I think it happened in Winter.
I commute from Long Island everyday (reluctantly), and I listen to music to make my commute easier. An hour and a half worth of music. Every morning. Needless to say, I never forget my headphones. I couldn’t make the trip without them. They’re always tucked safely in a pocket in my bag, retrieved at my seat on the east-bound 8:03 train to Penn Station, then stashed away when I step foot on campus. Music makes things easier.
But one morning last semester, I forgot my headphones. Stupidly, I put them in the pocket of my hoodie and left my hoodie in my room that morning, so I had to spend the commute in silence. But was it really silence? For once, I noticed the change that occurs block to block. Penn Station is chaotic and bustling, Chinatown is lively and quaint, CCNY is homely and industrious. Around where I live, almost nothing can be heard, aside from sounds of nature and whatever noise is made by joggers and bikers. Which do I prefer? I sought to answer that by mapping out the sounds of New York. One day I’ll claim this city as my own, and it’s important to me that I distinguish what sounds like home and what doesn’t.
Valley Stream
5/2/15
8,382.9 persons/mi^2
[Notes: The ever-present sound of sparrows, the sound of the fountain in Hendrickson Park, the sound of wind. The houses are spaced apart in my neighborhood, and I live next to a quiet public park. I’m more familiar with the sound of woodpeckers than street traffic.]
Penn Station
5/2/15
600,000+ served daily
[Notes: The sound of rush-hour chatter, arguments in the distance, playing children, the drone of a very bored MTA employee. I tune it out by listening to my music at full volume, but that only succeeds in making me deaf and oblivious to my surroundings. Large crowds used to make me nervous, but I’ve gotten over my fear.]
Chinatown
5/2/15
10,568 persons/mi^2
[Notes: The sound of Chinese folk music being played, indiscernible chatter in Chinese and very little English, probably from the trio in the picture. My mother liked to take me to Chinatown on the weekends when I was younger because it reminded her of my grandmother. We had a very specific routine in Chinatown, usually consisting of visiting the same restaurant and getting roasted duck, then shopping for groceries at street stands. There are streets in Chinatown I can walk with my eyes closed and streets I’ve never seen before. It feels nostalgic, but now that I’m older I realize it’s not my neighborhood.]
City College of New York
5/11/15
16,161 students
[Notes: The sound of students chatting casually, the wind that picks up in the main entrance to the NAC (probably due to the shape of the building forming an enclosed corner), sparrows somewhere in the distance, the snapping of a flag against the flagpole. City College has a very relaxed atmosphere I’ve become accustomed to, and hearing this audio recording is oddly comforting. It’s very distinctly recognizable as my school. The wind and sparrows remind me of home.]
It seems cliché, but if I close my eyes and listen to each of these audio recordings I can place myself in them; imagine the sights and smells. Every block of New York City has its own unique sound signature. All that remains is to ask myself which feels the most comfortable to me. I was born in Queens and transplanted on Long Island, and I never felt like I fit in where I lived. Studying in this city, I have some comfort knowing that it’s very easy to find someone with a shared experience. But I don’t feel as if I belong here just yet. I’m not quick enough, not knowledgable enough, not witty enough. But gradually, I’m learning to adjust to the sounds. I’m on the cusp of finding my place.
