New York: A city of a million stories

It was hard to get a visual of the city as we drove in from the airport, scrunched on the hard leather seat of the back of a New York taxi, watching the news on a loop in the small screen in front of my legs. I couldn’t stop smiling, it happens when I arrive in a new place and think to myself, “I’ve made it.” It also helped that we were on land after a more-than-normal turbulent early flight.

This is the city where so many before me have made it. It’s a city where reality is bright as day, but when the sky goes dark and the lights come on, dreams come true. It’s known everywhere in the world. When friends from other countries say where they want to go or where they’ve been in the US, New York is top of the list, always.

What surprised me the most about New York was how liveable it felt to me. I always thought it was hard to access or make work, but above all it ended up feeling comfortable. On a morning in the Upper West Side waiting in line for brunch, tiny kids on scooters whizzed past unfazed by the traffic or the other pedestrians, countless people strolled with their dogs, and people were happy. New Yorkers I encountered were nice, I don’t know why I had the impression that they wouldn’t be. There’s a place for everyone there. Plus, the best of the best in food and art and culture and all other things important in the world. I feel lucky I got a glimpse of it all, and am feeling impatient to return.

Highlights of the weekend totally included the food and the art, and the experience of being in the city with a friend who lived there. The bagels were outta this world. I met my cousin, a Brooklyn-based artist, in an Irish pub next door to my hotel and he goes “you know we pronounce that wrong, right?” Because sorry, Minnesotans do pronounce their A’s weird. It was funny. But in all seriousness, a warm everything bagel with vegan scallion cream cheese from a place in Midtown sent me to heaven for a moment.

Other noteworthy food stops included dinner at Supper in the East Village, where my friends were serenaded with a birthday song after all the lights were turned off and our table was gifted a bottle of wine. What followed the song was a huge serving of tiramisu and a delicious chocolate torte. I won’t forget that night, or the spaghetti al limone I happily scarfed down at ten p.m. We also managed to get a table at Una Pizza Napoletana our second night (go late, perhaps after a salad and glass of wine at Eataly). We feasted on extremely authentic, tasty pizza and my friends drank an orange sparkling wine.

In the art world, I was overly impressed at MoMA (The Museum of Modern Art) because I hadn’t done any research on what would be there. Van Gogh’s, Monet’s, Warhol’s, Pollock’s!! I was so inspired, not only by the art but by the breadth of people around me and the languages being spoken. When we arrived, I got an espresso by myself and just stood in the cafe, taking a minute to take in the fact that I was standing in MoMA in New York, this whole new city stretched out before me (I mean, have you seen the beautiful view they have? It’s so New York.).

A couple days later we visited The Met and again I was blown away by how many masterpieces they had in their possession. I don’t know why I was so shocked because it was The Met afterall. The proportions of its halls reminded me of the Louvre, which is really saying something. Highlights there were some of the huge portraits with insane details of fur rugs and lace dresses. Plus, I saw another version of Monet’s Field of Poppies, a personal favorite.

Another unplanned but memorable weekend moment was when I got trapped in Central Park because of the marathon. It forced me to take a nice long tour of many areas of the park, and somehow I managed to exit at the right place to find my subway station. I also have to mention that I was able to visit a Flying Tiger and was immediately transported back to Florence, because I frequented Tiger for art projects and random party supplies and the occasional one euro bag of pine nuts (unheard of!!).

Above all, I had *mastered* the subway by Sunday, after only one lost fare because I directed everyone to enter on the wrong side. I saw the Statue of Liberty and was reminded that Manhattan is an island as the sun set over the water and the wind picked up. It was one of the only moments since returning from studying abroad in Europe where I felt truly proud to be American. Seeing Lady Liberty and Ellis Island provoked those feelings for me, as my friend and I sat astonished thinking about our ancestors before us who had seen the same view we were seeing, provoking for them thoughts of hope and safety and home, I’m sure.