My first memory concerning visiting New York City goes 18 years back. I was in my father’s car, about to enter sixth grade, and we were all driving home from Oradea after spending a few days in September at Băile Felix as I needed treatment for my broken leg [interesting summer the one of 2001]. I had turned 12 the day before. My father was driving, my mother was in front of me, my brother on my left and I was looking out the window, at an early autumn day wishing someday I could travel by plane. I asked myself where to go by plane and my answer was New York. The next day the 9/11 attack happened and I just decided that this was a sign and I that needed to someday go there no matter what.
So, basically, a coincidence [I have no idea why I chose New York when planning to travel by plane] changed my life. I spent the next 18 years of my life looking at pictures of the city, watching movies, reading about the city and the USA, and feeling proud of my friends who left Romania to go live in the US [I am not sure why I didn’t feel jealousy]. That was another thing, the people who moved there were so close to me, and thanks to one of them [Sonia], I got to live for a few weeks in the US.
It was so weird though, being there. I felt like I were at home. I knew the buildings, I specifically searched for some sights I needed to see, I walked the streets wanting to take it all in so that I could really remember the details once I were not there any more. Because, if one thing became transparent to me in this trip, is the fact that I will never live in New York city. Sure, never say never, and there may be circumstances out of my current understanding, but with knowing what I know about myself right now, the city is way too big for me.
For three days, I was in a constant state of frenzy. For parts of it, I detached from my mind in order to be one with the surroundings. I can’t remember much of the discussions the boyfriend and I had, but I do remember the buildings and feelings I had while walking down the street. Most of all, I remember how I felt in Brooklyn and in the Village. And Central Park. And walking down the Broadway boulevard. And in Washington Square Park. And at Flatiron. And the Grand Central Station and Chrysler building [my second favorite, but most certainly the most beautiful building in the city].
There is also such a funny feeling when one wishes so much for something to happen. Parts of me were through the roof happy just for being there. Parts of me were sad because we were to leave in a few days. And parts of me were super impressed by the size of it all, while parts of me were indifferent to it all, knowing it is all way too good to be true. I’ve experienced tons of mixed [and contradictory] feelings in New York, but the overall sentiment was positive.
I was there. Before I turned 30. On my own terms [negotiated with the boyfriend, though he is such a sweetheart and likes to make me happy, so he just tried to accommodate my ambitious aims to the reality of our physical bodies], on my own resources. And that was what made me feel like I was the luckiest person on Earth!
Hope you’re enjoying the pictures. Make the day count.