These vagabond shoes are longing to stray

I did it. I finally did it. I got on a plane and flew to the United States of America. “Oh, that’s it? That’s not so great”, you might say. But it is. It is that great. And I’ll tell you why. 

In all my thirty years, I’ve only lived in countries where misunderstandings occur due to either language or cultural differences. And the biggest misunderstanding of all of them is that nobody ever appreciated my sense of humor. For example, my pop culture references have been grossly unacknowledged. I’ve lived in countries where my differences or peculiarities have either not been recognized or were gawked at like I was an animal in a zoo. It was nice to go somewhere where people spoke my language, so to say. Where they understood my jokes and actually thought I was funny.

America welcomed me with a warm embrace, squeezed me tight like a long lost relative and played the perfect hostess during my stay. And the most welcoming of all was the ever-charming, rough around the edges but is actually a big softy: New York City.

New York. What a town! Everybody knows at least one song that’s about the city. Artists have paid tribute to her through various forms. I always thought it was just because it’s a big city with beautiful buildings, a colorful history, there are loads to do and you can spot heaps of celebrities. Just like any other metropolis. No big deal. There are a lot of cities like that. Shanghai being one of them. To be frank (pun intended), I wasn’t all that excited to see New York, I actually thought I’d be disappointed going there after living in Shanghai (ironically enough nicknamed the ‘New York of the East’).

It took all of a day for her to completely bewitch me. I was vibrating in sync with the pulse of the city, the atmosphere, the rattle of the subway underneath the streets, whatever you want to call it – I caught the NYC bug - bad. I had no clue where I was most of the time, but I navigated the city like a local, I picked up the accent after a few days and mastered the perplexing subway – all like a real Noo Yawkah.

After my time there, I could clearly see why this town has been lifted on a pedestal and why everyone, even if they have never been there, know about New York. It’s not about her size, or her beautiful architecture, her buzzing social life and impressive list of famous friends; it’s all about her personality. She’s a feeling, not a city. New York is where you come to be celebrated for your differences, where you feel beaten down and like you’re on top of the world all in one day. Our tour guide said it best (I’m paraphrasing here): New York has no tourists. While you’re there, she belongs to you. While you’re walking down her streets, she’s your city. New York belongs to anyone who wants to be there. 

And I fully agree. She knocked me off my feet, planted a fat kiss on my cheek and filled me up with excitement. Not about what there was to see or experience, but rather about how great I felt while I was visiting her. She makes you feel like you can do and achieve anything. She makes you feel like you’re just as alluring and charming as she is and she helps you revisit your long lost dreams. It’s basically a big expedition to rekindle with your inner child, your biggest dreams and a huge ego boost, all while getting lost in a bustling city filled with lights, sirens and sometimes a slight hint of sewage in the air.

I am a born South African, currently a German citizen and a former Chinese resident, but after a mere week, I’m a New Yorker at heart. It sounds so cliché, "I went to New York and left my heart there." "I feel like a New Yorker after only one week".  Insert any other New York cliché here. But that’s just it. Something can only be a cliché if it usually expresses a popular or common thought or idea. And many, many people feel like I do…and for good reason. She’s a classy lady, temptress, comedian, cold wench and your best friend all in one. And who doesn’t like the whole package?

Photos of this enchantress will follow in the next post.