"Where are you from?!"
"Australia!"
"Well obviously, where in Australia?"
"Oh, of course my accent, I'm from Sydney!"
"Do you know where Lancelin is?"
"No..."
"Eradu?!"
"In Australia? No...."
"Do you even know your own country?"
Is that even a real question... jerk. Do I really have to stand behind this bar and serve this guy? Ugh.
"So why did you move to New York? What's your passion?"
"Ummm....""Come on Rachel, what would you die for? What are you so passionate about that you would die for it?"
Oh good question... I need to think how to answer this properly..."Oh! There we go!!! That's the problem right there! You don't have a passion!"
Problem? I didn't know we were Dr Philling. Is this guy for real. He didn't even give me a chance to answer.
"What would I die for?! My family"
"No it can't be something like that! You see, me, well I would die for motorcycle riding..."
Wow. There we go. We really went full circle on that conversation.
Bar tending in New York is a sure way of meeting and
talking to a whole fruit bowl of people. I was recently told I reminded someone
of tinker bell and that he would like to follow me and sprinkle fairy dust as I
walked. One man said I looked like Ariel the disney Princess and another said I
was Lara Croft, so he would go home and play Tomb Raider just to be with me. A
21 year old said I wasn't too old for him. Some girl wanted to
become Facebook friends ASAP and set me up on a blind date with her friend because
"we are soooo right for each other". And Mmre recently I
was told, "you're not Australian, you have no accent!" and to
add, "the Socceroos never had a chance, this game is irrelevant, change
the channel!" eaaaasy buddy.
“So what brings you here?”
That has to be a strangers’ favourite question. After 14 months of
repeating myself, the desire to answer it with interest has diminished. I am
here because I want to be. I am here because, why not? It's New York, are you
really asking why?
As a teenager my Grandma called me a ‘gypsy’. I always
had a bag packed, coming or going from somewhere. As an adult, a friend and I
recently joked about my ‘restless soul’. A Gypsy Soul.
As I scroll through my photos from the past 14 months, it feels like 5 years I've
been gone. People often ask me which I prefer, Australia or New York? But
asking me to answer that is like asking if I prefer my right or left foot- I
need them both! Don’t ask me which one is stronger, which one is nicer, which
one I’ll chose for life- because, I just don’t know.
December 12th 2014 will be the day my working visa in
the United States expires. In recent months Australia has been tugging at my
heart strings. The winter in New York was long. With months passing by without
a glimpse of green grass. I would wake in the morning, feet on the floor, robe
on my back. I would walk into the kitchen make my coffee and then look out the
window- now what? There was no balcony to stand on, no backyard to sit in, no
park to lay in and no car to drive. First world problems- I hear you. But
your soul begins to ache for what it's always had- sun, warmth, outdoors and a
cool ocean breeze. Prior to my New York winter, I'd never realised where
I had grown up. Literally, by the ocean. Born in Sydney on the
North Shore, to then move to Sisters Beach (Tasmania) at age 4, the name says
it all- Sisters Beach. For the most part I was back and forth
between these two states, back and forth by the ocean. I lived a life of
driving to school along the ocean, coming home from work along the ocean.
Winter mornings could be spent outdoors without your nose falling off and cold
winter nights were boots, a coat and maybe gloves if it's really bad. One
December morning, as winter set in, I phoned my Dad and tears began to swell. I
felt so claustrophobic in this city! Winter leave me alone! But Rachel, get it
together. This is one of the greatest cities in the world- am I crazy? Give me
a tree to sit under or an ocean to swim in ASAP!
Today is July 9th, it's officially summer. I sprung out of
bed, the sun shinning with a nice cool breeze- a welcomed change from the hot
oven New York has insisted on being this past week. New York is a city of
extremes, an ice box in the winter when it's too cold to open the windows or
sit outside and an oven in the summer when it's too hot to open the windows or
sit outside. This city truly is like a boyfriend, I fall in love, I fume with
anger and frustration, I stamp my foot and pack my bags for a few days break
but always returning and falling in love again.
I haven't blogged in too many weeks. Writing is my thing.
The thing I like to do most and while sentences have floated in and
out of my head I haven't figured out what I should actually sit down and
write.
The thing about travel is that you realise life just goes on- with or
without your permission. It'll happen whether you're ready for it or not
and lately, I'm not. I've traditionally been a type A personality. My
diary is always colour coded and I've scheduled in appointments
months in advance. I had a 5 year plan, my goals were laid out and ticked off
as I went. I knew what grades I needed to get on each assessment and I knew
what date that debt would be paid off to the last minute and cent. Life was
broken down into percentages and minutes. For the most part I felt ready for
life and its obstacles. Mainly because I analysed it enough times to know what
was coming and when it would arrive on my door step.
And then I moved to New York...
New York, a city overflowing with chaos. Beautiful, loud, blinding,
heart consuming chaos. As I sit in my
Manhattan air-airconditioned apartment, with my earphones in, the
city of madness roars beyond my door.
Last week I had to wakeup a homeless man sleeping on my door step. I
tapped his shoulder and asked him nicely to please move so I could get in my
door, something that would have once scared the hell out of me is now done as
if I'm checking the mail. He apologised and off he went. It's hot out, I get
it- he needs some shade! This city has changed me in ways I don't
always recognise as now, to me, it's normal. I recently had a friend visit
from Australia, and whilst at a bar we were impatiently waiting to be served.
As the bartender called out "who's next" my order for a cucumber pitcher
was already out of my mouth before we had even made eye contact. Being quick is
something that is second nature to me here but a trait my friend had noticed as
a change "look at you! you didn't even hesitate! So fast".
In a city of brief encounters, there is no time to stutter or trip. I run for
the closing doors of the subway and I will walk into oncoming traffic in
Midtown on a Saturday night to hail a taxi (maybe not my smartest move Alex).
Four million people move in and out of Manhattan on any given day. Your 3 tools
to survive in a day are your MTA subway card, your bank card and an ID. Swipe
this, tap that, sign this.
Christmas 2012, while I was visiting New York for the very first time,
my Uncle was diagnosed with a terminal brain tumour. Not many months passed and
another very close family member was diagnosed with prostate cancer.
Knowing that these people in my life were so ill, well, I couldn't for a second
allow any negative thoughts into my brain. I pushed them out like a bulldozer
in full force. I had never lost anyone in my life and cancer wasn't about to
make it a first. It was a word I hadn't had to hear in my family and I refused
to listen. I knew far in the back of my brain that when I made the choice to
move to New York, something could happen. But it wouldn't.
Several months passed and after intensive treatment the prostate cancer was
officially in remission and my Uncle was fighting strong. See! I told myself, everything
will be ok. Originally my plan was to go home in April, 2014, marking 12
months, however I made a choice to extend another 8 months. I was pushing
the boundaries of time. March 2014, as I walked to work I decided
to give my Mum a quick call to say hello. When she answered the phone crying I
couldn't quite wrap my brain around what words she was saying. My Grandma was
in ICU and it wasn't certain she would make it through. In that instant my
entire world stopped. I remember exactly where I was, crossing the street in
Union Square full of strangers. How was this real life? I wasn't expecting
this... I wasn't ready for this... life stop it right now! Stop
moving! In that instant I realised what it meant to move away, it meant exactly
what it was, you're not there anymore, you're here- you're away. Hours
went by and thankfully, the strong woman she is, pulled through and the
distance didn't seem as scary. Did I need to go home? Because I would? I
thought of the long journey home. But for now everyone assured me it was
ok. My family were ok.
Months passed and my Uncles health began to deteriorate and the distance
once again became real. It felt like it was a real physical object larger than
the ocean, wedging itself between us. Australia really is a long way away when
you’re on the other side of the world. June 4, 2014 as I finished work and
turned on my phone I received a message that read "have you
spoken to your Aunty?", I knew instantly. Technology that fascinating
tool. I typed into Google my Uncles name, and the screen read, "Doc Neeson
died, aged 67". Google literally delivered the message of my Uncles
passing. As I stood in a Lower East side office in New York city, I just didn't
know what to do. My phone began lighting up with messages from friends relaying
their condolences. That night I walked home from work, finding a step to sit on
and stare up at the stars. Taxis flew by, hours sounded and people walked
on by. This city kept moving, we were literally worlds apart. As the days
passed Twitter, Instagram and Facebook were filled with messages to my Uncle, a
wonderful talented musician that was taken too soon. After speaking with my
family the decision was made not to come home, because as we had just learnt-
life happens wherever you are. It will not wait. Rest in peace Uncle
Bear.
Last month my right arm, my friend, my amazing
companion, Nicole, left back to Australia. Her year in NYC had come to end and
it was time to go. What am I going to do without her? I hadn't lived in this
city without her. Life- I'm not ready yet! I found myself, yet again attempting to real time back in by the tail. But
time doesn’t listen. I hugged her tight and waved her goodbye as she walked
into the airport. I cried and missed her before she had even left, the distance
once again being so real but I knew she had to go. Today I received a giant bouquet
of roses at my door, with a note reading “To my dear Rachel, I wanted to send
you these to brighten your day and to thank you for being such and amazing
friend. Miss you. Love Nicole xxx”. I realized then, no matter the distance,
real friendship and love will keep living and the world isn’t as big as it always
seems. Time and life keep moving but we just have to jump on its back and ride
it as best as we can.
As my days begin to close in, I realize why I moved to this beautiful
beast of a city. A beast, so wild and intriguing. You’re forever
in pursuit of taming it, a fruitful yet unattainable task. But isn't
that it's beauty? Riding the beast, on the back of chaos, madness and adventure
until the end.
