New York, New York
New York welcomes us with turbulences in the sky. The air crew warns us, it's normal, New York skies are like that. Agitated. Or excited. Or maybe just plain pissed off. We'll never know. The plane swings and jumps, some passengers complain and others feel sick. I can't seem to notice or care as soon as I catch the first glimpse of the Manhattan skyline. It's there. It exists. For real.
We get off the plane and are captured by a huge black man, who goes by the name of Mr Chris, and yep, he's an illegal cab driver. And we know he is and we should just wait for one of the yellow cabs to take us but we decide to trust him and his huge SUV with black windows and his hip-hop music, and suddenly we're in a US stereotype, or is it a scene from a movie? All I know is I can hardly breathe when we pass the Queensboro bridge and we enter Manhattan officially. We drive through narrow streets beside yellow cabs, and by the time the first green peeks of Central Park appear in front of us, it's pouring heavily. Manhattan welcomes us like that, grey, gloomy and rainy, and we brave the weather and explore Times Square and Fifth Avenue, soaked through, and you get the feeling the city is there not to welcome you, but to tolerate you for as long as you'll want to stay, she'll never embrace you with open arms, but since you're here, you might as well have fun. That's the main feeling I get throughout the days, as I walk- or float?- through the streets and parks and islands, as I spend whole hours just staring at people passing by, just because I can. The city that never sleeps, and never wants to, is a harsh one, and you're gonna have to make your way through it, no way it's gonna help you along, but there's people here, who smile just because you're passing by, and then you go see a night screening of Manhattan by Woody Allen in Central Park, hello stereotypes, and you hear people awwwwwing and you hear them clapping, actually clapping and cheering, when the movie shows aerial views of their city, and there it is, why you can't help but love Manhattan with all your heart, and why I can't possibly imagine myself living anywhere else in the- hopefully near- future. Because Manhattan is hard, and unwelcoming, and huge, and you feel lost, but then you walk by Times Suqare and there it is, the center of the world, and you understand there's stuff happening here, and you're a small part of it by just being here, and you can't help but feel your heart swell with pride and joy and love.
New York, I love you.
We get off the plane and are captured by a huge black man, who goes by the name of Mr Chris, and yep, he's an illegal cab driver. And we know he is and we should just wait for one of the yellow cabs to take us but we decide to trust him and his huge SUV with black windows and his hip-hop music, and suddenly we're in a US stereotype, or is it a scene from a movie? All I know is I can hardly breathe when we pass the Queensboro bridge and we enter Manhattan officially. We drive through narrow streets beside yellow cabs, and by the time the first green peeks of Central Park appear in front of us, it's pouring heavily. Manhattan welcomes us like that, grey, gloomy and rainy, and we brave the weather and explore Times Square and Fifth Avenue, soaked through, and you get the feeling the city is there not to welcome you, but to tolerate you for as long as you'll want to stay, she'll never embrace you with open arms, but since you're here, you might as well have fun. That's the main feeling I get throughout the days, as I walk- or float?- through the streets and parks and islands, as I spend whole hours just staring at people passing by, just because I can. The city that never sleeps, and never wants to, is a harsh one, and you're gonna have to make your way through it, no way it's gonna help you along, but there's people here, who smile just because you're passing by, and then you go see a night screening of Manhattan by Woody Allen in Central Park, hello stereotypes, and you hear people awwwwwing and you hear them clapping, actually clapping and cheering, when the movie shows aerial views of their city, and there it is, why you can't help but love Manhattan with all your heart, and why I can't possibly imagine myself living anywhere else in the- hopefully near- future. Because Manhattan is hard, and unwelcoming, and huge, and you feel lost, but then you walk by Times Suqare and there it is, the center of the world, and you understand there's stuff happening here, and you're a small part of it by just being here, and you can't help but feel your heart swell with pride and joy and love.
New York, I love you.