The Big Smoke

There are things that people don’t tell you about New York. Sure they tell you about the buildings and the cupcakes and the shopping and the nightlife. But they don’t tell you that Welch’s grape soda and a pickled gherkin tastes so good it should be illegal. Nor do they tell you that New York winter gets so cold that walking outside feels like being slapped in the face. Or that the mugginess in NYC gets so intense it can drive you mad, like 'Apocalypse Now'.

These are the things people don’t talk about so much, and they’re also the reasons you should move to New York. I guess other reasons you might want to move to New York would be because you have a new job—and that’s what I did. I moved in January of this year and I’ve been working at Time Out NY as a Music writer ever since.

People talk about moving to NYC like it’s total pie-in-the-sky, but it’s absolutely possible. It takes a lot of hard work, and a lot of luck, and it can get expensive — but you can do it. You will of course, need a visa. You’re not going to get a Green Card unless you marry Andie McDowell and start speaking in an outrageous French accent, so basically, you’re going to need a job. If you can get a transfer from your London office to some swanksville equivalent in NYC, then DO IT. Another easy-ish option is if you land a post working for a Very Big and Wealthy Company, who have teams of lawyers to sort out your visa for you. More likely, you’ll land a job at a company who are prepared to sponsor you, but you’ll have to hire a lawyer and handle the application yourself. This is actually not as bad as it sounds, nor as expensive. In any case, you will probably handle the whole thing far more smoothly than I did — I found out my visa had been approved (after weeks of waiting) approximately four hours before my leaving party, and two weeks before my flight.

More lesser known facts about NYC. It is actually made of magic. Ask most of the people who’ve moved here from elsewhere (which seems to be most of New York), and it’s the same story — it’s like you get magnetically pulled towards it, and the love affair doesn’t seem to wane. Last week I was interviewing filmmaker Jonas Mekas who moved here from Lithuania in 1949 (he’s now in his 80s). I asked him what word he would use to describe New York, and he said, 'Exciting! The word is exciting. To me, when I come back from any country — and I love Paris — but still when I come back, already driving from the airport I already am trembling with excitement!' And then he laughed a lot.

I sometimes feel like New Yorkers are so helpful (with giving directions and such) because so many people have moved here from somewhere else and gone through the horridness of not knowing where the hell they are — so now I’m settled in my erm, ‘hood, I do take a special pride in giving people directions (even if they do clearly mistrust my British accent).

It’s a tough city for sure. The distressing things you see in London, you’ll see here too — homelessness, mentally disturbed people on buses, all that stuff. You can find pissy streets in any city. But the buskers here are so much better. At my subway stop, there’s a little guy who sings like Ibrahim Ferrer from Buena Vista Social Club. At 14th St there’s a bunch of burly middle aged men singing a capella gospel songs in perfect harmony (they met at a Shelter and found God). Kids get on the train and do breakdancing routines around the poles, then pass the hat around. Seriously, I know it sounds like a scene from 'Fame', but it actually happens. Oh, and the TV news is way more 'Brasseye' than 'Brasseye'.

Moving city is also like putting your brain into warp speed. It’s like—you know that scene in 'Supergirl', where she first lands on earth, and has to read off a blackboard at a million miles an hour? Every day is like that, your brain taking on so much information. To me, that’s a fun thing, to someone else, it might be hell. And there’s a bunch of weird things to get used to. American spelling, American dating, American words for toilets, and (most confusing of all) the American habit of saying 'What’s happening?' as a greeting. To which you can’t answer 'I’m fine' because that’s not the question being asked. Instead, you say, 'Not much.' Even if loads of stuff is happening. Or you just nod. It’s taken me a full six months to come even close to feeling comfortable in this exchange.

Ultimately though, if you decided to move to New York, you’d carve your own adventure, and find a totally different set of random things you love. For me, it’s little things—like the bunch of old Hispanic gentlemen who sit in folding chairs around a car with the doors open, blaring out Frank Sinatra. The weird taste of the milk. The fact that you can buy Advil in tiny packs of two at the corner shop. The fact that corner shops are called Bodegas, and every other place name is straight out of a Paul Simon song. And that Jay-Z and Kanye West turn up at actual gigs that actual people go to. The abundance of tiny dogs in hideous coats and street corner psychics and glittery Obama t-shirts and cheap Mexican food and very fat people and very thin people. You know, New York. And the fact that I’m in it.