21 year old dreamer

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I was 22 years old. I had just graduated from university. I was not proactive enough in my final year of university to secure myself a job despite knowing the field I wanted to enter; I thought I would go with the flow. Not before long I found myself working at a wine bar after graduation in June not having secured a ‘proper job’. You see, it wasn’t that easy after all. I worked in the one bar day and night for 6 months straight.

The goal was not to get myself the said ‘proper job’. Instead, the goal was to take a month off to travel. Early on this goal-finding mission, I had romantic visions of trekking through the Amazon or over-landing from Morocco to South Africa and such like. As I came up for air, my rose tinted spectacles began to un-mist and I realized such dreams were beyond my means at that point in my life (note, these are still on my bucket list). Instead, I had a new fixation – New York City. The bright lights. This is where I wanted to go.

This was to be my first ever solo trip. I booked my flights. I found somewhere to stay on Craig’s List, of all places! I didn’t really think of this last point until the night before my flight to NYC when I started creating horror stories in my head. I calmed myself down and I certainly didn’t voice my concerns to my parents. I responsibly gave the apartment address to my friend ‘just in case’.

Finally, I arrived at JFK and made my way into Manhattan. The taxi took me straight to the studio apartment I had reserved for 4 days. Once I met Cesar, the super at the brownstone building in Hell’s Kitchen, and he showed me the studio in question, my mind was at ease. In fact, I found the place somewhat delightful especially the wardrobe that opened up to reveal a pull down bed. I had only ever seen this on the TV! The place was small but adequate and, most importantly, I felt safe.

Anyway, I had a wonderful time spending most of my time immersing myself in predictable touristy activities like visiting the Statue of Liberty (or in my case, taking the Staten Island ferry and saluting Lady Liberty as we rode on by), Wall Street, Empire State Building, Rockefeller Center and Bryant Park. Surprisingly, I don’t recall making it to Central Park on this particular visit, which is now of my most coveted spots in Manhattan. Me along with every other New Yorker!

Anyway, I fell in love with the city. The people, the atmosphere, the hustle and bustle. I loved it all. So much so that I returned 6 months later with a close friend of mine. I really wanted her to see how wonderful the city was. She, too, loved it. It was on this trip that I vocalized my desire to live and work in New York City.

Fast forward 6 years to my life in London. The idea of relocating to my employer’s NYC office was dangled in front of me. Naturally, my mind was completely blown and I was mentally jumping for joy but I, of course, kept my nerve with management!

A lot had happened in just over half a decade as one could imagine. I was at a place in my life where I could just up and leave. No commitments, no dependents. The timing was apt (more on this in a later post) and perfect at the same time. But, of course, I had concerns – could I, me, little old me, just up and leave everything and everyone I had known for most of my life? How would I survive without knowing anyone? Who would I hang out with? What would the new office be like? Would they like me there? Where would I live? How would I find somewhere to live? Could I really do this?

YES.