As I walked through the customs gate I looked at my passport. The re-entry stamp into the USA, bright red and still a little wet cramped itself onto a crowded page with my Turkish visa and entrance stamp into Japan. I am home and I can't believe I did it.
On my shuttle ride home, a rastifarian driver slowly, almost dancingly walked to the car and opened the trunk as I dropped off my backpack. Driving through Brooklyn, Queens, Upper East, and Spanish Harlem to the Upper west side I browse the neighborhoods again. In NYC, I could have met people from every single country I have been to. In NYC, I could have eaten every single cuisine I have tasted. In NYC, I could have easily gotten lost in neighborhoods where the language and customs of each country I have been to are still practiced everyday. And yet, in NYC, I wouldn't have seen the elegance and musicality of Turkey. I wouldn't have gotten lost in the subways of Moscow. I wouldn't have taken trains through medieval towns of Italy and get dizzy by the whirling scooters in Naples. I wouldn't have felt the cold wuthering wind of Iceland and the volcanic landscape that looks like the surface of the moon. I wouldn't have seen the azure waters of the mediterranean nor the thick smokey air of Beijing. I wouldn't have met my grandmother, good old friends, nor had the same conversations with the same open-ness with strangers.
My trip is not done. As I have yet to post the rest of my photos and stories and head onto Chicago. But as I hopped on the number 1 train to go to Times Square today I was amazed to see how in two months, I went around the world and NYC has't changed a bit. Keep checking for more photos and video clips. To my NYC friends, I am home. Hope to see you soon.
No comments:
Post a Comment