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new york city.
i have been to new york city once in 2000. it was after the millenium and during infertility. i was staying in a friend’s flat, on west 67. west isn’t east (i was to learn when my friend actually apologised for the location of her flat) but it was 30 seconds from central park. did she really think i was complaining?
i walked my way through new york city. i had taken the train down from toronto, and it was autumn. a beautiful time to be rushing past the trees and their swiftly changing leaves. the train seemed to stop everywhere and the train stations were amazing. the students swarming around poughkeepsie, the barreness of de peau and finally, the train itself picking up speed, in response to the thrum of new york city.
i walked through central park each day, and then would branch off in a different direction. one day it was to zabars and carnegie hall. another day it was exploring the east side streets while i wanted for MOMA to open. the publishing district, meat packing, the village, harlem. i think i had a guide book stuffed in my purse, but i rarely opened it. in a city like new york, there was no way of getting off course, because i wasn’t looking for anything specific. i was just looking.
the best day, even for a non american, was taking the ferry out to ellis island. i didn’t want to walk around the statue of liberty, i just wanted to see it, as the weary arrivals to america saw her, and all she represented, out of their bleary and tearing eyes. i spent hours pouring over books, pictures, pictures of people whose names i did not know, and whose names they often didn’t recognise after they got through clearance. how many people were separated from family, relatives and ties because an immigration officer wrote down their name incorrectly?
i saw celebrities at a union strike meeting in central park. baldwins, the cast of the sopranos, many people. listened, laughed.
i bought a great pair of enzo shoes at a dodgy little side shop. i had been notified of the sale by means of a flyer being shoved into my arms and decided, "What the heck".
columbia university. black churches with choirs. a first for me.
carnegies deli and the sandwich that fed me for five days.
the park itself. strawberry fields forever. the quote from WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE. the reservoir.
the day i was walking home wearing a new coat and it started to rain. i stuffed the coat into a bag, and took off my shoes, thrusting them into the bag too. walking in a black t shirt and pants. heading back to the flat, walking along the park. crossing the street and stopping.
my life has never been a film, but in this time, this respite from the infertility that was ripping me and my self esteem apart, this break from emails and internet, my life was as unreal as it would ever get. new york had lived up to its reputation. anything was possible.
and walking across that street, with rain coursing down my face, a stand of hair working its way into my mouth, i celebrated the city, and turned a full circle in the middle of the street, arms open. and it could have been a movie, as the drivers clapped and honked approval. i’m not sure why i did it, i certainly haven’t since, but there was something about new york that made me want to honour it, to be outside myself, to walk barefoot, carefree and admit i was having a great time.
i wonder what i will notice when i get back to new york. i wonder who i will be, what event, possibly even the rain again, will make me open my arms and circle the city.
