Mon livre commencera peut-être ainsi…
Posted on October 30, 2011 by admin
I wake up, a ray of light in the left eye, the voice of a steward with a strong American accent in the ears. « Ladies and gentlemen, we begin our descent to JFK airport, please return to your seat and fasten your seatbelt. » I look through the tiny window. We are above the ocean. Then I see a long seashore reminding me of my flights to Nice. My neighbor tells me it is Long Island. At least that’s what I understand from her ‘oh so long’ sentences. She continues to speak and I’m thinking that our English classes in high school don’t prepare us for real conversation. I smile politely and return to my view, watching the world from the sky. We are now over New York. I have butterflies in my stomach. My dream is so close. And I’m happy. I’ve often heard « If you make it here, you can make it anywhere. » We’ll see if it’s true.
I come from Paris. And I’ve always dreamed about New York. My life in France was soooo different than what I wanted as a kid. Like nothing to do with it actually. So I decided to make my dream come true. But it didn’t happen overnight. I’ve been studying New York. I’ve been reading about New York. I’ve been learning by heart the map of New York. And most importantly, I’ve been applying to the Green Card lottery every year. But I never went to America. Destiny had my back because one day, I received a letter saying I could apply for a Green Card. And that was it. Here I am. In a charter plane from a weird Dutch company with no TV screen and horrible food. But guess what? I’d rather be here than in my comfy little Parisian life, dating this guy that fits to my dad’s standards but that I can’t love, doing this job that I can’t love either and living in the studio that costs me half of my paycheck. So who cares if this plane has issues. As long as it drops me to JFK in one piece, I love it.
My dad’s cousin is supposed to pick me up at the airport. I’m not super excited to stay with him for a few days, but at least I won’t be all alone for my first steps in the Big Apple. He lives in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn and he works at the Coney Island promenade. I know Manhattan by heart, but the rest is kinda blurry. So when I Googled Brighton Beach, the only sites that mentioned it were either nursing homes or written in Russian. As for Coney Island, I don’t know. I watched ‘The Warriors’ but it didn’t really make me feel better about the neighborhood.
After spending a few hours at his place, I really don’t understand why my dad’s cousin came to live in a neighborhood full of retired Russian Jews. No one speaks English and the average age is 70 years old. Yes, fruits and vegetables are cheap (as is the rent I’m sure) and you’re by the water… but still! Not a single skyscraper, not a yellow cab, not a hot dog vendor in the street. Just old people dressed like the 80’s are still cool, sitting in front of the their buildings watching the world go by. It’s not really the New York of my dreams. I understand that soon I will have to stand on my own.
I feel like I’m anywhere except New York. The sofa, which I’ll use as a bed for the next few days, is not comfortable. He doesn’t have freezer or a microwave. Worse, he has no mirror in the bathroom. Well you know, as a French woman new in the city, the first thing I do is obviously comparing and criticizing. Sorry. But I have to say that my expectations are somehow broken. Plus, it’s cold. Happy New Year.
Eventually, Brighton Beach is not that bad. And when the beach is covered with snow, it’s actually pretty amazing. Sea, sand, snow and sun. I’ve rarely seen such contradictory things live together with so much harmony. But it’s a bit like New York, isn’t it? A big melting pot full of contradictions.
I move in a sublet in the city in a few days. Thank you Craigslist. Exit far far away kingdom of Brooklyn. Manhattan here I come. I found a small room in the Lower East Side. That’s all I could afford with my $ 800 monthly budget. Crazy rents here are for real. A decent 1 BR costs like $ 3000 in a cool neighborhood. Disillusions, more and more disillusions. I visited unclean, dirty, tiny rooms. People rent any type of space, even a hallway. A 45 year-old hippie with two cats wanted me to rent a pass thru room for 1000 dollars. Finding your marks in New York is not so fun. Especially when you’re alone, new, foreign, with no social number or bank account. There’s nothing about this frustration in any of the series I’ve watched. Sex and the City and Gossip Girl are full of lies I guess.
My room is barely 12m2, I have a mattress on the floor, a window I can’t open and kind of a closet. Perfect! I am moving on January 15 and the cousin offered to help me with my 2 suitcases. I am a little bit paranoid because of all the stories I heard about apartments and creepy landlords. So I sign a hand-written agreement with my sublet that now thinks I’m crazy ‘cause she never did such a thing. I give her $ 400 for the rest of the month, a $ 800 deposit, and that’s it, I am officially a resident of Manhattan. My New York dream is looking a bit brighter now. But still, I’m far from my ideal apartment on the Upper East Side. Anyway, one thing at a time huh!
My next step is to find a job. But with my little savings I decide to take some time off to actually discover New York. It’s freezing outside so before anything, I go to Macy’s to spend a good amount of money on a warm coat and snow boots. Then I go to B&H, this amazing camera shop and buy me a nice little compact Canon camera. 500 dollars later, I look like a tourist on my way to a ski-vacation, with my North Face coat, my fake fur boots and my camera attached to my neck. But no, I’m just getting ready to spend time outside in New York City, in the cold month of January 2009. Oh and tomorrow, Obama becomes president, I’m witnessing History! Isn’t it cool?
Meriem
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