The first time back

An autumn trip back to New York as a visitor

Last week we visited New York for a dear friend’s wedding. It was my first time back in the city since moving, and another friend who’d moved away warned me how strange it would feel to be in the city and not have a home there. We woke up so early that first morning, totally jet-lagged, and took a long walk. We’d booked an Airbnb in Prospect Lefferts Gardens, my old neighborhood. The location was important to me. I wanted to be back in a place that felt familiar, to walk down my favorite streets again. But then it was also so hard. We walked down the street I’d lived on, past rows of brownstones with their carefully tended gardens. It was sunny and the fall air was crisp - a sensation you don’t really get in Ireland - and the ground was covered in brilliant yellow leaves. I saw a mother and son walking down the street, looking at carved pumpkins sitting on stoops. These people used to be my neighbors, and I felt so viscerally jealous of them. I started to cry.

I knew my first time back in the city would be hard, and none of these grief feelings were a surprise. It is so strange, though, to be living in this liminal space. You can anticipate how things will be but of course there is no way to preemptively feel all the feelings. My heart is in Brooklyn and my heart is in Dublin. Other pieces of my heart, too, are in Oklahoma, and in Washington DC and Dallas and Ypsilanti and every other city where people that I love live. How to navigate this feeling of being split between so many places? I know that with all feelings, the only way out is through. I would cry some more that day, and during other parts of the visit too. We kept walking down the streets I still loved so much.

We went to a popular Caribbean restaurant around the corner from my old apartment - first in line at opening, jet lag perks! - and ordered four chickpea doubles to share. We took them back to our Airbnb, which was airy and lovely, with beautiful old hardwood floors and molding. It wasn’t my apartment but it was such a nice landing pad all the same. We ate all the doubles and they were just what I remembered and they tasted so, so good. Everything has a special savor when you’ve just gotten off of a transatlantic flight and then slept for 10 hours and now you’re free, with a whole week ahead of you in a city that you love. Life lately has been so full of jet lag and feelings and big shifts. I am ready to settle down a bit for the winter, even though I’m so grateful for the busy fall I’ve had.

Chickpea double assembly at De Hot Pot in PLG.

Here are some other things I ate and saw and experienced during my week back in Brooklyn:

A literal tower of seafood at Deux Chats in Williamsburg, ordered for Ellen’s bachelorette party. I felt like a literal king eating this. (And, the next morning, I felt like a very old, dying king with gout.)

The Thierry Mugler exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum, which was unreal (thank you to my friend Carol, who is a member at the museum and took me to a preview of the show - I felt so incredibly fancy!):

All of my old favorite haunts in Prospect Park, featuring the absolute last of the fall foliage (and many, many fallen leaves).

A very fortifying bowl of soup featuring two types of noodles (!) from Kopitiam, eaten while running errands in lower Manhattan:

A very cozy dinner with Mandy at June Wine Bar featuring their absolutely insane duck breast (if you are in Brooklyn - run, don’t walk to eat this):

The Kimono Style exhibit at the Met - so much good fashion on display in NYC right now! I never made it to the Met often since it was so far from where I lived in Brooklyn, but it’s always lovely to pay a visit.

A gorgeous bowl of dilly, chicken-y soup from Agi’s Counter, where I ended up eating no less than three meals in a week:

And, finally, this Brooklyn native, who I had the pleasure of sitting next to while waiting on a cortado: