NEW YORK CITY or BUST

I remember seeing that sign held up by Bhalki Butakamus (sp?!) as he was riding on a back of truck, on his way to the US of A.

I can attest that I, too, feel like a "Perfect Stranger" out here in New York City, full of its aloof types, wannabes, and fashionistas. It can all be incredibly intimidating - for someone landing here for his or her very first time. But I don't feel so daunted by city's appeal, as I've been an avid visitor for over a decade of my life, or more.

But this move to New York has been a complete rush, and I feel as if this is how I should have felt when first moving to Seoul, South Korea. But, surprisingly, I wasn't shaken off my rocker when I first landed in Seoul. And, yet, here I am shaking in my boots in a city that, as I mentioned before, have had a "relationship" with for many many years.

So what's my deal? Why is *this* time around so much more different than any other?

Well, in the past, I was only a visitor, like a said, and not on my way to being half-way considered a, well, True New Yorker. It's such a strange adaptation process, indeed, trying to fit a personality into a shoe-box sized apartment filled with odd, used furnishings, and different people from all walks of life. There aren't any bright, shiny and new "foreign" English Teachers who are afraid of confronting things like dog meat this time, and there are people afraid of things like driving on the mean streets of NYC, instead. What is a girl like me to do in this city? During my very first inaugural week....

I'm almost afraid that my English speaking abilities will even get worse, rather than improve in a city where English was the Second Language. How silly is that?! But with the fast-talking, in-the-know opinionated street walking, 3 year New York native comes along, I'm suddenly at a loss of words.

"How do they know so much about this area? It all sort of looks the same to me..."
"I thought that restaurant served buckwheat noodles, and not straight wheat noodles? Wait a minute, what sorts of noodles are these anyway??"

So many strange details are slamming me in the face, and it's completely different from half-assing my way through taxi cabs and store front ahjummas and ahjussis, as if I were a native Korean.

But passing as a Native New Yorker? Heck no! That's not going to happen. As soon as I open my mouth my midwest accent comes blarring through, and my complete dumbfoundedness in where the heck I even am shines through like ....well.. tbc