on Fifth Avenue ends when the "Museum Mile, the mile down Fifth Avenue where there are the most important museums in the Big Apple, the Museum of the City of NY, the Cooper-Hewitt Museum, The Solomon Guggenheim Museum, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York is very little tourism. After a few blocks just north of 100th Street, at the end of Central Park, began the Barrio, the neighborhood populated by Latinos and Chicanos, Puerto Ricans, Dominicans, and virtually all other ethnic groups in South America. After a dozen streets north has officially started in Harlem, African-American neighborhood that extends until the end of Manhattan, in the deep north-west of Inwood, separated from the Bronx branch of the Hudson River just called Harlem River. No tourist attraction consumer, if not the gospel of the Sunday Masses, however, tend to be more a freak show to attract tourists rather than hearing religious rites. Everything north of 100th Street is resized, such as Park Avenue, majestic and important artery of traffic in New York, Grand Central Station that overlooks the East Side with wide roadways separated by a hedge and rich central offices of banks and consulates around the the world is at an alleyway any, dirty and full of waste without a hedge, with a pair of narrow lanes and the railway that runs above. Back in East Harlem is to me a strange sensation in 2003 because I was right there on the day of the infamous blackout of 29 hours that has literally crippled New York, forcing me to walk from East 120th Street at Lexington Avenue to the Bus Terminal Port Authority (8th Avenue at 42nd Street, a good hike) and then to the entrance of the Lincoln Tunnel, where I and my sweet wife, we were forced to "stop" all the coaches who were heading into the tunnel, looking desperately to return to Jersey where we lived, all in total darkness. I really like is the Barrio is Harlem, neighborhoods are charming, and choreographed, real neighborhoods, populated by real people and with a precise identity, it is always in Manhattan, but with a completely different approach to life. A stranger who comes to this reality must have the humility to remain in place, not to be intrusive and at the same time not to appear afraid. It is often a lottery, many people have told me that they have been abused, mocked, beaten, or even in Harlem, fortunately so far I've never had this experience, I turned to Harlem, on foot and by subway, to any time of day or night, and I thank God nothing ever happened. Arrive in the area in the early afternoon, I go down to 125th Street stop on the green line 6 towards Uptown-The Bronx, I get in the way and are already on Lexington Avenue. I set out southward, are right on the border between the Barrio and Harlem, proud about the latest windows Latinos flaunt their flags of Puerto Rico or the Dominican Republic, although guardadomi around, ninety percent of the people are African-American . The Lexington Avenue in this section is very busy, there are hundreds of children playing loudly in every little space available, there are dozens of shops and clothing stores besieged by mamas of all sizes, the atmosphere is relaxed and jovial. Arrival at the intersection of Lexington and 119th Street, and I run into a dilapidated playground just around the corner, next to a dilapidated school that just does not seem to be well attended. Old baskets are three already in operation, each taking place in a game. I sit at the bottom of a field of three pitches, alongside other ballers waiting to play, all African-Americans and all apparently happy to have me next. Oh well, I'm used to the initial animosity towards me, now I do not anymore. The game ends, and the four of us sat we are called to form a team to face the winners. I do not know if they did it on purpose, but the winners have a special feature that unites them, or have a T-shirt all exhilarating. The youngest, brevilineo, rangy and fast, which shows no more than sixteen years, has a t-shirt with the large face of U.S. President Bush over whose heads the inscription: "International Terrorist." A brute of 1.95 per 120 pounds has a 4XL T-shirt with an arrow pointing to his face that says "The Man", and just below an arrow pointing to the genitals, which says: "The Legend". A boy of about 1.80 pigtail gym has a shirt that reads "333-Half Beast" (exhilarating, but never comes to that of my friend Leo "Torment" Pestoduro, ex-drummer Skiantos, that once, when we played together , was presented with the shirt: "The 667- Neighbor of the Beast "!). Finally, the most beautiful shirt I've ever seen in my life that day was worn by a human devils radio, a mangy boy who was never quiet. Sitting on the ground, tie his shoes, dribble into, shooting, even as he drank his mouth never ceased to issue a flood of words. His shirt mentioned a legendary phrase: "Your Best Defense Is Your Breath", with the background of the shadow face of a man terrified and disgusted! Even my teammate noticed this peculiarity, and just before starting the game, I whispered (after having looked wrong all the time we were waiting, and during heating) to hold back her laughter, "comedian ... a team?". A team of comedians? Daniele Vecchi, Playground in Nw York
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