New York, New York

Last year, Zoya and I already decided: we absolutely have to visit each other! Half an hour on the phone later, a quick glance at the calendar and I had booked my flights. As a reward, so to speak, for my finished Bachelor's thesis. Okay, a premature reward, because at that point I still had to write my last term paper and defend my BA. Maybe it was more of a motivational trip.

We had planned everything. Restaurants, cafés and walks, of course one or two club visits and a trip to Pennsylvania to visit Zoya's family. But of course, not everything was just going to work out flawlessly. Five days before departure, my foot thought to itself during sport, so, we're going to make a really weird movement, bump into each other everywhere and really break down. Diagnosis: Infraction in two places, bone marrow oedema, 6-8 weeks XXL brace with crutches. But the nice thing about doctors is that you can simply reject their advice!

So I was prescribed a mini brace, I didn't like the crutches either, so I only took one with me to NYC and off I went to the airport. Since I was really slow on my feet and basically couldn't stand for more than 10 minutes, I booked assistance through British Airways. And, no kidding, I have hope in humanity again. Never before have people been so kind and helpful. No matter where, I was offered assistance. People saved me seats, asked if they should pull my suitcase and let me go ahead in almost every queue so I didn't have to stand. I was really a bit overwhelmed.

When I finally landed in JFK, I called Zoya ("We're on the same continent!"), she ordered me an Uber because my mobile data didn't work outside Europe, and it was off towards Manhattan. The view was overwhelming. I saw the New York skyline, brightly lit, could make out the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Tower. The Uber drove over the Williamsburg Bridge and stopped. 10 seconds later, Zoya and I were in each other's arms, somewhere between laughing and crying.

If there's one thing I learned in London, it's that people make the home. Being with Zoya in the flat was like returning to a familiar place after a long time, because she was there. We talked and told each other everything that had happened over the last few months and what was too detailed for the phone. The next morning we went shopping and had coffee (I just didn't have jet lag!) and got on the F-line underground together towards Central Park. Zoya went to work in the Historical Association building and I looked for the nearest café, because sitting was the nicest thing ever.

One of the most frightening things about the USA is the ignorance. Already on the street, I had noticed the large amounts of rubbish, which consisted mainly of disposable coffee cups. In really every café, be it take-away or sit-in, drinks are served in paper cups. I had to ask every time if they had real cups. Creepy. Even creepier that no one seemed to mind drinking coffee out of plastic or cardboard, even when sitting at a laptop for hours in a café. My requests for real mugs were usually first met with irritated smiles because no one understood what I wanted.

Well, after this sad realisation, I started the day. I found two bookshops, including the well-known Strand Bookshop, which has a branch parallel to Central Park. No sooner had I stepped through the doors than a pink cover beamed at me. The new book by Emily Henry, one of my favourite authors (great recommendation, her new book "Happy Place" is just great, but I also devoured her other books within a few days), was already available in the USA. I was grinning like a honey cake horse when I stood at the checkout with a signed copy of Happy Place.

I went on to the next bookstore, but my last investment had made me so happy that I could hardly concentrate on new titles.

I walked a bit through Central Park, found a bench by the lake and started reading my other book. It was a really nice day, warm and a bit cloudy.

Around afternoon, I made my way back to Zoya's work to pick her up.

Even though I hadn't even been there 24 hours, it felt normal. As if we had traded London for New York and continued our friendship where we had parted ways. The next few days flew by. We went out to eat, Zoya showed me around the West Village where she went to university, we chilled in Washington Square and explored every bookshop we passed. Zoya's roommate, Paula, also joined us from time to time. Every morning we would go together, or I alone if Zoya had to work, to the Black Cat Café in the Lower East Village. Because there was not only extremely good coffee, a quaint vibe, but also real dishes (yay).

I did a few tourist things, looked at the Statue of Liberty and visited some of the famous skyscrapers. I found the Empire State Building really ugly and unspectacular, but the Chrysler Building was all the more beautiful. The tour crowds were absolutely exhausting and super ignorant, so almost everyone took enthusiastic selfies at the 9/11 Memorial, which disgusted me so much that I turned around immediately.

At Chelsea Market, I felt a bit nostalgic when I passed a stall with vegan pastel de natas. These were always a highlight when we were in Soho in London. I walked across the HighLine, paused on Little Island and checked out Wall Street. Rarely have I seen so many suits in one place.

An absolute highlight was a baseball game where Zoya, Paula and I went. Completely over-excited by a lot of alcoholic something (no idea what Zoya had bought), we arrived way too late at Yankees Stadium, all bought the same cap and climbed the stairs to our seats. None of us had the faintest clue how baseball worked, so we cheered when everyone else cheered and booed when the opponents made a mistake. Not like we knew what the errors were. We danced (if you can call my seated gymnastics dancing) and bawled along to the song lyrics. I had real fan feelings, although I didn't figure out how baseball worked until the end.

We went to more bookshops, ate bagels and had coffee in the park. At the Moma we sat in front of the water lilies, and my heart beat faster when I discovered a real Jackson Pollock on a wall. At the Met, there was a painting by Gustav Klimt and quite a lot of other stuff. One day we didn't really know what to do, so we went to the nearest tattoo shop and two hours later we were walking along the Lower West Side, grinning.

Last weekend, we spontaneously went to Philly, where Zoya's family lives in the suburbs. It was so incredibly beautiful! A huge garden with a raised terrace where we sat in the sun, engrossed in our books. Zoya's mum fed us through with Pakistani specialities (I was in culinary heaven) and we enjoyed the silence after the New York city noise. Zoya showed me her old high school, her favourite route to school and the café where she used to study with her friends. It was a different feeling again, finally seeing all the things she had always told me about. With the windows down, we drove through the picturesque landscape, listening to Lana del Rey songs and letting the spring sun warm our faces.

As long as the two weeks were in front of me at the beginning, they went by just as quickly. When I got on the underground at Delancey Street/Essex Street Station, I had to fight a bit with the tears. Zoya and I don't know when we will see each other again, whether it will be months or maybe years. It was goodbye again indefinitely. And yet we have new memories together now, until we meet again somewhere and create new ones.