Greenpoint - When Irish and Polish cultures meet in New York City
Living in a Polish neighborhood after leaving Ireland behind
Greenpoint is to the Polish what Woodlawn is to the Irish. It's a curious but quaint neighborhood, and I'm glad I chose it, but I am wary of upheavals afoot. Resting on the East River, with breathtaking Manhattan skyline views, Greenpoint is a Polish-American neighborhood at the edge of change.
Along the long and narrow Manhattan Avenue in Greenpoint the signs on the stores read 'Poland Farm Fruit and Vegetables', 'Polonia Ksiegarna' (bookshop), 'Stokrotka Perfumes' and 'Polski Meat Market'. They are nestled in among shops with more American sounding names, 'Beverly Hills Hair Salon' or 'Russ' Pizza.
Awnings adorned with Slavic words - words for which I'd need expert guidance to try to pronounce - punctuate the regular small American chain stores. Above the humdrum Radio Shack, Sofia, the resident 'wrozka' ('fairy'), a psychic and tarot reader, advertises in neon.
Greenpoint in North Brooklyn is, above all else, a Polish neighborhood.
For the new wave of Irish arriving in New York City, a contingent of which I am a member, certain recommendations are heard. Woodlawn in the Bronx is one of the most prevalently Irish neighborhoods in New York and is often cited as a primary place of pilgrimage for emigrants. Many flock there, and for good reason. Trouble and homesickness can be easily allayed thanks to the networks of support for the Irish, but a properly-poured pint of Guinness and a bag of Tayto Cheese and Onion also do a few favors (the first flavoured crisp on the planet, lest we forget).
Shamrocks and apostrophes after the O are in plentiful supply. It's a home away from home - a gateway to the US manned by experienced guides, or a basecamp.
I am a major proponent of the Irish pub all over the world. The Irish pub is a blessing, albeit often coated in paddywhackery. Not many nationalities can be stuck in central China, without the language, and find a glowing black and white sign in the darkness; a mini-consulate existing to serve home comforts and to give understandable directions. I cherish these products of the diaspora.
To those who criticise the prevalence of the Irish pub all over the world I say don't go in, but it's undeniably wonderful to have the option to.
I did not go to Woodlawn upon arrival, due to the fact that friends of mine had emigrated and established themselves over the East River in Brooklyn. I felt I could find my own local mini-consulate nearby, and I was hardly going to say no to a pre-made circle of friends to slip into. They had chosen Greenpoint, and when I arrived a month ago, I followed.
Averil Blakely, a twenty-five year old NCAD graduate, came here in November 2011 and, after much searching, eventually found work as a fashion designer in Manhattan. She still lives in Greenpoint and has no plans yet to move into 'the city': “Greenpoint is the kind of place where you would be recognised as a regular customer in bars, cafes and shops, or your local launderette.
“I didn't anticipate loving New York as much as I did. It sucks you in. This neighborhood is one of the reasons for that I suppose. Being close to a big park is great and I love being able to see the city lights from here. I feel safe; everyone is friendly. It's all I really need.”
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