Bustling New York

“In New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of, there’s nothing you can’t do…” Those words by Alicia Keys echoed as my flight touched down at JFK International Airport on my first visit to the United States – and there was no better soundtrack.

So many times I have heard about places like God’s Window in Mpumalanga, which turned out to be quite underwhelming. But the phrase “The city that never sleeps” in countless songs, films and television shows is simply true.

Nothing prepared me for the raw, relentless energy that is New York City.

It is more than a city; it is a living, breathing organism, pulsing through the night with an unmatched rhythm.

A heartbeat that you cannot just hear, you feel it. It’s in the steam rising from the manholes, the distant sirens, the rumble of the underground trains beneath your feet and the chatter in different languages.

It didn’t take long for the cinematic moments to come alive, finally seeing all that I have watched on sitcoms and movie series. I felt like an extra in an imaginary re-shoot of The Devil Wears Prada, strolling briskly down Fifth Avenue, dodging yellow cabs that hooted even before the traffic lights changed. Everyone seemed to have to be somewhere else – urgently.

As you take it all in – the towering skyscrapers that curved into the clouds, the pedestrians with coffee (Starbucks) cups in one hand and cellphones in the other, and AirPods everywhere, fast walking… It was intense, yet strangely addictive. I walked about 10km on my first day.

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A city of moments, big and small

My first night out happened to be my birthday. My new friends and I went to Times Square. I couldn’t imagine a better way to celebrate than being surrounded by the electric chaos of one of the world’s most iconic locations. I wanted to see the city under the stars – or rather, under the blinding, cinematic glow of 3D Out-Of-Home digital screens flashing larger-than-life campaigns.

Even at midnight, Times Square buzzed with life. It felt surreal, like a giant birthday candle just for me. I soaked it all in – street performers, tourists and a sensory overload that made me feel like I’d walked into a dream.

Then, when hunger pangs arrived, I turned to something I’d only seen in American sitcoms: the New York slice. They say everything is bigger in America – and they weren’t lying.

The pizza slice I was served could’ve easily passed for an entire pie back home. It was thin, greasy and divine. Standing on a random street corner with a slice of pepperoni pizza that folded perfectly in my hand, I suddenly understood why New Yorkers are so devoted to their food.

I made it a point to explore the city on foot and via the subway, to absorb the atmosphere. There’s an unspoken culture on subway trains. People plugged into their music, flipping through books, or quietly observing the bustle around them. You quickly learn the rules: don’t stare, don’t speak unless spoken to, and always let people off before you get on.

As I wandered through the boroughs, I began to appreciate the city’s layered identity. The aromas shifted from street to street – Korean BBQ in Koreatown, fresh bagels in Jewish delis, halal food carts offering chicken over rice, and the unmistakable scent of roasted peanuts from a street vendor.

One of the most awe-inspiring moments was crossing the Brooklyn Bridge. I did it on foot, taking my time to absorb the view of Manhattan’s skyline from a distance. The bridge itself, with its Gothic arches and steel cables, is more than a feat of engineering – it’s a work of art.

Pausing halfway and looking over the East River, I reflected on how many people before me had walked that same path chasing dreams, recovering from heartache, making memories.

Another highlight was the yellow taxi ride. There’s something undeniably cinematic about hailing a cab in New York. My driver asked where I was from. When I said South Africa, his eyes lit up and we had a lovely conversation about Joburg, Trevor Noah and amapiano.

It struck me how wonderfully connected the world can be, even in the backseat of a cab in the middle of New York.

A deeply meaningful experience during my trip was visiting the United Nations headquarters, where I spent most of my time. Standing there, where world leaders gather to shape global discourse, gave me goose bumps.

It’s one thing to know the UN exists – it’s another to walk through its corridors and see the flags of every nation waving proudly, including my own. I was not just a visitor; I was a young African man standing on international ground, carrying the hopes and dreams of home.

Before I said my goodbyes to the city, I indulged in a bit of retail therapy. Shopping in New York is an experience all on its own. From luxury department stores to quirky pop-up shops, every street corner offers temptation.

While exploring Midtown, I found myself standing before the New York Times Building. For a writer, this was no ordinary building – it was a cathedral of storytelling. There was something sacred about being so close to the very structure where countless headlines had been born, where narratives that shape the world are crafted every day.

And then – the burger. No fast-food chain or glossy menu could have prepared me for this particular experience.

I had it in a tiny, tucked-away diner. But the moment I took my first bite, I understood why American burgers are in a league of their own.

The patty was juicy, perfectly seasoned and grilled with care. It came loaded with cheddar, crisp lettuce, tomatoes, gherkins and a soft, lightly toasted bun.

The chips (or fries, as I was quickly corrected) were golden and addictive. Every bite was layered, flavourful and deeply satisfying.

I’ve eaten many burgers before, but this one will live in my memory for a very long time.

On my final day, I retreated to Central Park in search of stillness amid the chaos. I found a quiet moment to reflect. It’s fascinating how a place so alive can also offer you peace.

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