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Sampling New York in 33 Hours (Give or Take)



I, Nwakaego, visited New York for the first time two weeks ago, and I still can’t find the right words for the experience. Fun, of course. Stimulating. Boundary-toeing perhaps? Trying to write it all down leads to a long list that doesn't at all seem like it could have occurred in the same day, let alone in the span of hours. Everything was new, even the mundane, and I can’t say if it was the city or the company that made it so. I’m inclined to go with the latter because what is a city without its people?


It tickles me that I spend almost exactly 33 hrs in New York (calculated from when my foot stepped off and onto each train). I love a good angel number and coincidentally, three is the number of houses between the two planetary lines New York falls on for me. It's also associated with communication, short trips, and creative expansion.


After a harried week, a quick nap on the train, and two bouts of traffic that turned what was supposed to be - according to Google - a 7 minute trip and 14 minute trip into 30 and 34 minute stop and goes, my first stop in New York was drinks with Hailo.


I’ve been acquainted with Hailo for two summers now, a time span that feels both longer and shorter than it is, and this was our first time meeting in person. She is exactly who she is in person that she is online, except more. For lack of a better comparison, the difference was almost like watching a regular movie versus a 4D movie (even though I don't like 4D movies). There's just something more - something elevated - once dimension is added: voices altered only by a few feet of air rather than miles of digital space; being able to break bread together. It made me wonder how pen pals of the past would feel when they met for the first time. Some never even having seen so much as a photo or painting of the other so everything was completely uncharted. For us, now, I'd still argue that everything was new even when it wasn't.


Two drinks, delicious bread, crisp olives (that I almost cracked a tooth on), summer squash, and ceviche with divided opinions (my first time trying it, and to my tongue it was mushy, to hers it was the best to date) later, we left after chatting with Mar (the first time any of us met in person), and walked over to Bella Ve's going away party in what I will forever call the heart of Brooklyn even if it's not (I haven’t a clue, but my head has determined that Brooklyn belongs to Bella - so her go to bar can only be the center - and lower Manhattan is Hailo's playground. Everything else is up for grabs).


We stayed for a while before getting on the train to Manhattan where we walked, got a Borough Beef primer, had more drinks, philosophized some more, appropriated a cherry through sign language, played Where's Waldo trying to find her friend by way of the find me app, tried forbidden churros (me), and window flirted (Hailo), before I retired to my hotel for the night. All in five hours. Never hang out with Hailo unless you want to enter a time void in which everything can happen while feeling like no time has elapsed. 


The next day was no less eventful. The Book Swap Darty was amazing. I got to the bookstore early and perused while waiting for everyone else to arrive. I saw Anderson II sweep in then out in the span of minutes only to return much later with his necessities. Hailo floated in halfway between his two entrances, and the rest of the attendees filed in slowly then seemingly all at once - one or two wandering in as we set up the swap table until eventually, it was a full house. I met Ananya and two new interns, Ife and Sarah. Chatted with so many New York literatis and friends of literatis, and had a really good time.


Originally, I hadn’t planned to swap anything. I had brought along a book of Igbo folktales I picked up while I was in Nigeria - actually my mom got it and I relieved her of it - to read when I had time. Spontaneously and with a heavy heart, I decided to place it on the table, but I’m glad I did. For one, I got to talk about the Tortoise and my theory on why he is the folk hero in Igboland. I also met so many interesting and fun people over the course of the event and even embarked on a short excursion with the loveliest friend group I had played cards with during the event. In exchange for my book of folktales, I recieved a book of beauty which was quite on the nose for me and my Libra dominance. There’s a sign there somewhere, and I think I’ll write about it soon.


Something so strange happened within me while in New York. My inheritance - which in addition to a lack of hips - included an obscene level of paranoia, so usually I’m a little wary no matter where I am or what I’m doing. It takes a monumental effort to beat it down in order to immerse myself in a moment, and it never really works, not even while inebriated. I didn’t feel a lick of that in New York. The evergreen weight of worry was just gone.


Calling back to the two planetary lines separated by the number three I mentioned, Ananya actually asked me about it during the event. Astrocartography, the branch of astrology that studies how different locations affect our birth charts when we travel, came up during one of our past conversations. She remembered and inquired about how I felt these lines were impacting my visit. At the time, I didn’t really have a grasp on it, but I do now.


For me, New York exists at the crossing of my Chiron and Uranus lines. Simply put, the lines are those of ‘the wounded healer’ and ‘change’/‘convention breaking.’ All of my paranoia, both inborn and trained, just shed away. I was comfortable and willing to walk around in the middle of the night, and comfortable leaving an event with people I had literally just met. I easily trekked multiple blocks across the city to meet my sister’s boyfriend, a stranger to me, and laughed when a car sped by too close. I felt not like a different person, but a truer, lighter version of me, and I was sober all of day two. My usual tenets were whisked away by some force or another. “You behave in an unconventional and spontaneous manner, and appear independent and like living as free as possible. Nothing is holy and without respect, you attack every social norm.” (Astro.com)


I’m lowkey still a New York - if not hater then judger, simply because I’m my father’s daughter and he’s nothing if not a hater of the popular - but it was a healing experience. I was free of my fear for a while, and it makes me want to try it again sometime. It doesn’t have to be New York; I can be free anywhere. Now that I’ve felt it I know it’s possible.


The next morning at 3 am, I shuffled into an Uber, was herded to the right entrance at Penn Station by a kindly old Japanese business man, and got onto my train to take another nap before waking up in DC in time to make it to work. New York was tasty (especially the deadly olives and money-laundering churros), not as smelly or ratty as rumored, and definitely worth another flight of fancy.


Til next time,



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