As I stepped out into the sunny, but brisk cold morning of November, I wondered for a few seconds where I was about to head. While thoughts of plausible destinations raced through my head I chose a song to set the mood. I decided on classical, Chopin to set the holiday mood and Nocturne no.2 in C-Sharp Minor to reflect on the cold depressing weather that was stirring on outside. I chuckled as the the cold wintery breeze slapped my face, and the voice in my head said with the most regal of tones “Winter is coming”.

My first few steps led me to the façade of the building I called home. Home was a new and abstract term for me, considering that I wasn’t someone who moved frequently. I didn’t have many experiences that required me to get used to a new space, especially alone. I decided to make a right and walk up 3rd avenue. Looking up, the grey and ominous looking sky teased the people below with the uncertainty of a downpour, but I decided to take the chance anyway and continued my meander through my neighborhood. I walked down 3rd avenue and saw what looked like endless scaffoldings, which gave off a rustic iron smell because of the humidity. For a split second I wanted to decipher where I lived, I noticed the heavily Hispanic community to the north of my dorms, but the heavily gentrified community to the south. The location of my dorms seemed central, almost like a border to two different socioeconomic lifestyles that I observe on a daily basis in NYC. I realized after another block or so that the city blocks weren’t going to do me justice, and so I decided to go to Central Park where I could focus more on the nature and literal environment of my surroundings.

My treck up the avenues to get to central park was arduous, often times people forget the anatomy of Manhattan. Being an island, the gradual slope upwards from the water’s edge from 3rd avenue all the way to Central Park East left me out of breath and stopping at every other avenue. As I climbed the avenues I passed many restaurants that left me wondering about my plans for dinner that evening (I ended up eating Mexican Food). The wide variety of restaurants in the neighborhood gave me a sense of relief, it felt as if anything I wanted would be available to me. My walk between Park and Madison Avenue reflected upon the changing season as the gradual incline to Central Park involved more trees with vibrant leaves that were amidst changing colors and more leaves that were soggy and plastered all over the ground. I approached my favorite part of the journey to Central Park, Park Avenue Malls. It is a small park that separates Park Ave North and South and underneath is the tunnel that allows Metro North and Amtrack to operate their trains to and from Grand Central Station.  Hearing the trains roar under my feet and clack on the metal tracks below is music to my ears. The rhythmic whirr of the diesel engine produces an autonomous sensory meridian response and satisfies my interest in transportation vehicles.

As I reached Central Park, I thought to myself “do I really want to do this?”. Reason being, getting engrossed into the park seemed like a task. I wanted to experience the park and people watch within the park, things that I normally can’t do from the outskirts. I took a deep sigh and took the first steps to my long meander through the park. Aside from the mothers running with their strollers or the fathers here there for soccer practice, I noticed the rest of the people that utilized the park. I was always under the impression that the city was a youthful place and I would only see people running and walking in Central Park, but the reality of it was there were a lot of people who were there just like me. Many of them drawing, many writing, many just looking over the Jacqueline Kennedy Onasiss Resovoir thinking about the thoughts that train through there minds, similar like the ones that occupy mine.

Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir