transplanted allergies

I treated myself to a small cup of hot cocoa on 3rd Avenue in the Bronx on the way to work. One dollar yielded a steamed beverage and reminder that I am an outsider in the northernmost borough I have been flirting with.

“Do you want sugar?” said the man elevated on truck also selling pastries and bagels.

“No, thank you,” I answered. “Do you have soy milk?”


“Skim milk?”

“No. Just regular milk.”

There was an awkward pause and I told him to just throw in a little bit.

He handed me my hot cocoa, wrapped up in two small napkins; I handed him a dollar.

Soy milk in the Bronx?” he said with a smirk.

There is something special about this place, which is the fourth-largest in land area of the five boroughs, the fourth most populated, and the third-highest in density of population. I’ve gotten the best coconut ice ever from a sweet woman pushing a cart of various flavors. That first lick revealed a true sense of palm tree treasures. I’ve yet to experience the Botanical Garden or the Wildlife Center. There is also the Edgar Allan Poe Cottage!

It all begins with a paper cup full of powdered hot chocolate (the best kind), which opens up my eyes to the beauty of this Bronx.