“Starting over” is the concept which I don’t subscribe to because I believe life is a something continuous. But there was one time I felt I needed to start over entirely from scratch.

November 7th, 2008: Brooklyn, New York.

I arrived at JFK Airport the day before and settled in a hostel in Bed-Stuy. I slept 14 hours straight because of my jet lag. I woke up around 8 a.m the next morning.

It was cold. I put on a fleece pullover over my pyjamas and a pair of thick socks. Then I went to the hostel’s lounge and kitchen upstairs to get coffee. 

Unlike my cramped dorm room, it was spacious and sunny. There were two big windows. One of them was half-open. A barefoot girl was having a coffee sitting on the window frame. She appeared to be a bit younger than me, possibly in her early 20s. Oh yes, she looked oh-so-cool-looking.

This was my first chance to make friends in New York. I didn’t know anybody in the city.

I felt nervous, a bit tense. I had only two options: talk to her or ignore her. Can I make friends with that cool-looking girl? I needed to make friends. IMMEDIATELY. 

“Good morning,” I said to her as friendly as an English textbook. She looked at me listlessly and said, “Hi”.

I noticed a tattoo on her neck, and body-piercings on her nose and upper lip and left eyebrow. I felt that she was not the type of person who was readily willing to befriend a stranger or a foreigner. And I was both, unfortunately.

I wanted to start a conversation but I didn’t know which English phrases to use. Dejectedly I put water in an electric kettle and turned it on. 

“Hey, Angela!” 

A boy from another dorm came up to the lounge room and greeted her. “How are you?”

“Not good.” She put her mug down on the floor and tossed her loose blonde hair back.

“What’s wrong?” The boy asked.

“Nothing. Things haven’t been too good lately.” She said in a deadpan tone. The boy shrugged his shoulder and put a teabag in his mug. The girl, Angela, opened the window fully and put both her legs and upper torso out. I was worried if she would fall. But she somehow managed to sit on the frame and pulled out a box of cigarettes from a pocket on her T-shirt. The sweet vanilla smell of the cigarette wafted to the kitchen and mixed with the aroma of instant coffee I was making. I grabbed my coffee and sat on a sofa, away from the window. 

Doesn’t she feel cold? I looked at her with curiosity. She was wearing a loose grey T-shirt and black leggings.

I was strangely attracted to her nonchalant attitude. She was soaking up the sun and looked so carefree as if there was nothing she cared about in the world except her cigarette. How it would feel like to live like that, I wondered. She had an air of freedom and recklessness.

“There’s a party at a hostel nearby tonight. Would you like to come?” The boy asked Angela.

“Nope. Too much partying nowadays.”

“Oh, well, okay. Hey, how about you? Wanna come?” The boy asked me suddenly. I was startled. 

“Uh, I don’t know. I just arrived here yesterday and I want to see the city.” I tried to sound polite and friendly at the same time but was feeling very awkward. (And I continued to be like that still to this day whenever I talk with strangers.)

“Oh, not my day. So, where are you from?”

“I’m from Japan.”

“I’m Alex. Nice to meet you.” He sat down next to me. I detected a slight European accent in his voice, but I couldn’t figure out where from exactly. 

“What made you come to New York?” Angela asked me abruptly. At first, I didn’t realize she was talking to me. Then I panicked. That cool kid is talking to ME! I got all unnerved.

“Uh… I want to study English and get a job.” was my reply. I couldn’t say that I was also hoping to find the love of my life, get a green card, buy a house, have kids and a dog. It may have sounded like a tall order for the very next day of the arrival, I was afraid.

She smiled at me pitifully or was it rather a sardonic grin? 

“Good luck with that. I’ve been here for two months and haven’t even got a job yet.”

She stubbed the cigarette out on the wall outside the window and then walked out of the room. The sweet smell of her smoke lingered there for a while.

I got to the window and leaned out. I wanted to know what I could see outside. I could see the top of the tree in front of the hostel. There was nobody on the street. The right side of the window there was a fire escape. Looking through its iron framework, I could see a bright blue sky. Crisp air filled my lungs.

How many people like me come to this city every day? I wondered. How many of us come here full of hope, dreams, ambitions and expectations? And then get battered down like I just got?

I was scared. But I was still excited to start my new life. Nobody knew me and I could do whatever I wanted (as long as my visa status allowed me).

Everything was new to me. I was surrounded by unfamiliar things. The scenery, the language, the smells, even the air, everything. If I were reborn, would it feel like this?

“Oh, I know a nice Japanese cafe in Manhattan. Would you like to go there with me?”

Alex said to me from the sofa. I realized I’ve just made my first friend in New York. I turned around and said yes with a smile.

I often remember that morning. Bright sunlight filling the room and I was feeling free. Feeling so free.