Multitude

The thing about coming to a new place, of course, is that you come to it totally defenceless. Being deprived of the knowledge of local social conventions and how to navigate them, one is forced to experience everything. The first few days in a new place are defined by an acute awareness of all that one experiences, whether those experiences are directed at one or merely incidental to one's life, because one does not have the social conventions that tell apart the important happenings from those which are just peripheral. One must accept everything at face value, one must treat everything as important. Only through the lens of local knowledge can one discern what one really needs to pay attention to, and what one can ignore safely.

And here, there is no shortage of things that are available to be experienced. From the mornings, I am faced with experiences that are new to me and therefore seem so remarkable. There is, for example, the particular delight in huddling into my light sweater, toting my trusty black bag, and wandering the brownstone-lined streets of Morningside, digging into a breakfast of coffee and a bagel with cream cheese bought from a street vendor, and enjoying the sight of joggers, dogs and cabs purring down the still-quiet streets.

And yesterday, went to Rockefeller Centre to go to the Top of the Rock, an observation deck on the top three floors of this opulent art-deco marvel of a skyscraper. I almost cried; seeing the dense patterns of facades and streets stretching out in all directions, the dramatic swath of Central Park, the famous and hallowed spires of both the Empire State and Chrysler Buildings, the Brooklyn Bridge and the Statue in the distance, and the Hudson all around, you realise that you really are in a charmed place, a place filled with magical names and venues, a place that the rest of the world dreams about.

We also wandered from Rockefeller Centre to Times Square, walking through the district and taking in the crowds and the proliferation of gaudy signboards. There are famous names here too, but I didn't feel that they were hallowed, since they seemed to lack the dignity of the reserved charm of landmarks like the Brooklyn Bridge. One thing that I did find intriguing, though, was the range of shows on Broadway, The Lion King, Mamma Mia, The Phantom of the Opera and more. And if I pass out this year without watching at least one of them, then shoot me, please, for wasting all that time away.

Closer to home, in the Butler Library, a handsome neoclassical building on campus, A and I visited the unbelievable collection of printed material housed in the Butler Stacks. Basically, these are made up of low-ceilinged and dimly-lit rooms filled with bookcases which are in turn filled with books. It was the greatest collection of words in print I have ever seen. I found and held a tattered and disintegrating volume on the history of Prussia, signed and donated to the university by Frederick the Great himself. There is so much knowledge and history condensed into one place; it really is absolutely stunning. And I fancied that, if we stayed quiet enough, we would be able to hear these venerable books murmuring their knowledge, letting it echo throughout all of eternity.

And tonight, just came back from a night out in Central Park, at Victoria Gardens, a small amusement park that looks somewhat like a permanent pasar-malam, an amusement park that Columbia had rented out for the night for the exclusive use of the freshmen. It was surprisingly more fun than I had expected. I guess that, with its carousels, carnival games, acrobats, stilt-walkers, contortionists and fire-eaters, this is a smaller, more conveniently located relative of Coney Island. But despite its diminutive size, there was a great vibe, with the students dancing, riding the mini-rides, munching on candy floss and playing the childs-play games.

It should be immediately clear, therefore, that New York is a place of great contrasts, with intimate encounters taking place side by side with great touristy activities, with spontaneous coincidences coexisting with well-planned extravaganzas. The city offers encounters on all levels ranging from the epic to the micro. The specialness of it comes from how these offerings manage to maintain their ability to fascinate and enthrall despite their sizes. On every level, then, New York delights. And that, I think, is the defining characteristic for a great city.

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Along with these spectacular activities, the people who I am experiencing all this with also demonstrate a great range of characteristics, a range so wide that it is mind-boggling and exhausting to keep up with, but which is still so endearing despite the wide range. These are, generally, the CUE people (who continue to meet up throughout the week, and at least say hi to each other on the street), the international students (among which are the Singaporeans) and the people living on my floor (with whom I celebrated an impromptu birthday party with a chocolate cake shaped like an unmentionable body part). These are solid, dependable people, and among them I also find people I can more easily talk to, who can relate more to my own previous experience, either due to sympathy with a shared experience, or simply a mind that is demonstrably more open. It is a privilege to have met them, and to be able to count them among my acquaintances and friends.

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Yesterday, too, was the last day that my parents were here. They flew off early this morning to Washington DC. So, yesterday morning, went out with them for breakfast at a diner near their hostel, and over omelettes, muffins and tea, Dad used the Tower of Hanoi game to point out a crucial insight into life: one cannot keep track of everything, so one should just keep moving forward, staying true to tried and tested principles or rules, keeping an eye on the past to ensure that one does not go backwards, and trusting that, in the end, everything will fall neatly into place.

And it is still early days, but as far as I can tell, this insight into the nature of life has held true. The principles that life in Singapore has taught me - or some of them at least - are still sound here, sound enough so that I find that I can stick to them and still see things falling neatly into place. Things were a bit iffy at the beginning of the week, but now that I've started to sort out my schedule, and now that I know CUE people will continue to be a dependable source of support in times of trouble, it seems like everything will work out fine.

Said goodbye to my parents in the lounge in Furnald yesterday evening, handing over my old phone (with the Top of the Rock pictures still inside, so I can't post them up here at the moment) and receiving sundry items, among which was a large microwaveable pot. The impression was that as long as we kept talking, we could put off the moment of leave-taking. But there was only so much that they could think of to ask of my college life thus far. They eventually promised to fly me back home whenever I felt like I needed to return. And in the end, I simply hugged them.

The enormity of the departure still catches me off-balance now. I will not see them in the flesh for a year, a prospect that is now clearly more daunting than I had expected. And as they left the building and blended into the crowd outside, I was struck by a deep sense of yearning and sadness. They had enough trouble letting go of their son; I had not expected to have so much trouble letting go of my parents. But then again, this does not in any way mean permanent estrangement. And anyway, some things need not have been said.

What can I say here, then? These are my parents, and I love them very much.