I hate to start with a cliché – but it’s been a roller-coaster of a few days. Or maybe more of a yo-yo. One minute I’ve been up – I’m going to New York and I’m so excited I can’t eat, the next minute I’m not and I’m faced with the prospect of scuttling back into the status-quo with my tail between my legs – and I’m down.
After my leap of faith in booking flights, I came in, on what was due to be my last day in the job in Northern Ireland, to an email that cryptically said ‘we’ve hit a snag’. My heart plummeted. By the time I got to speak to the Americans, due to the time difference, I was imagining the worst – and it was the worst. It looked like the job was off, due to a bureaucratic interpretation of the rules, which meant I should be paid more, much more, because I was travelling from overseas, but which the department employing me had not budgeted for and couldn’t afford. There then followed a day of nail biting for me, and what I imagined to be a flurry of ‘memos written in the strongest terms’ in America. Suddenly, on Thursday night, as I had given up hope, I got a text at 11.30pm – ‘Julia we have ok for you to come’ – and the yo-yo was back up.
So, Saturday morning saw me up at 5am to catch a taxi to the bus station, a bus to Dublin and a plane to New York. It’s so true about familiarity breeding contempt. Suddenly, faced with the prospect of not seeing Belfast for six weeks, everything leapt into clear focus that morning. The dog putting her face up to me, only looking for breakfast of course, the cheeriness of the taxi driver, the curve of the terraced houses at the Markets as we drove into the town, the accent of the bus driver, joking with me about change – and Mutley, getting up with me, dragging my ridiculously heavy bag out to the taxi in his dressing gown and odd slippers, kissing me goodbye and gently pushing me out the door – suddenly I almost couldn’t bear to leave, after all these weeks of pushing to go.
And then, after so many snags, the journey went entirely to plan. My bag WASN’T over-weight, the queue for security and pre-immigration wasn’t too long, the flight was long but not unbearable, and then I was waiting to re-claim my bag and looking for a taxi.
The thing about New York, you realise as your taxis hurtles into town, is it’s such an old-fashioned city. Despite all the sky-scrapers, this isn’t some futuristic Tokyo or even Sydney. When you’re my age, your impressions of it are all formed from 70s TV movies – but, aside from the monumental change caused by 9/11 – it still looks pretty much the same as the last two times I was here, in 1998 and in 2005. But the charming thing is, it’s still a surprise when you see that things really do look like they do in films – a fire hydrant on the ‘sidewalk’, the armies of yellow cabs, guys playing basketball on one of those city pitches with wires fences all around. And then a little hint of home – a poster on a taxi wishing William and Kate congratulations!
My accommodation, secured after hours of searching online, is sharing with a fascinating woman who runs an NGO here, partially aimed at tackling human trafficking. She is Romanian by birth, but has been in the States for a decade or so. She is a whirlwind of energy, petite and beautiful, and very kind – as I started to enter the stupor of exhaustion last night, she fed me an amazing Romanian-style soup made from spinach and fish head, plyed me with a home-made Bellini cocktail, and arranged for us to go to a party. Unfortunately my energy gave out before I could join in – but by the end of that long long day yesterday, I felt completely at home here.
Our flat is on the 16th floor of a modern block in the Upper East Side. It has a gym and a swimming pool on site (although I’m going to have to pay to use that) and sun-deck on the roof. We look out up the island of Manhattan – again, what else would you expect to see, but it’s still breathtaking. When I woke (predictably) at 5am this morning, I looked out on a still-dark city, the glow of sunrise just visible behind the buildings, the sea to the right calm and grey. Now, despite the fact it’s Sunday, the city is humming with life, angry horns beeping and construction work continuing on the site opposite. We’re also right near the Metropolitan hospital, so I think my amazement at US style ambulance sirens might wear off pretty quickly!
