First New York

I visited New York for the first time when I was in elementary school. I came with my dad on a work related trip I'm sure. My grandfather was here, too, and he took me on a day-long outing where we visited the UN building and he bought me my first Dove Bar from a street vendor complete with the little paper tray to catch the chocolate if/when it fell off the ice-cream bar. I remember noticing the way the streets smelled like old basements or sewers sometimes (certain places in Tokyo smell like that, too). We stayed at the Mayflower Hotel because they had kitchens and I remember the first time I turned the light on in the closet kitchen, the sickening sight of a large army of small, brown cockroaches scurrying to their hiding places and disappearing from sight completely, not that I was fooled. I knew they were just waiting for some privacy to come out and claim what they probably (rightfully) viewed as their own.

New York is also the place where I accidentally added lemon to my milk tea one morning at some restaurant(*). It curdled and I felt too embarrassed to ask for a new one and tried to drink it anyway, rationalizing that it would have combined in my stomach in any case. It didn't work; I couldn't do it. I remember feeling amazed, overwhelmed, excited, nervous, and intimidated in this place of huge history and many bustling people. I guess I still feel the same.

I recently saw this guy's blog in the New York Times and it made me wonder about feeling like your life/world is here in New York. I must say I really enjoy people who love this city and wear it like a skin. I remember once I came to visit my college boyfriend when he was studying at NYU and one of his roommates had just returned from a trip to San Francisco and he kept saying how glad he was 'to be back in the real world again.' For me, it's the exact opposite. All this gotham-citiness, busy people with places to be, weather and seasons, honking cars, coffee with milk unless you specify black, $2 subway rides, amazing things available but you have to know who to ask or where to look; it makes me feel a little like Alice down her rabbit-hole.

I wonder what it is like to have a sense of reality about New York like that roommate had in 1998?