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I går, d. 26 september 2018 havde jeg en lille slags jubilæum. Jeg fejrede det ved at tage på Souplantation med min familie i Las Vegas, hvor jeg bor nu.
Den 26 september 2006 tog jeg for første gang til New York City og selvom det ikke var meningen det skulle blive andet, end en rejse over Atlanten – så kom den rejse alligevel til at have betydning for hvordan de næste mange år af mit liv tog form.
Jeg blev nemlig spaskhamrende forelsket i byen! Jeg har gennem årene forsøgt at forklare det til folk, hvordan det kan være man bare ved “det er rigtigt” efter kun en uges besøg men .. ikke desto mindre, vidste jeg det.
I løbet af de 12 år der er gået, rejste jeg frem og tilbage til New York City som turist tretten gange. Jeg var i et 4.5 måneder lang praktikophold ifm. en uddannelse jeg tog i Danmark. Før endt uddannelse, havde jeg allerede søgt ind på studie i Brooklyn, NY og blev optaget. D. 1 juli 2011, havde jeg tre kufferter da jeg krydsede atlanten for sidste gang som turist. Jeg flyttede til Forest Hills, NY! Det er et nabolag i Queens, som er super familievenligt, still og roligt, flot og alligevel har en masse at byde på – og kun 25-30 min. med subway ind til Midtown Manhattan.
Jeg boede i Forest Hills i lige knap 7 år (med 6 måneder i nabolaget Elmhurst) inden jeg i maj 2018 flyttede til Las Vegas i håbet om at udvide forretningen og skabe nogle ændringer på privatfronten.
Det ændrer dog ikke på, at New York City er endnu mere mit hjem end det nogensinde har været. Derfor er det også vigtigt, at jeg holder gang i den forretning jeg byggede op over årene mens jeg boede i NYC. For så betyder det nemlig, at jeg ofte kommer tilbage og kan hjælpe turister med at komme ind under huden på byen.
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Her er et udlæg fra min første rejse til byen (dog på engelsk): ““September 26, 2006.
It was an early morning, didn’t sleep all night. My bags were almost packed and all I had to do was get as much coffee down without puking – I was a nervous wreck.
I didn’t blame anybody but myself. I thought I could handle this but when the day finally arrived I had no idea why I’d decided to put myself through this.
An hour later I was in a bus with my suitcase in front of me wondering if I would even make it on time. The bus wasn’t moving because we had to wait for the bridge to go down. — Later, I was late for my train. The train I got on didn’t go all the way. Had to transfer at Copenhagen Central Station. Approximately 1 hour 20 minutes later than expected I arrived in Copenhagen Airport.
My best friend awaited me. As always he knew exactly how to treat me and made sure I got to relax a bit. I got checked-in! Got my first $$ and was just about to hit the escalator when it hit me again – “What in the world am I doing?”
I was almost tearing up as was my friend. I thought to myself: “Too selfish a decision, why am I so immature?” – Five seconds later I couldn’t see him anymore and I had no choice but to move on.
Through my first security. Found my way to the gate. Got on board, found my seat, sat down, heavily breathing. Not only was this my first time in an airplane. This was also my first time to go away on holiday without my family. And the first time to leave Europe.
I called my mother – back then I didn’t realize that you’re not suppose to use your phone while on the plane. But it was somewhat comforting to hear her voice as we were taking off the runway. It was very emotional – and then – she was gone!
8 hours and some later I arrived in Newark Airport. A danish architect, Troels, doing an internship in New York helped me get to Manhattan. To this day I haven’t forgot his help.
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A few hours later I sat foot on 42nd street, Port Authority, Times Square around the corner. I remember the smell of that day. And for the very first second I was disappointed. Finally I was in New York and then what? I realized it wasn’t just about traveling to a new place – it was a psychological escape from a world I didn’t appreciate and a way of proving myself.
The danish architect followed me to Columbus Circle where he wished me a good holiday and then he left me through the park. There I was – a pale, chubby Dane – alone on the streets of Manhattan without a clue of what I was doing. I tried to mimic what I’ve seen in the movies; hailing a cab. Apparently it worked and I arrived at my hotel on 71st street.
The room was fine, the TV was showing commercials. My body was aching and I blame the jet-lag for the moving walls.
I heard the ambulances, the police sirens, the traffic. I heard people yelling on the streets.
That night I fell a sleep not knowing that the very next morning I would fall in love!”
Skal jeg vise dig, hvorfor byen er helt fantastisk i mine øjne? Book dig ind på en af vores mange sightseeing tours. Så vil du se, hvorfor!
