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Living In New York City

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New York City, the American dream’s shining icon and the cultural mixing pot, was just a name I knew when I was young. Nine years ago, I finally set foot in the fabled city when my family immigrated to the United States. The gigantic airport, JFK International, spanned miles and its terminals stood proudly over the jumbo jets below. That night, nausea from the plane’s descension and the entropic motions of my aunt’s Jeep dissuaded me from seeing the outside world. I rested my head on my mom’s lap while imagining what the city was like. Just a few days ago, I lived in ShenZhen. On the opposite side of the Hong Kong, ShenZhen shared much of its prosperity. Thus, I believed that New York City is no different from where I lived. However, I wanted to see the subway system that many other cities modeled after. I was also interested in learning the American culture, such as religions and holidays. The concept of religion was alien to me, partly because most people in China were atheists. I woke up early in the morning, eager to see the snow outside and all the “foreign” novelties. In the kitchen, my aunt and cousin were making toast and took out glass bottles of Snapple. After breakfast, I conversed with him in broken English. We had many common interests, namely video games and biking. So adhering to those, I spent the next few days growing accustomed to the new city. New York City, in its grand size, cannot be explored in a few days or weeks. Its complexity, in spite of the

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