When we think of New York we automatically associate it with the city of Manhattan; the city where dreams and miracles come to fruition, where architectural giants stand amongst men and the network of streets is like a giant ants’ nest teeming with activity from the daily grind. However, unbeknownst to many, is the diverse and progressive surf culture that exists on the other side of the pond, or in this case, Jamaica Bay. Just 16 miles south of the city lies The Rockaway Peninsula. For one reason or the other, I had been finding myself sporadically bobbing in and out of this place for the last 2 years but never with the freedom to enjoy an immersive experience. Not this time! Trying to live like a local without giving that facade away, I settled into my new, yet temporary normal of sunrise surf sessions in the brisk waves of the Atlantic Ocean and going wherever my heart compelled in the afternoon. Beach 67th became my homebreak, stopping daily at the two resident surf equipment suppliers, Break Water Surf Shop and Surf Tribe NYC for my necessary board and wax. Across the street, up the stairs, over the boardwalk and down to the beach I walked everyday, pausing periodically to exchange pleasantries about the surf conditions with the die-hard surf junkies who were feverishly trying to get their fix before their obligations to the real world. At times I stopped on the lengthy boardwalk that ran parallel to the beach to take it all in. People watching had become a spontaneous pastime of mine whenever I was in NYC and Rockaway was no different. However, my mind still struggled to reconcile the quintessential city with this unassuming coastal suburb. People zipped past on foot, roller blades, skateboards and bicycles, surfboards securely but tenderly tucked away under arm as they raced to adjacent breaks to beat the crowds. Morning walkers and joggers, some with pets, some without, a few stopping intermittently to peep the action in the water. In stark contrast to my irie life in the Caribbean, this was ordinary in a fascinating way. Few remnants of the restless metropolitan co-existed within this unobtrusive space, but the elevated track of the famed A train that ran through The Rockaways, along with the silhouette of the iconic city skyline in the distance, was a constant reminder that another world was an uncomplicated train ride away. With my affinity for street art begging to be appeased, I was lured to Rockaway Beach Boulevard where intricate yet spectacular murals adorned property walls and fences. These splashes of colour were a welcomed respite from the mundane palette of urban reality. Gazing nonchalantly at passers by, I wondered if they’d become oblivious to the masterpieces that laid waiting during their commute. The possibility certainly existed but I stayed optimistic that that wasn’t the case. Thankfully, a handful of cafes and watering holes which serviced everyone from the millennial social butterflies to quiet cliques, lined this busy stretch for those who’d rather enjoy a bite or a drink while dissecting and assimilating these sprawling illustrations. Time spent cruising the streets of the Rockaways named and numbered by their proximity to the beach and bay, always ended at my favourite look out to view the sunset. At the shoreline of Jamaica Bay in the neighbourhood of Bayswater, it became a ritual to catch the final rays of the day’s light here. Watching the hues of dusk morph from shades of orange to red and purple with hints of pink, airplanes above descending into the nearby airport and the rigid outline of Manhattan as magnificent as ever, I’d found serenity in the most unlikely of places. Invigorated by the challenge of trading island-worthy swimwear for the warm embrace of a neoprene wetsuit, from year round summer dresses to the cosiest cuddles only a throw over sweater can provide, this was a newness my spirit unknowingly yearned for. A small tropical fish, in a big, cold water pond, I arrived in Rockaway, New York a transient being amongst the masses but somehow found a place I could grow used to calling “home”.