New York City
New York City. Probably the most famous city in the world. Without ever having been there, we already seem to know it very well: so many songs, so many movies, so many iconic images have guided us through its urban canyons, let us dream, and created the illusion that The Big Apple is familiar to us.
But actually traveling to New York City is an explosion of the senses. Suddenly, images and films become reality. Our expectations collide with reality, explode, implode, merge. Goosebumps on our arms, a cold shiver runs down our spines. Heads tilted back to catch a glimpse of the tops of the towering skyscrapers. We walk in the shadows; the sun rarely reaches the ground of this urban jungle. We drift through Manhattan, are whirled around, swept through the arteries of the subway system, and spat out again at a new, unfamiliar-yet-familiar place. The clichés are true – and yet everything is more intense, denser, bigger than expected.
There’s barely time to catch our breath. Our pulse is racing, the impressions overwhelming. A yellow taxi speeds past, turns off. Brooklyn. Williamsburg. Ellis Island. Liberty Island. The view from afar – and still, words are lacking.
We arrive in New York City in the late afternoon. From our lodging in Brooklyn, we head over to Manhattan. The city overwhelms us with everything it has to offer: people, street noise, skyscrapers. We let the passersby carry us along, taking in the sights without really having time to process them. Suddenly, we find ourselves in Washington Square Park. The atmosphere is lively. People are listening to music, cooling off by the water, dancing, talking. We sit down with them, listen, watch. It’s a hot summer evening in late August. The asphalt seems to melt beneath our feet; the heat shimmers between the buildings. The sun burns out above us, leaving behind a blazing sky.
As it gets dark, we see the Empire State Building glowing in the distance. It towers over everything – at once close and unreachable. It draws us in, just as light attracts insects. The hazy dream of New York becomes a little more real.
Over the next few days, we’ll find ourselves plunging time and again into the most diverse scenes of New York City, descending into the subway only to resurface a short while later in a new neighborhood. Time and again, we stand with our heads tilted back, gazing at buildings that are both new and familiar, leaving us in awe. Everything here reaches skyward; everything is superlative.
The glass of modern office buildings reflects the ornate Art Deco facades of historic structures. Steel and brick, concrete and glass. The straight streets define the lines of sight. Wherever we look – we are tiny ants in a city of giants.
It’s already obvious: The few days we’ve planned for New York aren’t even enough to scratch the surface. We rush from one corner of Manhattan to the next, spellbound and exhausted at the same time. A downpour of impressions rains down on us: One World Trade Center. 9/11. Central Park. Empire State Building. Brooklyn Bridge …
The downpour shows no sign of letting up.
Time for a change of perspective. We join the crowds of people heading for the ship. The August sun beats down on us, beads of sweat forming on our foreheads. Then the ferry docks, people flood onto the pier – and finally, we’re able to board too. We glide gently across the water, circled by seagulls.
And suddenly there she stands, on a small island in the Upper Bay: the Statue of Liberty. Shimmering green, with her torch raised – a symbol of freedom. Should humanity one day disappear, she may still stand here, her right hand stretched toward the sky for eternity.
We enjoy the unique view of the southern tip of Manhattan. Then we head over to Ellis Island, just a few hundred meters away. Anyone who crossed the Atlantic in the first half of the 20th century to immigrate to the United States most likely arrived here – to be registered by the immigration authorities. Here, fate took its course for millions of people. Here they set foot in a new land, their heads full of dreams, their suitcases filled with the last possessions from the Old World.
A gigantic flag hangs in front of the stock exchange’s facade, flanked by smaller flags. A nation built on capitalism. The law of the jungle. Stars and Stripes, coins and notes. Smoking men in suits, talking on the phone, laughing, silence. Black coffee, glances at the watch. Skyscrapers and high-rises, built on gold, serve as temples. Led by the bull with its crushing force. The bear as a specter, emerging from its dark forests to spread fear and destruction.
All it takes are the right stories and a firm belief in them to turn boring profanity into a sanctuary.
The atrium of Grand Central Terminal, vaulted by a starry sky, evokes a time when the railroad was the key means of connecting an entire continent culturally, economically, and logistically. The hall exudes a sublime charm that today is found almost exclusively in luxurious shopping malls: marble floors, stone ornamentation, and elegant lighting. Indirect lighting and a clear guidance of sightlines and the flow of people.
A gateway to another state, to another city – perhaps just to another neighborhood. Sixty-eight tracks branching out into the vast countryside, leading away from New York City. The platforms are filled with moments of farewell and reunion. Filled with kisses – both tender and painful. Filled with embraces, tears, and laughter. Moments spanning more than a hundred years.
Time and again, we catch sight of its towering antenna rising above the urban canyons. By day it shimmers gold; in the dark, it glows in shifting colors. On a hot afternoon, the moment finally arrives: We step into the historic, if somewhat unremarkable, lobby of the Empire State Building and are quickly directed to the elevators.
Once at the top, we look down on this incredible city – on all the clichés, all the dreams, all the images we had of New York City. There lies the iconic wedge-shaped Flatiron Building. In the distance, the One World Trade Center towers above. Before us, Central Park stretches out as a vast green space to the north. And there is the Chrysler Building, once narrowly defeated in the race for the title of the world’s tallest skyscraper.
Below us: buildings and streets. Cars and yellow taxis like ants. A bustle, a scene teeming with life, a puzzle made up of countless pieces. We forget the people around us; we forget the time. The Hudson River, the Brooklyn Bridge – everything lies before us, everything suddenly seems so small. New York City is the world – and here it seems compressed into a single, dense point.
As the sun approaches the horizon over a vast landscape, an almost silent calm descends with the night. In a big city, however, the energy shifts: the bustling activity of the day gives way to a slightly tipsy serenity. Pounding beats spill out of nightclubs; groups of people fill the parks, waiting outside restaurants and clubs to be let in. Joyful laughter, tension, and racing hearts.
A sea of lights and dark corners lie side by side. In the glow of the streetlamps, a gloomy parallel world reveals itself.
People shed their work uniforms and swap them for the costumes of the night: short skirts, evening gowns, ball gowns, tuxedos, wide-open shirts, high heels, linen pants.
A crescent moon hangs over the city. The summer evening is long; on the western horizon, the sky glows violet-red. At the center of this gigantic metropolis lies Times Square – an exuberant heart, pulsating, restless, alive. Neon signs flicker; music booms through the urban canyons. Glass and concrete facades soar in every direction. Happily disoriented.
Darkness lies over the city like a shimmering velvet cloth. We stand on the banks of the East River and gaze at the Brooklyn Bridge. It connects the borough of the same name with the southern tip of Manhattan. When it was completed at the end of the 19th century, it was considered an architectural masterpiece. The bridge combines neo-Gothic stone arches with modern steel cables a forward-thinking design for its time – and became a New York City landmark as soon as it opened.
Below us, ships glide silently along the river. Cars rush by, their headlights tracing bright trails through the night. For a brief moment, a strong gust of wind sweeps away the oppressive August heat and sends a chill down our spines. American flags flutter in the wind, pointing toward the One World Trade Center, which towers in the distance, glittering.
The city never rests. It flows, pulsates, and is bursting at the seams.
And then it’s Monday morning. It’s hazy, with a veil hanging over the houses and the water. The sun can’t seem to break through the low-hanging cloud cover. The streets of Williamsburg are deserted. Scraps of paper flutter in the wind. A hangover mood.
A man stretches his tendons and muscles, runs a slow lap around the sports field. Then he spreads his arms and looks across to Manhattan. The tip of the Empire State Building rises in the distance – like a summit cross – between trees and rooftops.
A short time later, we’re sitting on the banks of the East River in Williamsburg. Old industrial structures, rotting pilings in the water. The noise of Manhattan, the pulsing energy, the buzzing electricity – on this gray Monday morning, it all seems to have blown away.
In the afternoon, we find ourselves back in the heart of Manhattan. The sun has chased away the clouds and is once again beating down on our heads. We’re waiting for the bus that will take us to Philadelphia for just a few dollars.
We’ve spent a few days in New York City. What would be more than enough time for most cities in the world to explore the main sights and neighborhoods is barely enough here to rush from one architectural icon to the next. There are only a few moments to spend away from the main attractions – moments when we can simply let everyday life, the pulse of this city, and its countless faces wash over us.
New York is always worth a visit, and there are probably a hundred new things to discover every time. This city is a beehive – buzzing, restless, full of life. Always changing, always filled with sweet honey that attracts and entices, that holds you fast. Into which you slowly sink. A golden, viscous honey from which you can never escape.
