A new city, a new home, a new place to explore.
It was a strange time to move to New York. We arrived on April 1st, 2020, flying on an empty plane between empty airports, at the peak of the first wave of the Coronavirus pandemic. At the time we were unsure if we made the right decision, but looking back in many ways it worked out for the best. Shortly after our arrival, cases plummeted in NYC as the pandemic surged in other parts of the country. Most of the people here took it seriously and the local government worked hard to educate people and implement new rules to help limit the impact of the disease. Masks were prevalent everywhere we went, and we changed our lifestyle to stay as safe as possible. Our days meant working from home, cooking from home, and long masked walks through our new home city, exploring new neighborhoods.
Rather than the hectic energy of the big city - the rushing crowds, honking cars, street vendors, and rumble of subways - we were greeted with empty streets, closed stores, and a shortage of toilet paper. It was surreal to wander through the streets of Manhattan, literally walking in the road to avoid people on the narrow sidewalks thanks to the lack of cars. The city was quiet - one of the things that struck us the most. We could hear birds singing in the morning. There were more pedestrians and bikers than cars and it had a dramatic impact on the sounds of the city.
Walking north, up the center of 5th avenue.
Perhaps a once in a lifetime opportunity: Times Square with no crowds or cars. Simply two bikers amongst the towers and billboards.
The absence of cars was striking. It made urban spaces incredibly pleasant. Streets were calm and safe. Parks were dominated by the sounds of nature rather than the traffic surrounding them. Walking and Biking became the primary form of transportation as people stayed away from the subway and most stuck close to home. We saw adults learning to ride a bike for the first time using the Citibike bike share system on the streets of Brooklyn. Sidewalks became less cramped because people could safely spill out into the streets.
Parks became centers of community life until the Mayor finally agreed to close some select neighborhood streets for cars so people had more space. Socially distanced neighborhood events started popping up with masked bands and DJs playing impromptu concerts. Restaurants could finally put tables out in the street to stay in business, and families would show up with picnics and games and set up where once there was just 4 lanes of traffic. As the weather warmed up and spring turned to Summer the city started feeling more like a city again, as fear subsided and people started to venture out and use urban spaces.
Every weekend they would block off Vanderbilt Ave to cars and it would become an open street for people, bikes, restaurants, and music. Hopefully this transformation outlasts the pandemic.
It has been a fascinating time to be here. Watching the city rapidly evolve and adjust as new information about the virus was balanced with the needs of millions of people demonstrated how flexible we could be and how quickly we can make changes to the built environment. We don’t need to waste years in committees, running lengthy and fruitless community engagement workshops, and haggling with politicians. We don’t need to invest millions of dollars to build new infrastructure. We need to be nimble. Experimentation should be celebrated. Failure should be tolerated as it becomes lessons learned to make the next projects better. Change doesn’t need to cost millions when some paint, planters, and barricades can make a traffic clogged street into a linear park for a few hundred dollars.
I hope some of the great changes we saw in the city this year aren’t fleeting responses to the pandemic and instead stick around long after the vaccine makes it safe to gather again. I hope people saw how great it was to have safe streets for walking and biking. I hope most people realized that birdsongs sound better than car horns when waking up. I hope people saw that Vanderbilt (or their local closed streets) on the weekends could be a celebration of community and that is a better use of space than as a thoroughfare for automobiles.
Ultimately, I hope that the sacrifices we made as individuals, as a community, as a city, and as a country to get through the pandemic can lead to positive changes to the places and spaces we call home.