Best Random Stranger Walk Ever!
Plus! Crazy ideas for a crazier Downtown Brooklyn!! Items of Interest!!!
Hello everyone,
Welcome to Issue #153 of CAFÉ ANNE!
So in last week’s issue, I wrote about the giant Macy’s liquidation sale in Downtown Brooklyn and asked what you’d like to see fill the newly vacant five-story, 440,000 square-foot space.
Everyone had such great ideas!
“A human-sized game of Chutes and Ladders,” replied David R. on the Upper East Side.
“Maybe they could open a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade Museum that would house tiny replicas of every parade float since 1924?” said Jules T. in Canada. “With a turkey leg food truck parked out front.”
Anita in Park Slope envisioned ballroom dancing + mega spa + outdoor pool + restaurants.
But my favorite suggestion came from Rob S in Fort Greene who combined my query with two other items in last week’s issue. “I think it's high time Anabolic World had a brick-and-mortar presence in Downtown Brooklyn,” he wrote. “That could easily take up a floor of the old Macy's. Throw in a nice Catholic espresso spot (think of the latte art opportunities!) and a ZYN bar and the place will pay for itself.”
I emailed these suggestions, along with my idea for a giant indoor petting zoo, to United American Land, the investment group that reportedly purchased the property, but no one got back to me. WHY?
And now for some housekeeping.
First, some of my best stories, including “Where do NYC’s Street Cart Donuts Come From?” and “My Most Bonkers Story Ever” (about a supposedly non-existent Manhattan steakhouse), came after a reader emailed asking me to solve a local mystery. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten a good case. Got a NYC puzzle you’ve been wondering about? Respond in the comments or drop me a note: annekadet@yahoo.com.
Also, there are now a few places in the city offering AI robot massage. I’m dying to write about it, but rates start at $60 for a 15-minute session. If you’d like to chip in a few bucks to help subsidize this little adventure, please donate to my Venmo account. And please note that it’s for the massage so I don’t get confused and blow it on ZYN!
In other news, huge one-year-deathvesary-for-Flaco-the-Owl shoutouts to this week’s new paid subscribers Brenda M. and Nora S. That’s enough $$$ to visit the new Year of Flaco exhibit at the New York Historical Society four times. Unless I fly in through the window, Flaco-style.
I am, of course, every excited for this week’s issue. We have a profile of a random stranger I met on Reddit plus some new items of interest. Please enjoy.
Regards!
Anne
DEPT. OF SNOWY ENCOUNTERS
Best Random Stranger Walk Ever!
I've always imagined I could meet any random New Yorker, spend some time with them and get an interesting story. Recently, I had a chance to test this theory out.
I was trawling the r/Brooklyn message board on Reddit when I came across an intriguing query:
The mysterious post mentioned only a location: "Nearby Beverly Ave, Caton Ave, Ft Hamilton, Coney Island Ave."
I immediately responded to the querent: "I will go for a walk with you."
My hope was that I could meet this person for a stroll without knowing anything about him or her advance. But as we planned our excursion over the text exchange that ensued, some details emerged.
"I’m pretty new to the U.S., so it’ll be nice to walk, chat, and get to know each other while I learn more about the US from you!" the person wrote.
He signed off, "Regards, Moammar Rabbani".
He also mentioned he had an overnight job and would prefer to meet on his day off. A blue collar fellow, I figured.
When I asked if I could write about our walk for my blog, he requested a link to CAFÉ ANNE. So then he knew an awful lot about me. "Seeing your blog site I am really excited to meet you!" he texted just before we met up.
"I will be wearing a black coat and black scarf on my head," I wrote.
"I know that," he replied. "That's your style."
The meeting spot he chose for our morning walk was a dog run near the Parade Grounds south of Prospect Park. Arriving a bit late, I spotted Moammar leaning against a snowy bench. He saw me and waved. We approached and shook hands, as if we were diplomats at some sort of weird embassy for dogs. He was very young (just 23, he told me later), sporting a wool cap and a nice smile.
He asked if I'd been to Prospect Park before.
"Like 1000 times," I said, as if this was something to be especially proud of.
We headed into the park.
While Moammar was looking bright-eyed, he told me he hadn't slept much the night before. He works overnight at the Whole Foods warehouse on Third Avenue in Sunset Park, near the Costco. He breaks down pallets of groceries for Whole Foods and Amazon Fresh delivery guys filling customer orders.
"What's it like to work at the warehouse?" I wondered.
"I love to eat cereal, you know?" he said. "So I love to work in the back area where the cereals are stocked."
He doesn't mind the third shift, as he's a night owl. "And the main thing is, I love Red Bull," he said. "It's not good for health, but I love it."
He guzzles a 16-oz can at the start of his shift and another 8-oz bottle on his 3 am break.
"Wow," I said. "You must feel awesome!"
His coworkers hail from all over the world—South America, Mexico, India, Ghana. There's no one on his shift from his homeland, Bangladesh. And he’s fine with that.
"I lived there for 23 years, right?" he said. "So I came here to America, I want to meet people of America!"
And he really is very new to NYC. When his aunt moved the states in 2006, she applied for visas for the whole family. Eighteen years later, the visas were finally approved. Moammar came here last October with his mom, dad and two younger siblings.
He’s not super happy about the move, by the way. Until this fall, he was living in Chittagong, a big port town (population 3.7 million) on the Bay of Bengal where he was studying law at an outpost of the University of London. He was on his way to becoming a barrister and planned on moving to London to finish his degree. But his parents, who are in poor health, asked him to join the family move to Brooklyn and help them settle in.
"I think, 'Why I come here?'" he said. "I was so happy in Bangladesh. So happy. So happy!"
His life in Bangladesh was pretty cushy, it turns out.
By his account, his grandfather was one of the richest men in a not-so-wealthy country. They lived on a big spread where they raised 52 Holsteins and tended a big terrace garden. The "Green House," as Moammar calls it, is still in the family.
As he spoke, I pictured an estate out of a Jane Austen novel. But later he showed me some photos. It's nothing like that! You can take a look at the home and surrounding streetscape on Google maps.
"We did milk business," he said. "And there was good popularity over there for our milk. And my grandfather's other business was also there. There's a warehouse in my home. That's for fans. You know, ceiling fans? My grandfather was the sole importer of ceiling fans in Bangladesh!"
Grandpa also imported Spout brand gum and Pringles potato chips.
Moammar’s dad, it seems, was maybe not so savvy. He tried his hand at auto imports, for example, but the cops seized an illegal Mercedes and smashed it with hammers.
"When my grandfather, he die, he takes all his luck from this earth," said Moammar.
Moammar seems to take more after his grandfather. During the pandemic, he launched a business, 4M Trade Intl., to import face masks, industrial cold storage units, dates and, of course, lentils.
"Why don't you start a business here?" I asked.
"I have to get settled first. You're going to help me, right?" he said.
"Sure," I said, envisioning myself signing the papers on a cargo container of lentils.
The family lived in relative comfort, said Moammar, but the opportunity to move to the US came at a good time. The political situation in Bangladesh is precarious these days, with last summer’s mass protests leading to the long-standing Prime Minister fleeing the country, rising violence and economic instability. "It is right now not safe to live there, not for my dad," said Moammar. "He was getting threats. It's like a massacre over there."
Here in Brooklyn, the family is not so well-off. Bangladesh has strict controls over how much money individuals can take out of the country, said Moammar. In this case, $20,000 per person. That's a decent cushion, but it won’t go far in New York City.
Happily, they have scores of aunts, uncles and cousins in Brooklyn to lean on, most living in Kensington, the neighborhood just south of Prospect Park that the New York Times dubbed "Little Bangladesh."
Moammar has an apartment in a three-story home owned by an uncle and is helping another uncle with his construction business. He got his warehouse job through a cousin.
"What a weird thing," I said. "You grew up in this wealthy family. You were planning to become an English barrister. And now you're in Brooklyn, working in an Amazon warehouse."
This is temporary, Moammar assured me. He plans to earn a criminal justice degree from CUNY and join the NYPD. He has an uncle who is a cop, and his cousin is becoming a cop. "It looks so great, their passion and everything," he said. "And the benefits!"
This made me think of all the cops I see patrolling our city's streets. What stories might they have that I'd never imagine in a million years?
We were almost at the north end of the park. I asked Moammar if I could take his photo, and then he wanted a photo of the two of us together, so we stopped a jogger and posed for a shot.
'What do you do here for fun?" I asked.
"I am looking for fun!" said Moammar. "My cousin told me you can find friends on Reddit. So then I met you."
"What kind of friends are you looking for?" I asked.
"Right now, you're my friend!"
"Okay!" I said.
"I have two best friends, not in America, in Bangladesh, who saw me off,” he said. “One is Mustafa and one is Yamin. We cried a lot. We remain friends."
"Well, we're going to find you a friend," I said, feeling he could do better than his pals overseas and a nosy lady blogger. "Tell me what your interests are."
"I want a friend who can understand me," he said. "With whom I can share everything, whatever is going on. My economy is good or bad, my back home is good or bad, my present situation is good or bad, everything. That's how a friend should be. We have to understand each other."
He enjoys the company of his family, of course. Especially his little sister Munira, who runs a bakery business on Instagram, MooncakesNYC. While she’s younger, said Moammar, she’s wiser and gives good advice.
Before it got super cold, Moammar spent a lot of time riding Citi Bikes around Manhattan with his cousin. He's also going for a lot of walks. He's hooked on an app called Sweatcoin. "You sweat, you earn coins. They track your GPS, kilometers and steps,” he said.
He also enjoys hanging out at the Brooklyn Public Library. By then, we'd made it to the end of the park where the library’s central branch is located, so we went inside for a coffee. We sat in the café and he asked about my situation in Brooklyn. He seemed particularly interested in my family life, and seemed surprised that I live alone.
"I have to marry," he said, referring to his culture’s custom of arranged marriages. "But I don't want to marry Bangladeshi. Any other country—India, Pakistan. Pakistani girls, they know some religious poems, religious rhymes, good tunes without music. I'm just thinking that I'm sleeping, and my wife is singing for me. Oh, man, I don't need headphones if I get married!"
His culture has grown more open to dating, he added, but he’s not sure this is a good idea. "You are loving someone and everything, but then somehow one goes away, breaking someone's trust. My dad told me that trust is like a mirror. If you break it somehow, you cannot gain it from me again. There will always be a crack. That is what I learned from my dad."
"Do you try to be trustworthy?" I asked.
"Always!" said Moammar.
If his dad called him at the library and asked him to come home, Moammar said, "I'm gonna leave you right now and go! Definitely. This is my dad. I love him, and I fear him, too. He is so strict."
"How about your mom?" I asked.
"My mom, sweetest girl, sweetest lady," he said. "She understands me.”
He also leans on his faith. Although life has taken an unexpected turn, he knows it's Allah's plan. "I pray to Allah. Allah says, ‘I have written something for you.’ It is listed. It's permanent marker. You cannot erase it, you cannot change it. It's written 14,000 years ago, before I was born. So that's how I make myself calm down."
We finished our coffee and he walked me to the 2 train at Grand Army Plaza, chatting more about future plans. He'd like his dad to sell the family home in Chittigong and buy a business in Brooklyn, maybe a laundromat.
"You have an amazing story," I said. "It'll be so interesting to see what you do here."
"It would be great to meet you again," he said. "I want to share you more stories."
"And maybe some other people who read this will want to be your friend, too," I said.
"Yeah, I'll make friends from your blog," he said. "Write good!"
Want to hang out with Moammar? Drop me a note at annekadet@yahoo.com and I’ll pass it along!
ITEMS OF INTEREST
Bronx Bodegas Selling Loosie Eggs
CAFÉ ANNE is a free weekly newsletter created by Brooklyn journalist Anne Kadet. Subscribe to get the latest issue every Monday.
This newsletter is my favorite thing on Substack
Sounds like we need a Cafe Anne picnic with Moammar as the guest of honor!