new york, je t'aime: pt. ii

as promised, an array of additional new york photographs. there's not much to say in this introduction except that i've realized i belong in this city.

in front of the lincoln center for the performing arts.

glistening rain on stone slabs.

at an intersection. 

a high-rise enveloped by smog.

saxophonist.

street vendor curiosities.

times square.

inside a local jamba juice in downtown nyc.

christmas ornaments on sixth avenue.

a view of the rockefeller plaza ice skating rink.

security guards dancing for donations.

a gothic-style cathedral juxtaposed with a new york high-rise.

new york city at dusk.

new york, je t'aime

new york has always embodied this romanticized fantasy for me. where vendors sell hot dogs slathered in ketchup and mustard, while canary-yellow taxis zip up and down the boulevards, their drivers cursing each other out in thick, new yorkian brogues. or times square, where you're surrounded by dozens of neon lights that -- when you avert your gaze -- fuse into a vibrant blend of crimson and indigo and shamrock green. where musicians who, just last week, were strumming their guitars beside the subway are propelled into superstardom in just the blink of an eye.

i couldn't contain my excitement when we reached the outer edges of the city. i immediately whipped out my camera and started photographing everything (clearly designating myself as a tourist). the rain came down in torrents, and many an umbrella had lost their fight against the wind so i contented myself with feeling the small drops of water hit my face, sliding down the creases in my eyelids and bridge of my nose.

i tried soaking up everything, whipping my head this way and that so as not to miss a single attraction. when we reached broadway i felt like i was on a cloud, floating a foot above the sidewalk. it was surreal. everything was surreal.


that evening, at 11pm, we headed back home. i snuggled up against the bus window, the heat of my breath leaving trails of fog on the glass. i was beyond exhausted, and -- throughout the day -- had gotten drenched, almost blown over by wind, overcharged for a hamburger, and glared at by passers-by. however, i couldn't have been more content.

it was oh-so worth it.


first official 'glimpse' of new york city through the bus window.

lovers.

friendly hot dog vendors.



new  york high-rise.

 

hurrying through the torrential downpour.

 

medley of lady liberty statuettes.

sitting alone at a diner.

taylor walking along broadway.



strolling down the boulevard.






stranger.

 

times square billboards.





waiting at the crosswalk.

traffic, smoke, and times square.



a busy intersection.

victory day

russian victory day is like july 4th, st. patrick's day, and the macy's thanksgiving parade all rolled into one. in st. petersburg, throngs of people swarm nevsky prospekt: officers bedecked in military regalia, teenagers adorned with headbands and paper-flower necklaces, tourists struggling with their cumbersome cameras, tripods, and metro maps. young women sashay down nevsky prospekt -- fingers intertwined with their love's -- while men laugh raucously and tell crude jokes; beer bottle clutched safely in hand.


it's curious to observe, victory day. one would assume russians are, for the most part, stoic and brooding. not today. toddlers, melted popsicle outlining their mouths like lipstick, perch precariously on their fathers' shoulders. vendors sell assorted ice cream and helium balloons while the doors of every cafe are thrown open, people milling about under the awning. laughter -- unrestrained, joyful laughter -- punctuates the simmering afternoon air. 
and the veterans stand silent and proud, thankful that today -- at least today -- they are being rightfully acknowledged.

a smiling couple on victory day.

police.



tourists.

 

veteran.

veteran.





the bibliobibuli.

veteran.

woman smoking.

playing at the fountain.

reach.

veteran.