Donzerly light

Today, I saw New York City. Originally I had thought to start from lower Manhattan and work uptown, perhaps to acclimatise a bit before seeing Midtown, where all the iconic features of New York are, and maybe also because I expected that the rest of New York would be dull if I saw Times Square first. However, fate had other plans. As the bus terminal is located on 42nd Street, my first impression was of all the lights and billboards as I emerged from underground… right into the heart of Times Square. I liked it; I felt comfortable amidst the lights and bustle, as I always have in the heart of any city. (I’ve always thought it was because I was born in Hong Kong, the 24-hour city of Asia; I have big city in my blood.) However, after walking through it for about 5 minutes my companions mentioned that it was overwhelming. My response: Overwhelming? Hardly! I wouldn’t have minded even more bulb lights and shops.

Before I continue with the other things I saw, I have to mention something which I believe greatly affects my experience of New York City. I am visiting the city that never sleeps… but I have a curfew. Because we are staying with relatives in a suburban area of adjacent New Jersey, we ride a bus an hour to a bus stop near their house, where they pick us up each evening. Because they work early, the latest we can be at the bus stop by is shortly after 10pm. This greatly disappoints me as I am always interested in the nightlife of every city I visit. However, in the United States I am underage, so one wonders how much nightlife I could have experienced even if I had all night.

When exploring both suburban New Jersey I saw the flags in the yards and noted how much patriotism Americans possess. Seeing downtown New York, I noted how the quality of ‘Americanness’ is used in branding, again reflecting the amount of patriotism Americans possess. Where in Australia we would have stores marked Lawrence Dry Cleaners and City Stationery, America has American Dry Cleaners and American Office Supplies. All public transport in New York has the American flag on it; I think you could live in Australia for 6 months and still not know what the Australian flag looks like. I haven’t visited many countries, so I don’t have an answer to the question: is America particularly patriotic, or is Australia simply particularly un-patriotic? I would not be surprised if it were the latter: it fits in with our laid-back, larrikin stereotype. I suspect, however, that it is a combination of both: while we Aussies may not be patriotic, Americans are particularly so. What I have heard and now seen of America seems to support this.

Something that did surprise me, however, given that it seems to be fashionable to harbour a certain amount of negativity towards Americans, is the generous and understanding attitude I have come across in the city. I noticed a busker playing the guitar and did a double-take, for his guitar case was filled with not coins, but notes. Moving closer, I was reminded that the States have a one dollar note – yes, that explains it. The lowest note denomination in Australian currency is five dollars. But does that explain it? In Australia buskers’ instrument cases and hats contain a few silver coins, valued much below a dollar. This case was overflowing with one dollar bills! As the exchange rate can be considered at parity, the comparison is easy. Americans are much more generous to buskers than Australians are. I can think of two explanations: firstly, that it was a tourist area, and so the donations could actually have been from tourists. So, non-representative data collected. The second explanation is that Americans are used to tipping, and giving to buskers could be considered tipping. The second thing that contributed to my construction of Americans as understanding and generous was in a convenience store. I was purchasing a couple of postcards worth $1 each. He asked for $2.16, including tax. I handed over a $10 note – “Sorry, I’m out of coins,” I said apologetically. Apologising for giving over a note for something worth very little is a habit of mine. I was expecting to receive $7.84 in change (and to refill my coin supply). Instead, he replied “Gotcha,” and gave me $8 in change. I didn’t realise ‘til I had left the store. I checked the receipt for confirmation. Sure enough, “Amount paid” read $2.16 and “Change” read $8.00. My cousin confirms that this is common. Now, while we don’t encounter this situation back home because tax is always included in the price shown, I do not hesitate to state that if I were missing 10% (our Goods and Services Tax) at the counter, I would not have had it waived.

Lastly, it is still interesting to observe the interaction between my now-American cousin and my brother and myself. Today it was my cousin who voiced something that surprised me: the cognitive dissonance he experiences whenever my brother or I open our mouths and an Australian accent comes out. “Weren’t we all from the same country at one point?” he asked. He was technically right; he had been in Hong Kong until college, my brother grew up in Hong Kong until he was 7, and I was there as a baby. He did acknowledge that the dissonance was less when he heard me because I’ve had an Australian accent as long as he’d known me. “It sort of comes with the package,” he explains. But the way my brother talks is definitely “weirding him out”. I see now that it goes both ways.