Do you ever get the sense you've been down this road before? When you watch TV does that hot new show feel played out? Like you've seen everything there is to see? Been everywhere there is to go? Done every vacation that exists? Like nothing can take your breathe away anymore? Like no matter how astounding technology gets, the glass ceiling's already broken and it's never gonna be as great as it was that first time?
When I was eleven, we left our small-town roots for the first time and went to celebrate Christmas in the big city. Nairobi. I was in awe of everything I saw. I looked around and saw lights going round and round in endless circle. I saw the public Christmas tree in the middle of the city and I'd never seen such a big one before. I saw the skyscrapers and as my eyes followed them all the way up there to infinity I wondered who built them so tall, and how they stood up there, and how come the wind didn't blow them left and right like it did trees. Billboards. Malls. Housing estates with multiple phases. Supermarkets three floors big. Fast food joints. Clubs and cinemas. Traffic lights. More people on the streets than I'd ever seen in my life. I drank it all in with glee. And then later I moved there and all that became the fabric my life was made of. I didn't notice any of it anymore.
And then I turned 22 just as my team and I won a national competition that meant my team and me were gonna go to New York. The greatest city in the world. The one that never sleeps. The heart of the land of opportunity. And just like that I became 11 again. Times Square. Subways. McDonald's. Broadway. Brooklyn. Yellow cabs. One-way streets. $1 hotdogs from food carts on the streets. Pizza so large you eat it in slices. The Blade Runner, Remastered. Radio Shack (I actually bought my first mp3 player, a Sansa, there). Our hotel was actually in Manhattan. 891, Amsterdam Avenue. It's one of those things I'm just never gonna forget. It was like I'd died and gone to heaven.
And then four years later they told me I was moving to Johannesburg. I still remember my first experience landing here. Never mind that I wasn't a child anymore. I oohh-ed and aaahh-ed as we drove past the widest roads I'd seen yet, stacked neatly one on top of the other. Wide open spaces. Not a spec of dust in sight. Even the flower beds around compounds seemed not to contain any soil. They brought me to Sandton Central. And I got out and started walking around and admiring everything I saw. Swanky low-rise complexes. Large, pane-only windows. Trees interspersed so casually and so perfectly with the modern development the whole city looks from above like it's in a forest. Harley Davidson. Sports cars randomly driving past on the road like it ain't a thing. Hot water taps that actually had hot water flowing from them. Street lights that worked. And made the N1 look like a stairway to heaven as it receded into the horizon in the calm of night.
The first time at anything is always the greatest. Because your imagination gets stretched. Because you're seeing something completely new. Something much like a miracle. Something akin to poetry in its wonder and magic. Because you become like a child again. Every other time I've gone to new places (and there have been a few) I've seen it, how everything looks like I've been there before. I get excited for two minutes and then it's back to business as usual. It's a little scary, actually, thinking about how I'm gradually less and less impressed by new experiences. How it progressively takes more and more to get my attention. How I don't worship at the throne of Apple as much as I used to.
How fleeting life all is.
END
When I was eleven, we left our small-town roots for the first time and went to celebrate Christmas in the big city. Nairobi. I was in awe of everything I saw. I looked around and saw lights going round and round in endless circle. I saw the public Christmas tree in the middle of the city and I'd never seen such a big one before. I saw the skyscrapers and as my eyes followed them all the way up there to infinity I wondered who built them so tall, and how they stood up there, and how come the wind didn't blow them left and right like it did trees. Billboards. Malls. Housing estates with multiple phases. Supermarkets three floors big. Fast food joints. Clubs and cinemas. Traffic lights. More people on the streets than I'd ever seen in my life. I drank it all in with glee. And then later I moved there and all that became the fabric my life was made of. I didn't notice any of it anymore.
And then I turned 22 just as my team and I won a national competition that meant my team and me were gonna go to New York. The greatest city in the world. The one that never sleeps. The heart of the land of opportunity. And just like that I became 11 again. Times Square. Subways. McDonald's. Broadway. Brooklyn. Yellow cabs. One-way streets. $1 hotdogs from food carts on the streets. Pizza so large you eat it in slices. The Blade Runner, Remastered. Radio Shack (I actually bought my first mp3 player, a Sansa, there). Our hotel was actually in Manhattan. 891, Amsterdam Avenue. It's one of those things I'm just never gonna forget. It was like I'd died and gone to heaven.
And then four years later they told me I was moving to Johannesburg. I still remember my first experience landing here. Never mind that I wasn't a child anymore. I oohh-ed and aaahh-ed as we drove past the widest roads I'd seen yet, stacked neatly one on top of the other. Wide open spaces. Not a spec of dust in sight. Even the flower beds around compounds seemed not to contain any soil. They brought me to Sandton Central. And I got out and started walking around and admiring everything I saw. Swanky low-rise complexes. Large, pane-only windows. Trees interspersed so casually and so perfectly with the modern development the whole city looks from above like it's in a forest. Harley Davidson. Sports cars randomly driving past on the road like it ain't a thing. Hot water taps that actually had hot water flowing from them. Street lights that worked. And made the N1 look like a stairway to heaven as it receded into the horizon in the calm of night.
The first time at anything is always the greatest. Because your imagination gets stretched. Because you're seeing something completely new. Something much like a miracle. Something akin to poetry in its wonder and magic. Because you become like a child again. Every other time I've gone to new places (and there have been a few) I've seen it, how everything looks like I've been there before. I get excited for two minutes and then it's back to business as usual. It's a little scary, actually, thinking about how I'm gradually less and less impressed by new experiences. How it progressively takes more and more to get my attention. How I don't worship at the throne of Apple as much as I used to.
How fleeting life all is.
END
3 comments:
I totally agree with you about the decreasing level of excitement with every additional new thing I encounter or experience; but I've also come to find that, more and more, it's the simple things that now excite me. It's no longer big roads, lights and buildings that make me catch my breath... Instead, it's beautiful flowers, big trees and sunshine after the rain- when the grass is super green...
You sound like King Solomon in Ecclesiastes on this one, actually just the last couple of lines
Brrrrr. I always sound like King Solomon. I've seen the reviews so I know :P
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