I always felt a special connection to New York City. Ever since I first arrived at the Port Authority bus terminal and found myself confronted by the luminescence of Time Square, swarming sidewalks, and bustling streets; it was the beginning of a long and passionate affair. As an 18 year old kid from Kentucky, I was in awe and in love with its magnificence. By means of frequent weekend trips and yearly extended visits, I relentlessly pursued all that New York City had to offer. It epitomized the things that I cared about, with communities of artists, galleries, publishers, book dealers, design firms, and so on. I wanted to be on the cutting edge of contemporary art, and I felt that only within New York was such a thing possible. With every visit, I came away transformed, with a new conception of art and a deeper understanding of myself. New York became a place where I could feel like an outsider and yet feel at home.
During these last few days in New York, I was stunned to realize that it was no longer of interest to me. In fact, the place generally made me feel uncomfortable. While the city has continued to rapidly change since my last visit, clearly my own perception and values have changed much more. It was difficult to engage a city that had always felt incredibly fast paced and crowded, when now it felt tired and empty. Where was the raw intensity, the chaos, and the noise? New York instead felt like little more than a high density shopping plaza, a suburban strip mall complete with luxury apartments.
In the past I was always impressed by the array of fashionable boutiques, trendy bars, and well dressed people. With a city full of wealthy and glamorous inhabitants, I have always felt partly out of place in Manhattan, but never to the extent that I do now. In fact, after a decade of hoping to one day live in West Village or the Upper East Side, I have entirely dropped those sentiments. These places are just too clean, too polished, too cool, and altogether too irrelevant within the world. At least the world that I know.
I did at least find some respite within outer Brooklyn, with its modest houses and more casual atmosphere. Here and there it felt a bit too hip, with its trendy coffee shops and bars and young people dressed like a page in the Urban Outfitters catalogue, but in general it was much more appealing. As I walked down the street this morning to catch the Q train, the sidewalks were swarming with children going to school, walking with their siblings and their moms or dads. I felt happy to see so many little kids, bundled up with winter clothes and glowing faces, making their way along the crosswalks and taking short detours at the playground. That may have been the best NYC moment I had within the last 3-4 days. It was simple, honest, and inspirational.
Maybe I'm just getting older, or maybe Africa has given me far more than I ever realized. Regardless of the reason, my love affair with New York has ended. In ways this is disturbing to admit, as I have lost the last small piece of America where I still felt somewhat at home. I now find that my sense of Cairo being home has become reinforced. As the feelings of alienation within my own country have gone up a notch, my compulsion to be on the road has become amplified. New York was an important destination for so long, I will always admire the role it has had in my life. But that story has now ended, and is time that I set forth toward something far greater. It is time to reengage the journey.
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