New York City is not the apple of my eye, as it seems for many young, driven individuals. Where they and I miss the junction of commonality is built into the urban environment itself, particularly in its vastness and uncountable ways of utilizing concrete. As a native New Yorker, one of my colleagues so appropriately said, “You cannot know New York.” This spring’s annual Association of American Geographers conference led me back to this city for the third time.
Fortunately, I have experienced NYC at different stages in my life. My first encounter with this worldly city was as an enthusiastic 8th grader with high expectations and idealistic photo opportunities in mind. After college graduation, I had several friends move to the concrete jungle, and I visited them with another best friend a year after graduation. We were avidly pursuing intimate restaurants and secret hideaways to “feel” like a local and, most importantly, to be a part of the high life. My best friend, living in a “peanut box,” along with other creative, like-minded New Yorkers, met all these expectations on this trip. Broadway and exclusive restaurants were the appetizers to precede our main course of dancing the night away at the famous Boom Boom Room. To see the view from that point makes you appreciate how people become so susceptible to New York’s infectious “bite.”
My third and most recent trip was all about geography. I have been occasionally called “independent” but often characterized as “unique.” Those two qualities allow me to push the social norms that most people abide by. Without wondering what I should be doing in NYC and being concerned for the interests of those on the trip with me, I could just be on this street expedition. What does that include? Silence and good walking shoes.
The first day I arrived during this third trip, I anticipated the day to be full of confusion, awkward questions, and wrong turns. While I am a geographer by heart, I have a notoriously lousy ability to follow directions and find myself lost more than not. And as anticipated, the day was exhaustive, mostly due to my 45lb bag. After hauling my bag up and down the subway system for an hour of wrong turns in the pouring rain, I was ready to settle in for a few presentations by the time I made it to the conference hotel. Thankfully, the rain lightened, and I could start my exploration.
Walking is my preferred methodology. I love to walk, experience the rush of people, and listen to the place without interrupting it with a long pause, but I also love to keep walking. Walking past previously visited sites, my mind traveled back to a different time when the streets were blanketed with snow, and my little sister and I were miserably cold, begging to ride in a taxi instead of struggling through the streets to our destination. My father is also a walker and ingrained in this type of transportation and thus placed experience in me at a young age. But deviating from this semi-familiar route was my goal, and I found a path presumably lost to New Yorkers themselves. While walking around Central Park, looking up at the buildings with the coveted views and surprising passer-buyers with a “hello,” I came upon the traditionally auto-only street running through the park. As taxis and black cars turned in, I could not help but seek the unknown pedestrian experience of this corridor. Unlike any other street in NYC, I did not encounter another sole. Pleasantly, there were treasures along this route, such as the peculiar gates, odd buildings, and windows into the park from an abnormal view. This was also a place to watch my step and avoid the puddled leaves and collection of other NYC juices.
The last night in NYC, I walked from 46th Street down to Houston St. several blocks east. When I arrived at my destination, one of the first things my friend said was, “Without earphones?” Yes, without earphones or any other distractions, I walked for over an hour. I traveled through busy streets, quiet patches, recognizable storefronts, and tourist sights, but for the most part, I was just another person on the unremarkable street. I love to see a city and its urbanites being themselves, observing how they live in this massive maze without the eyes of “outsiders” upon them.
Just strike out and walk. You will be surprised at what the noise can tell you about a city when you listen.
No comments:
Post a Comment