The Rock Rollercoaster

2. Now I'm Here

Picture of Lyra ------------------------------------->

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Stepping out of the airport and into New York City was like Lucy walking through the back of the wardrobe. Awkward analogy I know, but that's honestly what it felt like to me. Having spent my entire life in possibly the smallest town in England, the Big Apple was completely foreign. And I loved it.

The rush of the people along the pavement, the signature yellow taxis made me grin. This was my kind of place - I had no patience for the lazy atmosphere of my hometown. The speed in this new city was exactly where I belonged, what I needed. Glancing up at the intimidatingly towering skyscrapers, I wondered where I should go now. Check into some hotel using the life savings in my duffel bag? Or just wander around aimlessly, get purposefully lost and in doing so, maybe discover somewhere.

My decision made, I turned straight down the next turn-off from the main pavement. The way I saw it, getting lost was not only the best way to get acquainted with the city's ins and outs, but also the way to find places. The people around me walked with purpose, long strides dead-set on their destination. They didn't stop to take in the surroundings because it was a scene they saw everyday. I, however, gaped at every part of each street I journeyed down.

I walked past coffee shops, clothes shops, charity shops, the lot. I had never seen so much action in day to day life before. Everywhere I looked, there was something new to stare at.

After a while of lugging the huge duffel bag down every side-street and alleyway, my feet were aching. Wondering where was the best place to stop and rest for a bit, I closed my eyes and faced the wall of shops across the road. Pointing my finger out in front of me, I waved it around in the direction of the shops and then stopped.

The shop my finger had pointed closest to was a music shop. Go figure.

Grinning, I set out across the road with a load of business people, goths, joggers, people of every size, shape and colour. Approaching the music store, I looked through its dusty windows. It was the kind of shop that had not only shelves upon shelves of CD's and records, but also piles of them placed haphazard around the room, in terrifying towers.

The sign above the door read 'AMOR MUSICIS'. I wondered what language it was. A familiar one, as I could deduce that it had something to do with the word 'love' but I didn't have a clue. It was pretty though, and suited the old-fashioned, run-down shop perfectly.

Walking into the shop, the air stopped feeling so heavy and instead felt light, and I knew instantly that I could spend a whole day in there if I wished. There were only three other people in there - a punk couple flicking through the Paramore section, and the cashier who was buried behind a Mick Jagger biography.

Feeling completely at ease, I dropped the duffel bag at the end of an aisle and went down the first lot of shelves I came to. Trailing my fingers across the smooth CD cases, I smiled whenever I brushed a familiar name. I pulled out a few favourites just to read the names of some of the most iconic songs ever printed on the back.

The punk couple had approached the till, a stack of records in each of their arms. They hadn't spoke a word to each other whilst I had been in the shop, and they still didn't talk, but he wordlessly passed over his records to her as she stacked them on the counter. As soon as his hands were empty, his fingers sought hers. I found it beautiful that even without taking, these people emitted such chemistry and comfort with each other. It was rare to find such a trusting, happy relationship nowadays.

As the couple passed me on their way out, the girl looked back at me. She smiled hesitantly and then glanced down at the CD my hand had paused on.

"I'd definitely recommend that," She said, gesturing to the CD. Her boyfriend looked back and nodded in agreement.