Five years ago today I arrived in New York. I was living in London at the time so landed at the airport with too many suitcases and wearing three coats (I didn't have the heart to leave them behind). I didn't know a soul and had only been to the city once before with my family when I was thirteen years old. My parents flew over from South Africa to meet me there for a few days (any excuse to get to NY) and it was a blur of walking, moving into student housing down town, discovering
Bed Bath & Beyond and
The Container Store to deck out the res room, going for dinner at Cornelia Street Cafe, following Hurricane Katrina on the news, orientation, dog parties in Washington Square Park, thinking 14th street ran north to south (a big cause for disorientation), my neck straining upward trying to take it all in and my eyes wide open as I was blown away. I distinctly remember when my parents left for the airport to head back home. I waved goodbye to them as they drove off in a cab somewhere on Waverly Street and I had no idea how to get back to my dormitory on William Street. It was sink or swim. So I dived right in.
It is quite wonderfully ironic that today, five years later, I bought two tickets to NY. We will be there in October and I cannot wait to get back to the city that was my home for four years.