By telling us your country of residence we are able to provide you with the most relevant travel insurance information.
Please note that not all content is translated or available to residents of all countries. Contact us for full details.
Shares
On a cold February morning, the streets and trees dressed in white expensive looking velvet. I decided to get lost. Ready for anything and everything. Nothing felt and sounded familiar, deep Brooklyn accents and the cliche Timberland boot footprints plastered all over the streets. I chuckled to myself as i saw all the things i had seen on television growing up that make up the quintessential New York. Harmony and i land up on 42nd street and Park Avenue in Midtown Manhattan, Grand Central terminal. the grandeur meets us first. Hovering high ceilings wrap us in between the grand cold concrete walls. we make our way to an information kiosk. We are on our way to New Jersey, we tell the man behind the glass window. he gives us directions to the terminal track we are to find our train on, and as i repeat the directions to make sure i caught them, he exclaims, You're from South Africa!. i reply, how do you know. he begins to tel me about how my accent wants be like that of South Londoners but not quite in its rebellion. That's what South Africans sound like, apparently. He speaks about his experiences in Johannesburg and Cape Town and how the food and the people are the best things hes ever come across. he paints a picture of how the scenery is as so wonderful its as if God was showing off in one country. The cultures and how they are different but uniform and most importantly, the spirit of the people of this land. He speaks about our vernacular architecture in ways that get me lost in my thoughts and i find myself back home mentally. Here i am, getting lost in the middle of this gigantic room, with a stranger as my guide back in my home land. I get hints of saffron and Marsala spice as he tells me about his favourite Indian meal that he had in Cape Town and how he hasn't tasted anything like that ever since. I am home in my thoughts as he tells me about the Zulu dancers he came across in Soweto that made him miss himself and take him on a journey to discovering his lineage. i tell him i am from the Zulu tribe and i could tell he wanted to wrap his arms around me and hug me. tears that didn't fall filled his eyes and gleamed unashamedly. We still have an airbnb to get to, my friend reminds me. We say goodbye and he tells me what foods to try while i am in New York. We find our terminal and board the train to New Jersey. I closed my eyes and drifted. Getting lost in myself, but this time lost in possibility, longing to connect with a part of this city that i will paint in the same intricate manner as that bald man. wondering whether i too will filled with glee, and be on the verge of happy tears in this city as i travel for the three weeks. I imagine the famous pizza slices that are longer than a human face, the smells of pretzels and the famous sights i will see. "Tickets please!" the train worker requests. i am suddenly out of my dreaming and back to reality. I hand him mine and as we enter the city, i am awakened. Possibility fills the air and i am ready. to eat, to discover, to learn who i am away from familiarity.