I recently returned from New York City. It was my second trip. Liz and I were celebrating our five year anniversary with a return to the place where we spent our honeymoon.
Let me first of all say that I have romanticized New York in my mind for as long as I can remember. I would like to think that my love for New York comes from Catcher in the Rye, and certainly Catcher does influence my love for the city, but I know that I thought how great it would be to go to New York long before that: probably since elementary school. I don't know what initially engendered my interest, but what I have learned during my short vacations to New York is that it doesn't disappoint.
First of all, I love any city that you can just walk and go find places and watch people without even trying. I also find myself vastly enjoying with public rail systems (thinking also of London). If I ever move to some place with public rail, I vow to drive my car into the nearest river when I get there (or maybe I could sell it, I guess). Owning a car in New York just seems pointless. I simply enjoy traveling by rail more than driving my car. Sure, I might miss driving with the windows down and blasting music when the weather is pleasant, but for the most part, I could do without a car.
During this visit to New York we visited many places that we did not visit on our honeymoon (when we spent a great deal of time sleeping off the exhaustion and stress that comes from a wedding and reading the newest Harry Potter book). One place that we revisited was Times Square. Normally I would probably not enjoy a neon jungle like Times Square, but I find myself loving just to watch people and watching the strange yet entertaining performances that go on in Times Square. What I enjoyed even more about Times Square this visit was Times Square at night. It truly does not sleep. It seems a living organism, changing throughout the day. When visiting Times Square at night, I couldn't help but watch all of the people (mostly tourists like myself) taking pictures and craning their necks upwards toward the once static displays that are now constantly changing screens of media overload. (Surprisingly, a lot of this has happened just over the past five years).
Having developed a love for all things Lennon over the past five years, I couldn't go back to New York without visiting Strawberry Fields in Central Park. I enjoyed watching the people walk by and listening to music despite a sign that states that musical instruments were not allowed and also despite the fact that many of the songs being played were Beatles songs written primarily by Paul (which just didn't seem quite right to me). I can imagine that Strawberry Fields is often very quiet and calm, but when the "mayor" of Strawberry Fields arrived all sorts of hell seemed to break loose. At first I was a little offended by this lunatic calling himself the mayor. I don't have a problem with the strange people one often sees in large city parks and walking large city sidewalks. In fact, quite to the contrary, I often watch and wonder what is going on in the minds of these people. I was offended at the time the "mayor" showed up, stopped the guitar player, and addressed everyone sitting in peace at their respective park benches because I believed that it should have been a quiet peaceful place. In retrospect, I actually found the interruption and tumult endearing. This peace interrupted by conflict and tension mirrors John Lennon's life in so many ways. It is fitting that his memorial reflect who he was (or who it seemed he was to me from all I have read and seen). Next time I go, I will have to bring a notebook and get some writing done.
A much more laid back place for me was Washington Square Park. There was a little less foot traffic. Liz and I sat there, eating lunch and listening to a jazz quartet while watching a man dance and jive to the music. It was relaxing and entertaining. Walking around the park and listening to the various music and watching artists make their art was wonderful. I also vow that I will one day be good enough at chess to sit down for a game with the old men who sit in the park and play all day long. Maybe I even want to be one of the old men who sit all day and play chess in Washington Square Park.
If I were to plan another vacation in the U.S. next week. I might very well find myself back in my romantic New York.
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