May 31st. Day 3.
I woke up earlier than everyone else, discussed with my mom that everything was fine, and then decided I needed to pull myself together and make the most of the next 2 days. While my friends were sleeping, I studied the subway and city maps and set out on my own to buy the Converse sneakers I had been dreaming of for a long time.
It turned out I walked around a lot. The store is near Prince St., and there are so many other shops there. I didn't really buy anything else, just walked around with my mouth open, watching everything and everyone. I wandered into Chinatown and other nearby neighborhoods. I still love the city. I walked for a long time in total. The main thing was that I bought the sneakers, and then I headed home just as the rain started to approach.
The funniest thing is that I knew the way to the store, but not really the way back. I mean, I remembered the name of the station, but not how to get from the station to the apartment. So I wandered through the summer downpour, looking for my lair. But it was a moment of happiness. I even want to recall: "Everything happens for a reason." Maybe I needed to be late yesterday? To see the city better? To get caught in this rain? To feel even happier? By the way, it's funny that yesterday, when I was in a taxi to the Amtrak station and the clouds were gathering, I said out loud: "Rain is coming. It's a pity I won't catch New York in the rain. I've always dreamed of it." And so I missed my train and still caught this rain. Remember. Everything happens for a reason, yes.
The evening ended with a trip to the famous "Russian" Brighton Beach, on the shore of the Atlantic Ocean. Walking along the promenade, it feels like you are somewhere at Issyk-Kul. People are no longer swimming, but playing backgammon and swearing. Even the sun is brighter here than in Manhattan, a pleasant breeze blows from the ocean, and the air smells of salt water. And the neighborhood is truly Russian, with many Russian-speaking people: Russians, Jews, Uzbeks, Armenians, and many other immigrants from former Soviet countries. From the shore, by the shortest route, past beautiful houses, we moved deep into Brighton, to the 1001 Nights cafe, which is a real piece of Uzbekistan across the ocean here. Before arriving in the USA, I thought that Uzbek food in other countries would be significantly different, but I have to admit that plov, naryn, and shashlik are not much different from our native ones. They even have their own specific patriotic taste because you are eating this delicious food far from home.
After the cafe, we headed home.
June 1st. Day 4.
The first day of summer was marked by my departure from the city of dreams, but more on that later. There were a lot of events that day.
Having packed all my things and sent them immediately for storage at the Greyhound station, we headed to Central Park. A piece of nature in the huge stone jungle of the city. It was Sunday - a day off, so there were a lot of people here. New Yorkers are constantly on the move; they don't have time to go out into nature. At such moments, the park becomes an ideal place. People walk here, sunbathe, read books, walk dogs, have picnics, etc. The park is huge, and it's impossible to walk around it all at once. We only managed half of it. Everything around is green, there are many fountains and lakes, squirrels run on the lawns, and people feed them. Some visitors go jogging here, and some just walk with their girlfriend/boyfriend. A beautiful place and ideal for such a huge city. You can get out here on the weekend to take a break from the hustle and bustle of the metropolis.
We exited the park right at the entrance to the Museum of Natural History, and we were incredibly lucky. Just today, when we were passing by the museum, admission was free. Everyone knows this place thanks to the Ben Stiller movies "Night at the Museum." The emotions are just indescribable! First, the museum is simply gigantic: it covers 4 floors, not counting the 0th level with the subway and buffet. Second, the museum covers the entire history very deeply: here you can find exhibits of peoples of the world or animals, and learn the history of various studies. Tip #8: If you decide to come here, go as early as possible (since the museum closes closer to 6) and on Sundays (when admission is free). You will need a lot of time. Unfortunately, we didn't have time to see everything, as the museum began to close, and the valiant guards caught us and ushered us out. But the museum still left incredible impressions. By the way, I even found the famous stone from that movie that repeated "dum-dum."
After that, we walked a lot. Again, a cycle of places: Apple Store, Grand Plaza Hotel (famous from the movie Home Alone 2), and even the famous train station. (I will talk about all this in more detail later.)
In conclusion, I would like to note one more thing. This concerns the talents who present their art on the streets of the city, the subway, or even in Central Park. There are really a lot of them; for example, you can meet them at almost every subway station. Each of these talents tries not just to earn money; it is important for them to hold the crowd, to make everyone want to watch the performance to the end. And most of them succeed. In 4 days in New York, I met several such musicians who really touched my soul. One of them played the saw instead of a violin, and another played the guitar without an arm up to the elbow. Then I met the one in the photo. He played music similar to something like African ritual songs translated into a modern form. And at the entrance to Central Park, our attention was captured by several African-American guys who were doing a very cool dance-acrobatic show with the participation of people from the crowd. Of course, if such individuals manage to attract and excite the crowd, they will get more money. In general, New York is one of those cities where people can freely express themselves without fear of the opinions of others. It is a city that gives freedom to talented people, freedom to their thoughts and actions. The freedom to be yourself.
After all this, this time I went to my station in advance so as not to be late again. By the way, for your note, people often stick to you at the stations who try to help you with something. Most often, they approach and just show the direction, looking at your ticket, supposedly selflessly, but then they will definitely ask you for a few dollars as a reward. In general, they say that this is a scam for foreigners like us. So think for yourself: whether to give or not. Whether to accept their attempts to help or not. I warned you.
And in general, 4 days in the city of my dreams, everything as it should be: joy, happiness, and nerves, but now everything is over and it's time to move on to a new stage of this journey. This city impressed me insanely. And, as I already said, I was not disappointed in it at all. And, honestly, I miss this city. I terribly miss all that hustle and bustle that revolves around you. Around an ordinary tourist who just wants to go up the Empire State Building, take a picture in Times Square, or just ride in a yellow taxi. All these 4 days were a huge cycle of events, emotions, feelings, and inexhaustible energy, fueled by the desire to see as much as possible in this short time. In fact, this city is quite insidious. Everyone who comes here thinks that they are a perfect fit for this city, and this city is a perfect fit for them. But when the right moment comes, the Big Apple will play a terrible trick on the trust of the newly arrived guest of the state.
But that's not the point.
I have dreamed of coming here since childhood, dreamed of smelling this scent of freedom, dreamed of getting lost in all this hustle and bustle of the streets. And it happened. Was I disappointed? You can answer this question yourself, based on my blog.
One thing I can say for sure: I will definitely return here. I will come and stay. I will present the city with the fact that I am one of those who can pick the biggest apple in the world of all possible.
To be Continued.
