New York Observations
I’m glad I gave it a second chance.
I visited New York City for the first time in the Fall of 2015. I had just accepted an offer to work for Google and was on the verge of uprooting my life to California. I had a couple of weeks before the big move, so I decided to visit New York City as a birthday treat to myself.
New York City. A place with a legend larger than its highest buildings. A mythical place not for its beauty, but for its energy. Seeing it on TV was not enough. You needed to feel it–all senses needed to be engaged.
It was rough. It was too much.
I remember seeing people rush out glass blocks as if they were escaping something and on their way out the door they were given a shot of Red Bull and a swift kick in the ass. They swarmed ‘round me, past me, as they went down into the subway on their way to their happy hour, their Tinder date, their friends dinner, and late night comedy show. All in one night.
I left New York feeling grateful at the stark contrast with Seattle and the West Coast in general. “Why the rush, dude?” Said the surfer boy version of Camilo in my mind (I don’t know how to surf, so surfer boy Camilo is just a beach vagabond, really).
Nearly eight years later I decided to reassess my perception of New York City again. Too many friends had moved there. Too many things were still happening there. There must be something I missed.
This time was different. I gave myself permission to see the city with new eyes. Easy to say, hard to do.
I came away with multiple observations and epiphanies about New York.
I’ve finally understood the frantic energy of this city. NYC does not reward meandering. It demands intention. And intention requires energy. That said, I’m not sure this is a good city to “take a break,” but it’s a good city to “figure things out.”
The water cups at cafés might as well be shot glasses. They are tiny. You can fit them in your pocket. Each sip feels indulgent. And there is nothing stopping you from getting up multiple times and refilling your tablespoon-sized cup over and over again. But if feels wasteful.
Some blocks feel like a mile. Some blocks feel like a skip. It’s really hard to judge distances when you are walking here. It feels like you are on a treadmill.
The neighborhoods in Brooklyn feel liminal. Neon signs hugging decaying walls erected from times before neon signs existed. It’s not very aesthetically pleasing, but then again, neither is a chrysalis.
This city is so dirty. Trash bags grow like bushes. Wrappers and cigarette butts are freckled on every sidewalk. People throw trash on the ground nonchalantly. A collective resignation. No wonder the rats are winning the war.
Finding a seat at a coffee shop is harder than scoring a Taylor Swift ticket. Do people just teleport to their assigned seat? Is there an app for New Yorkers only? My search for a seat became a leg in the Camino de Santiago.
Trains are a convergence of journeys. Some people shine brightly (as you exchange glances). Some people are just trying to survive as they wilt across the seat and drift into snore. Some are holding tears. Some laugh out loud. Some curse the world out loud. We are all there.
The artistic energy in the city is fueled by its density and how easily it can be explored. You have to give artists playgrounds and stimuli. The more a city encourages serendipity, the more creative energy you will see and feel. It’s a virtuous cycle.
The reputation of the rude New Yorker is exaggerated. I found it easier to make small talk and to express my needs here than Seattle, the passive-aggressive capital of the US. I believe this stems from the tacit knowledge that in this city you can’t make it alone. Self-reliance is foolish in a city as demanding as this.
Our tastes change, which is why it’s worthwhile to reassess our notions of things. I loved New York this time around. Who knows whether I will love it again in 10 years? You can only build taste if you understand your current preferences. And if you don’t know why you have a current preference, then it’s the perfect time to dive deep and understand whether that taste is truly yours or inherited from your environment out of inertia.
New York City is not an easy city to live in–all my friends warned me so. However, I have a feeling that this city has a unique power of showing you the best version of yourself; but first, it tests your mettle. It pushes you against a brick wall and asks you whether your spine is as hard as the steel that makes the bones of everything you can see.
If you succeed, it shows you that there is no ceiling to how high you can be. In the words of Frank Sinatra, you can become “king of the hill, Top of the heap.”
Da-da-dadada, da-da-daddada…
