103rd st, C Downtown.
We sat at opposite ends of the bench, but were clearly aware of one another.
I think i can recognise Europeans.
She was certainly not American, and it wasn’t just the great interest she took in her pocket map, that gave it away.
When the old man sitting next to me left, she looked over, and i asked her if she was alright.
She was at the end of a year travelling around America. 13 months to be exact. She had just arrived in New York from Chicago.
“How do i get to Penn Station?
I have been told i should shop there…”
She was German, and i disagreed, she should not shop there.
i took her map and as she told me the ins and outs of the past 13 months and coming 10 days, i marked her map with points of interest and suggestions.
Silvia, was 22.
She came from a small town in Germany.
She was moving home to start a BA in Media Studies, beginning in 10days.
She was excited.
Apparently she had been in New York three times before. This time she wanted to go to Soho, Little Italy and China Town (for handbags), walk the Brooklyn Bridge, and take the ferry to Statin Island. For whatever reason, she was extremely discombobulated by her day. Lack of sleep. A bad hostel. The impending comfort of home. Her family. Her boyfriend.
I empathised.
By 14th street, she seemed better. I told her my name and wished her luck.
October 1st 2008
