We've all seen the movies: boy and girl walk through Central Park, the snow is glistening while girl wears a cardigan because, you know, Hollywood. That's the fantasy! So we book our tickets, come to NYC, and see Kevin McAllister on one and Rachel and Monica on the other side of the street. Yo, I wouldn't have anything to say right now if that was the truth. This week, I visited New York for the third time, but this time I chose to arrive during a blizzard the international press affectionately called the 'bomb cyclone'... Yay! Make no mistake, it was awesome. The one thing it wasn't was a fulfilled expectation after watching movies and shows. But what it was instead was a deep search into my soul, a cleaning up with the past and an emotional rollercoaster. If you've read this blog before, you won't be surprised...
It's been 12 years since I first stepped foot on New York soil. As a teenager, I had watched Victor Navosky aka Tom Hanks enter the USA via the doors of JFK International in 'The Terminal', imagining myself to do the same thing. Going to the United States was my dream! It was the land of the free, the place with all these people who are outgoing and dramatic like me and a state Germans looked up to since - and before - I was born. It was everybody's dream. Proudly, I posed for a photo in Central Park, an impressive skyscraper called 'Trump Tower' marking the skyline. Today, over a decade and a lifetime of experiences later, I stood in the same place. Of course, we've all changed; we realize we no longer have the same dreams. But more so than myself, the country has changed as well. Or well, it feels like it did, maybe it's me after all...
16-year-old Sina talked to a friend's dad for ten minutes and believed that the incumbent of the oval office in 2005 had a place being there. I still don't hate G. W. Bush, but I obviously hate the guy calling the shots now. The United States as a state, a political entity, is impossible to love. But all I saw this week is what I fell in love with initially: a guy with headphones on the Staten Island Ferry, dancing to whatever was on in his ears, shop attendants telling you their life stories while showing you shoes and every single person at any given shop smiling, saying "stay warm" because there was a blizzard going on outside. Some call it superficial but I couldn't care less; people being nice to me, pretending to care, are making me feel good, even when they're hypocritical Christians that are saying shit to get into heaven. Fine by me, makes my day. Little things go a long way, and for me, these little sentences, gestures, smiles go all the way. They make me want to come back!
There's no reason for me to prefer the US to Europe because Europe simply is the better place. Better health, better education, a better system. Yet, being around Americans this week makes me remember what I had there: being 'one of them'. In the US, I was normal, in Europe, I'm annoying, dramatic or loud. It gets worse living in England where people celebrate the fact they don't express themselves or even eat all their feelings up inside. That's like a quality there. Unfortunately, I don't possess that quality and quite frankly despise it. I like having small talk with a shop clerk. I like random dancers on the subway. I like loud, extravagant, chatty people. In New York, that's at any corner, in England I have to wait until a few Brits get shitfaced. One isn't better than the other, yet I forgot the feeling of being surrounded by people who are sorta like me. One is free to prefer the British way but I don't. Or the Egyptian way. Or the German way, for that matter. When it comes to people, I'm like my accent: American, or something like it...
Now there I was, walking through a blizzard in Brooklyn, remembering my dreams from back in the day. I thought my future was in the US, today I'm not so sure about that. Life in NYC seems rough and nothing like the movies. It's expensive and I know what wages are like, nevermind there's no healthcare and tons of debt for most people. Sure, NYC life isn't like the movies, but neither are British classics Notting Hill or Harry Potter. Both of these lives, the English and the American, were once my life, my vision, the place I saw myself. And now, after nearly 29 years on this planet in all these countries, some good, some very bad, I know for sure that feeling comfortable somewhere matters. And right now, I feel that place is England, but seeing it can also be New York, again, makes me restless once more. This might not be it. Maybe I'll go back one day. And if I do, I'm sure it will feel like coming back here: somewhat like coming "home".
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