreds of photos. Went to Strawberry Feilds, listened to a band play Beatles songs, and was once again let down by how small everything is in reality compared to what you think it is, just because it's famous. The John Lennon "Imagine" mosaic was not big at all. But the place had a good atmosphere and all kinds of people showed their respect to their hero by leaving flowers and posing with signs saying "salut, brother".
I was very tired today. Have been walking and walking and walking, staying up late, and working 24/7 for quite some time now, but I wanted to go to the UN building, so I took a lazy train down there. It was full of crap of course, nothing special at all. You can see the reflection in the picture. The famous statue of the tied gun was outside, and I almost laughed when I saw it. Damn, I thought the thing was going to be huge, but it was not bigger than 1 meter. So lame!
After that I just wanted to go home, home, home to the house. Stood waiting for the V train for about 15 minutes. The street performer at that platform, an American Idol-wannabe who sounded like a 12 year old Michael Jackson, saw that I was waiting for a long time and called out in the microphone that "V trains don't run on weekends". Embarrassing. That was my day. Now I'm gonna sleep. Good night!