Little Fish in a Big Pond
Last night, after travelling for over 15 hours, we dropped our bags wearily on the floor of our new Air BnB apartment in Harlem, feeling ecstatic and exhausted and everything in between. It was 6am UK time, so as much as we wanted to run out into the night and start exploring, our body clocks got in the way. On the long subway ride to Harlem, trying to keep my eyes open, I did make a few nonsensical mental notes about my first impressions of New York. A lot of people wear hats here. Ones emblazoned with sports team logos seem to be especially favourable. The subway looks just like it does in the films (why wouldn’t it?). There’s a surprising amount of people with blue hair. All of these subway stops sound the same.
Today, a little more rested and less jetlagged, I’ve pretty much just got one thought.
Everything is massive.
Like, huge. Gargantuan. Zoomed in and expanded and supersized. Anyone who has visited New York will know this. But it’s even more awe-inspiring than I expected.
We started off gently, getting up early and hopping on the subway to the south west corner of Central Park for a walk. It was quiet, the crispy leaves on the ground disturbed only by a few runners and dog walkers. But it wasn’t long before skyscrapers pierced the horizon and the sound of car horns, insistent as babies crying, found our ears.
And then you find yourself in the middle of it all. A place so familiar you almost feel it’s home; yet so loud and bold and new that you find it hard to stop and take a breath. My eyes didn’t know where to look, my camera didn’t know what to shoot. We walked for miles and miles until our feet felt sore, eating buttery pancakes, dashing across crossings, pointing at Christmas lights, sipping scalding coffee and looking up, up, up. As newcomers to the city, we were happy to let ourselves be carried along with the tourist hoardes and we ticked a good few things off the list: Central Park (along with the zoo and some iceskating), the Rockerfeller Centre (more on that later), the Met and Grand Central Station. Oh, and Times Square.
If New York is an assault on the senses, then Times Square is a heart attack. It’s an intoxicating and heady experience, and of course, huge: sky-high moving billboards shouting “buy me! Buy me!” from the sky as tourists look on, stupefied. Sexy women dancing on the screens next to enormous coke cans, the names of Broadway shows shining out from the rafters, promising you the night of your life. Look underneath it all and I guess you’ll find a kind of modern, digitised dystopian marketplace run on greedy consumerism – but who needs to think about that when it’s so much fun?
On the other end of the scale, the most peaceful moment of a long and excitable day was standing at the very top of the Rockerfeller Centre, looking out over the city in all its glory. It’s about as touristy as you can get, and I’m normally not too affected by views, but this was something else. It was late afternoon, and the sun was starting to set. A hazy glow hung over the city, and the golden light rippling on the water highlighted the plumes of floating smoke from the top of the buildings. The skyline and the bridges beyond sat there waiting, in all of their word-defying impressiveness, like a jigsaw puzzle I’d never be able to understand or complete.
I’d been gawping at the city all day as I ambled down its streets, down its arteries, distracted by noise and smoke. I’d been marvelling at its size from my lowly position on the ground. But somehow, high above it all and looking down, where everything was quiet and peaceful, it somehow felt way more intimate. I could appreciate the city as one. I could see it as a chaotic, beating whole – not so much a city but an ever-changing entity. As the light kept changing, casting the scene with shadow, mist hiding and revealing pockets of architecture – I felt very small. I’d somehow travelled from my tiny Surrey town, right into the centre of this hulking metropolis. It’s a nice feeling, a humbling and exciting one. And the best part, is that the journey’s only just beginning.
