At the end of a shortened night the plane began its descent. Thoughts of the future vanished along with my attempts to appear indifferent as I craned my neck to admire the famous skyline. New York! The largest city in the world. I’d been to famous cities - Vienna, Copenhagen, and Amsterdam - but the very idea of New York carried a charge. This city was the gateway to America. Das Land der unbegrenzten Möglichkeiten. The land of unlimited possibilities. As the plane turned in its approach, skyscrapers swung into view. I recognized the Empire State Building’s spike and knew that I was looking at the tallest building on earth. We would be staying for four days before flying on to Greenville, South Carolina. I couldn’t wait to explore Manhattan.
Jet lag knocked me off center. My brain buzzed and my eyes burned. My father insisted that the secret to a quick adjustment was to force yourself to live by the local clock. As soon as we had stowed our luggage, we stumbled through the city to ward off sleep. I gaped at the rows of tall buildings lining the streets. I felt like I’d wandered into a roofless cathedral. My neck stiffened from staring up, up. When at last my neck tired, I lowered my gaze to encounter Rodin’s ‘Thinker,’ skaters twirling at Rockefeller Center, and, on Fifth Avenue, women in fur coats walking tiny dogs with bows above their eyes. I’d seen all this before, sometimes in color, sometimes in black and white, on large screens and small. What Hollywood had failed to convey was the noise and grit, the exhaust fumes and the littered gutters. I was surprised. The New York of my imagination was modern and clean, too young to show signs of wear.Exploring this vertical city was in itself so novel, that I didn’t notice at first that my parents had switched roles. It was my mother - guidebook in hand - who usually led our sightseeing trips to famous places. The evening before, she would have read up, so she could point out landmarks and identify architectural detail. She had dreamed of majoring in art history - instead of textile chemistry as the East German government eventually decreed - and knew how to tell a Romanesque arch from a Gothic and judge the period of a prehistoric ruin by its columns and capitals. On our last vacation to the Italian Lake District, she’d told me the Roman poet Catullus’ life story as we visited the remnants of his villa. I’d gotten so interested, I’d forgotten to keep my embarrassed distance. But in New York, her architectural references were useless, and besides, my father knew Manhattan. She left her guidebook in her purse as we followed my father’s confident lead.
When we arrived at our first restaurant for dinner, I peered into the gloomy interior. I’d never seen such a dimly lit room that wasn’t a theater or a cellar.
“Why is it so dark?” I asked my father.
He shrugged. “ I don’t know. A lot of American restaurants are like that. They seem to think it’s elegant.”
My mother wondered:” How can they see what they’re eating?” and started toward an empty table.
“Stop,” my father hissed. My mother froze. “You have to wait for the hostess to seat you!” My mother’s shoulders sagged.
“Why can’t you pick your own table?” I asked.
“That’s just how it’s done,” my father said.
As we waited, I soaked up every strange detail. There were no tablecloths. The plates and silverware sat directly on wood grain Formica. Ruby pressed glass goblets held dark red napkins. Once at our table, we pulled them out and placed them in our laps, and a waitress filled the goblets with ice cubes and water. My father had told me that Americans put ice in their drinks, but why were they giving us water? All my life I’d been told not to drink tap water because I’d get sick. “Smell it, “ my father whispered” it’s full of chlorine.” That it was. It smelled like the Krefeld public swimming pool. I couldn’t overcome a lifetime of training. I asked my father to order a Cola for me instead
He also ordered shrimp cocktail, salad, steak and a baked potato. I was excited about the shrimp. They were such a special, expensive treat. When they arrived, I was puzzled. The shrimp were huge. I bit into one and felt my taste buds wilt. Compared to the tiny North Sea shrimp we ate at home, they had no flavor. My father so clearly enjoyed them that I gave them another chance. They still tasted bland, but I liked the cocktail sauce. My father said:” They’re just different. You’ll like them once you get used to them.”
Our steaks arrived, each one sizzling on a metal platter. “One of these is as much meat as I normally buy for all of us for dinner! “ my mother exclaimed, as she picked up her fork and knife. She wrinkled her forehead. “ I don’t know if I can eat it all.”
My father grinned. He promised me that, since meat was so cheap here, we could have steaks every week. That sounded great to me. As I dug in with pleasure, my mother fretted. If she ate the whole steak, she’d get a stomachache. My father reassured her that Americans didn’t think anything of leaving some food on their plates. “ And if they don’t want to waste it, they ask for a ‘doggy bag’ and take the rest home,” he explained. We were both incredulous. Take food home from a restaurant? It sounded unspeakably rude and admirably practical at the same time. Did they really feed it to the dog? My father shrugged. How could anyone know? I’d been making good progress with my steak, but the foil-wrapped baked potato was another mystery. My father showed us how to split the potato’s top, squeeze it open and scoop out the insides. I love sour cream, and quickly realized that I could use the potato to indulge in lots of it by slathering each forkful.
After that first meal, I was sold on steak and baked potato. I added the meal to my list of foreign favorites. In Italy, I’d fallen in love with the custom of sprinkling grated Parmesan into my soups, and I relished the grilled lamb sausages they served in Yugoslavia, the huge selection of cheeses in Denmark and the potato croquettes sold in the streets in the Netherlands. It hadn’t penetrated yet that I wouldn’t be going home to restaurants where I could count on the menu to feature Schnitzel and Gulaschsuppe. 