Before New York

Thoughts on a trip awaited for a lifetime & an interview with Caroline van Sprang about how our surroundings shape how we live and love.

Welcome to The Flâneurs Project. This post is part of our Longing for Places series, where I write about my first trip to America and interview Caroline Van Sprang about her relationships with Berlin and Amsterdam.

As I step into my favorite New York-style bagel place in The Hague, I’m quickly greeted by the owner, Karen, who is originally from New York. “Hi. Do you want coffee? Filter, the regular, right?” she asks. I smile and say “yes, please” almost immediately. I sit down, order the salmon and cream cheese bagel, along with a big glass of water, and I start writing.

This bagel place has a handwritten sign in front of the door: Bagels so good, you can cancel your flight to New York. And indeed, the bagels are so good that I keep coming back, proudly one of their weekly regulars. But despite that, the flight to New York that I booked a few months ago has been a trip in the making for the past… twenty years, ever since I was a child.

A big part of my longing is rooted in the fact that this place was, and still is, quite restricted for Romanians. It’s not impossible to get there, but it’s not the easiest or quickest process either. Romania, along with Bulgaria and Cyprus, are the only countries in the European Union where people still need to apply for a visa to travel as tourists or for business in the United States.

Looking closer at the roots of this longing, beyond the restrictions mentioned above, I recall how much American movies and TV shows shaped my childhood. Post-communist Romania in the ’90s and early 2000s wasn’t the most fun or abundant place—I briefly wrote about this in another essay, “Brief Thoughts On (Post-Communist) Places”—but movies, songs, and books ignited my imagination: I lived through them, in them.

I know I’m not alone in this yearning. Many other people have a dream place similar to mine, whether it’s New York or another city in America. I’m reminded of this paragraph from Chris Arnade’s essay “US is better than Europe!”:

There is certainly a lot of that going on, but the more time I spend walking the world, the more time I spend talking to people, I think the deeper answer is that the image the US projects and represents to a lot of the world, and in many ways provides its residents relative to other places — opportunity, material wealth, safety, independence, space, convenience, and lots of immediate pleasure — is a lot more appealing than what I’ve believed before, or want to believe. So appealing it breaks across cultural boundaries and life-long preferences.

a window in The Hague, captured on a walk through my neighborhood

New York, New York

What else can be said about New York? Perhaps not much more, and yet, an infinite number of things. It is a character in countless stories, the serious or casual partner of so many people around the world.

I have been in a long-distance relationship with New York for as long as I can remember, growing accustomed to the art of longing and loving from afar—mostly by tapping into my imagination and reliving the stories of friends and strangers who have walked its streets.

In just over a month, at the end of September, I will be there for the very first time. Initially, after booking the flight, I felt a wave of pure elation. But that feeling has since blended and shifted, slowly giving way to a different emotion: fear.

This city is infinite; for a few days, I can be anybody I want. I could even lose myself entirely. As I tried to understand this fear (of loneliness), something I very rarely experience before embarking on a solo journey to a new place, I found myself wondering whether there was an equivalent to the famous “Paris Syndrome” for New York. This curiosity led me to an article by Daniel Goleman from 1984:

In ''From Death to Morning,'' the writer Thomas Wolfe tried to capture the magic of this quest:

''The great vision of the city is burning in your heart in all its enchanted colors just as it did when you were 12 years old and thought about it. You think that some glorious happiness of fortune, fame and triumph will be yours at any minute, that you are about to take your place among great men and lovely women in a life more fortunate and happy than any you have ever known - that it is all here, somehow, waiting for you…''

We are shaped by stories and dreams more than we realize. Dreams are powerful, overwhelming, malleable, and addictive. In contrast, reality is fleeting and fragile. Perhaps I understand my fear a little better now.

I do not seek decadence or surrealness in New York, nor moments that will sweep me off my feet. I want moments of humanity, of palpable hope, real stories embedded in my memory, kept alive at the reach of a thought.

I once read that fear and excitement are closely intertwined. I’ve never felt such fear / excitement before a trip—and I can’t wait to see how this emotion will transform once I’m there in person.

Note: If you’re living in New York and would like to grab a coffee or go for a walk, feel free to write me an email. I’ll be there from September 27th to October 10th (with a few days away in Austin).

photo credit: @R2bin

Interview with Caroline van Sprang

I met Caroline at an & The Table dinner a few weeks before my US visa appointment in Amsterdam. As soon as we sat down, we instantly connected, sharing stories about the cities we’ve lived in and how our surroundings shape our thoughts and the way we love.

I told her how important this particular event was on my calendar because it symbolized the freedom to visit and experience a place that had always been on my mind—a place that had felt out of reach for so long. Caroline asked if I’d like to celebrate together after my appointment, and I was so touched by her thoughtfulness.

We met again a few weeks later, just half an hour after I received the news that my US visa was approved, and we enjoyed a slow, delicious lunch at Carmen in Amsterdam. During our conversation, I was captivated by her awareness, her intellect, and the warmth she carries within her. For all of these reasons, and more, I’m grateful and excited to share this interview with her below.

Hi, Caroline! Please tell us a bit about yourself and any creative projects that you are passionate about.

Caroline. 25. Half German, half Dutch. Curious. Ambitious. Passionate. Full of dreams. Nostalgic and melancholic. Aware.

Community is what I care about most. Bringing people together and feeding off each other’s energy. That’s why I host gatherings—tables for women who have yet to meet. Our conversation topics vary: friendship, family, community, freelancing, and figuring out the next steps in life.

The latter is on my mind. I’m treating it as a little quarter-life crisis. For me, it’s about wanting more—something significant. Is that an illusion? You tell me.

I’m a dreamer. I always have been.

But it’s only recently that I’ve met people who have turned their dreams into reality and motivated me to do the same. There it is: the power of people and interaction. Community. We feed each other.

MODERN READERS AND EATERS

Together with my dear friend Sophie Saddington, I host a book and dinner club in Amsterdam. We’ve done some classics—of which I’ve read none. I do the cooking anyway; she asks the sophisticated questions. Our next book is on food—my pick. Understandably, I’ve been consuming it like a tingling mango sorbet on a hot summer evening.

Which cities bring you deep joy while walking?

Every city has its own charms. While in Berlin, the people are so interesting to watch that it doesn’t really matter what your surroundings are. Oh, but avoid it in winter! I found Rome so aesthetically pleasing that walking was all I did—well, I ate a lot of lobster too. I found Madrid very beautiful as well! I guess more so than Barcelona. At the end of the day, it’s about the company you walk with, right?

I’m a big biker. My last visit to Paris was all about biking, and in Amsterdam, I mainly use my bike too. It’s fast; images fly by, and in daily life, it’s convenient.

Lately, I’ve been walking to my office instead of rushing there by bike. Surprisingly—or maybe logically—I’ve made so much eye contact with people. It’s something I never really thought about before! There’s a form of awareness in walking that isn’t there in cycling, taking in every step of the road while going somewhere—or just wandering. I’m very pleased to have discovered that.

One of the things I look forward to when I start dating again—whenever that may be—is walking side by side, holding hands. Doing so is such an act of love; matching paces, pointing out things you want the other to see. It’s like making love to one another while inviting your surroundings to join in. A trio?!

Gosh, hopefully, I don’t sound weird!

If you could bottle Amsterdam into an idea or a feeling, what would that idea/feeling be?

I’ve left this question open for a long time. I don’t have an answer.

My relationship with the city has been complicated for such a long time. Others love it here; it’s a capital city known all over the world. They look at me with longing whenever I mention that the city famous for its canals is my home. The city has something promising—open and free. We’ve got pride, loads of weed, and ladies in the red-light district.

But diving deeper, diving local, the city is losing its charm. Locals have had to leave due to expensive living costs. Whoever is to blame for that—including me—hasn’t been giving back enough. Cities thrive by taking and adding something to the table. Right now, there are only legs left; no board, no food.

So maybe, deception then? I slept badly. Maybe that’s why my answer is so depressing.

What places do you love in Amsterdam?

My friends’ places. The way you live says a lot about you.

I started race biking recently, riding through areas I’ve never seen before. A lot of nature—cows, horses, the water. It’s wonderful.

The cinema and I are close. I go a lot, mainly watching fiction. By immersing myself in it, I get a taste of escape.

What’s the best meal you had in Amsterdam?

What makes a meal good? Is it the company, the food itself, or the mood while chewing?

It must have been a meal I had when I was in love for the first time. Or, wait. The best ones were those I wasn’t able to eat—my stomach filled with butterflies.

How would you define your relationship with Berlin vs. the one with Amsterdam?

That is one hell of a question.

Berlin feels like home. When visiting Frideau—the neighborhood I grew up in—a warm sense of belonging starts filling up all the emptiness that Amsterdam has created. Or maybe it’s Almere—the small, modern city I moved to after leaving the German capital.

My little sister called me the other day. In the midst of switching schools, she visited Charlottenburg, the neighborhood in Berlin where she grew up. “My body relaxed; this is my Kiez. You know what I mean, Line?” I knew what she meant. I left Berlin naïve—I was a kid. Amsterdam changed that. It made me a woman, touched and aware. Conscious of the bad.

Berlin makes me want to have children; Amsterdam does not. Berlin makes me feel invisible; Amsterdam makes me feel too seen.

Why not move?

What places in the world that you visited so far felt the most intellectually nourishing?

This one made me think for days.

Intellectually, like studies? I did those in Amsterdam.

But if you ask me about my senses being nourished, I’d choose Italy. They have style over there—the richness in flavor, in art, in colors, and in architecture. To me, that is nourishment.

If you could move tomorrow to a different city, anywhere in the world, where would you go?

Paris. Don’t ask me to elaborate. I think all of my life-fears would just vanish in the beauty and bustle.

…Coming back to this two days later, I changed my mind. No cities for me. I want silence. Give me Tuscany; nature and calmness.

Anything else that you would like to add? A story, a memory, a note for readers.

When I was eighteen and had absolutely no clue about anything, I traveled to Bali. That’s the thing everyone does when feeling lost, right?

Well, and so I went, thinking I would reinvent myself—become someone who is content, enlightened. I forgot that I had taken myself with me. The thrill of being somewhere new doesn’t last beyond your sense of self-worth.

Whenever I pack my bag nowadays, I make sure that I’m aware of the fact that I’m packing myself, just as I am. A new place, a different environment, can bring out something exciting in me—a wave of naïve energy—but it’s always me experiencing that.

P.S. In my handbag, there’s always a bit of space left for my alter ego.

Thank you for reading. As always, I welcome your emails, notes, questions, and stories.

Onwards,

Patricia Hurducaș