Never Meet Your Heroes — What happens when we finally immerse ourselves in our dream travel locations?

We’ve all heard the adage “never meet your heroes”, but what happens when we apply this same principle to the first time we experience our dream travel destinations? What happens when we finally immerse ourselves in the locale we’ve felt drawn to explore for as long as we can remember? Does the motto still apply? 

As I book my inaugural visit to New York City (a writing trip, at that), my curiosity has reached its peak. I can’t help but wonder if planning a solo trip to a location I have undeniably romanticized is a wise idea. Is there a way I can soften my predetermined expectations in order to receive the true magic of the city? As a substitute to further pondering, I’ve decided to book my flights, follow my impulse, and share my experience—and intimate encounter—with The City That Never Sleeps.

By Casey Balon

@iamcaseybalon 

The Unbridled Pulse of the City

I step off the plane and immediately attempt to locate the renowned buzz beneath my feet. (It feels as though an essential part of me is waiting for me on the tarmac of the LaGuardia Airport.)

In a flash, I am whisked away into a somewhat questionable Uber heading to The Village. During our forty-minute drive from Queens into Manhattan, my body begins to unwind. For the next week, I intend to hold my experiences lightly while simultaneously fully embracing the gifts—and inevitable lessons—this potent city has to offer. For months now, I have been dreaming of sitting in a West Village café as I write the first collection for my book. If I’m being completely honest, I’ve had a vision of sipping on a decadent coffee while writing in New York for nearly a decade now. Now that I’m here, I’m not willing to lack presence during this adventure. This is to say, I am all in.

A Slice of Greenwich Village

I’m sitting on a bench in Washington Square Park. (I can hardly believe this moment has arrived.) It’s my first morning in New York, and I’ve already explored Carrie Bradshaw’s townhouse at 66 Perry Street, ate at the restaurant below the apartment building from Friends, and found the perfect book for my niece from Three Lives & Company. My empty latte cup sits quietly beside me to my left, as if she’s watching the park too. The rainwater is beginning to soak through the edges of my trench coat, which seems to be the perfect way to ground me back into reality.

The NYU campus lives straight across from me. A couple wearing combat boots and leather coats walks by. In this moment, I am more than at peace; I feel a change brewing deep inside me. A visceral shift, perhaps, has been initiated from within. As theatrical as it may sound, I look forward to meeting the version of me who emerges on the other side of this voyage. In fact, the lessons in discernment have already commenced.

Travel as an Essential Gateway for Self-Discovery

I receive a lesson on resilience during my first night at The Walker Hotel—one which is seemingly more emotionally costly than I typically prefer. I am visited by an intoxicated man persistently knocking on my door for prolonged stretches of time, on multiple occasions. After a wild night of disarray, several bouts of fearful tears, and an eventual successful coordination with the security staff, I am able to fall asleep by 6 a.m.

Welcome to New York.

I can’t help but giggle. This trip, after all, was intended to provide an opportunity for me to explore what would happen when I finally met the city I’ve unintentionally pedestalized for most of my adult life.  

After I hop out of the shower, I receive a call from the hotel manager, whose validation provides the perfect balm for my tenderized nervous system. A move to the sixteenth floor, followed by a refund for my first night’s stay, helps to dissolve the disenchantment. “Ok, I’m setting the intention for the rest of my experience here to be phenomenal!”

“It will be!” he promises.

Resurrecting a Sense of Enchantment

NYC is one of those places that has surpassed my travel bucket list and embedded its way into my heart. As someone who only lightly fantasized about her wedding day, I’ve always held a somewhat cliché, yet enduring, vision of getting engaged on the Brooklyn Bridge. Before establishing rapport with the city, my heart had circled this place on the map. Spending considerable time here has always been a part of the life story I have crafted for myself.

Unlike other travel destinations, New York isn’t a city that has crept up on me nor waltzed into my life unexpectedly. When I went to Paris, I didn’t have preconceived notions of the city beforehand. I had always wanted to go, but not in the same heart-palpating way. So when I got to know The City of Light, I was beyond blown away. There were very few expectations living rent-free in my subconscious. This allowed me to fully enjoy and experience the city for what it truly had to offer. (And it took my breath away.) I was melancholic, even on the verge of grieving, when I returned home. In Paris, I had uncovered parts of me I had longed to meet—and it was an experience, a grid point, that delivered more than I could have anticipated on my own.

What exactly is it, then, about New York? What substance, quality, or texture does it seem to possess that has me so deeply enthralled?

I realize perhaps it’s not so much about the city itself, but about who I believe I get to be when I am here. What I truly desire is to be the fully expressed version of myself. I hold a belief that this sense of self is supported by the vital nature of the pulse of this city.

This revelation leaves me with a question I will continue to ask when I feel drawn to explore a new place: What do I believe to be true about this city, and who do I believe I get to be when I am there?

What really happens when we pedestalize someone, something, or (in this case) some place?

Much like in human-to-human relationships, whenever we place something outside of ourselves on a pedestal, we immediately create distance between us and the other. This sense of separation positions the thing (in this case, the city) above us, making it more difficult to foster a true sense of intimacy, not to mention a quality relationship built on openness, mutual respect, and an organic exchange of energy.

Just as fantasizing about the idea of someone is much less intimidating (and often less complex) than developing a real relationship with them, the same theory tends to apply to other areas of our lives. It’s easier to daydream about a city, discounting the potential obstacles that may arise while we are there, than it is to willingly sign up for the full spectrum of the experience—the glorious, the difficult, the miraculous, the terrifying, the awe-inspiring, and the mundane, all in one.

The moment we accept someone (or some place) for who they are is the exact moment we move from idealization to true partnership. There is nothing that opens up more opportunity for beauty than this.

If I am willing to see New York City through this lens, this creates the potential for me to enjoy the city and allow it to leave a lasting impression on me. By decreasing the pressure I am unconsciously placing on my experience, there is room for me to be met (and surprised) in ways I wouldn’t be able to imagine on my own.

Harnessing a Perspective of Reciprocity: Shifting from an Energy of Taking to Giving

Powerful relationships are often denoted by a sense of reciprocity where both parties are pouring patience, compassion, tenderness, joy, novelty, and other forms of energy into the dynamic. A striking way to shift our internal state is to move away from the question of “What experiences is this city providing for me?” to asking the question: “What vibrancy and sense of vitality am I bringing to this city?”

Energetic hygiene has always been one of my top priorities (and we all know how essential our energy management is when we’re traveling). With sore bodies from long flights, shifts in our sleeping routines and schedules, processing anticipation and other emotions, enduring exposure to crowds, and experimenting with different forms of transportation, new foods, the list goes on . . . travel is one of the most compelling avenues for personal transformation and inner healing. With such a powerful catalyst for our growth, a new city can usher us past the edges of our comfort zone, beckoning us to reinvent our self-concept in real time, encouraging us to take responsibility for our inner resources and vitality. 

I wake up on Saturday and decide to embrace this perspective. The more I allow myself to meet whatever emotions are present in the moment, the more I soften into bringing gratitude and joy to the people I meet. Seemingly, the more I amplify energy in this way, the more I am surrounded by beautiful encounters and incredible people.

Overheard in New York: Receiving More Than I Could Have Imagined

The minute I make the decision to embody a state of reciprocity (the minute I begin to be the ‘walking answer’ to the question: “What vibrancy and sense of vitality can I bring to this city?”) is the exact instance I start receiving a plethora of inspiration and material for my book.

It’s 7 a.m., and I walk up to the counter of yet another café on 6^th Avenue. I overhear a mom trying to convince her four-year-old daughter to come to church with her.

“But Mom! I went when I was baptized.”

The dialogue I overhear in coffee shops reaches another level. More and more locals begin to strike up conversations with me. I speak with an elderly man in my new favourite Italian market, Travelers Poets & Friends, and he emphasizes how rare it is to see a young woman feverishly writing with pen and paper these days. An NYPD officer in Brooklyn insists I take his spot in the line at Devoción, but immediately closes the conversation when he finds out I’m from Saskatchewan. (I chuckle.) I have a three-hour conversation with a newfound companion at Senza Gluten. We marvel about how we can order whatever we desire from the menu (it is 100% gluten-free), and he tells me about his life and his travels and his partner. My third Uber driver has lived in NYC his entire life. He tells me, “Go to House of Lasagna, and tell them Alan sent you. You will get the family treatment. Once you live in this city for twelve years, you will feel like a New Yorker.”

Not only are my interactions deepening, so is my writing.

The Art of De-Pedestalizing without De-Romanticizing

As my time in New York comes to an end, I begin to see myself returning here more often. I realize how short the flights actually are (typically no more than seven hours from Saskatoon, including a connection in Toronto), and I grasp how realistic it could be to make New York a regular part of my professional, social, and creative life.

Harnessing the energy of reciprocity has allowed me to initiate a dynamic relationship with this city, and this city with me. I’ve watched as my dear friend—a woman who has called this city home for her entire life—moves in and out of diners and shops, familiar with the owners and cashiers in the same way one is in a small town. I’ve sauntered from The West Village to Chelsea and SoHo and Tribeca, and I’ve taken the subway to Dumbo and Greenpoint and Astoria and The Bronx, and I have received a glimpse into the profound rawness, attraction, and diversity of everyday life here. It’s all very real—no longer a ‘dream destination’ but a living, breathing place I feel curious to get to know more.

Just as in the way we end up having to face that our heroes and heroines are not perfect creatures, I have been able to dismantle the illusionary pedestal (and dissolve the distance) between New York and me. The best part is: by doing this, I respect and love the city more, and—dare I say—I suspect she feels the same about me.

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About the Writer:

You can find her publication, Casey Jacque, at www.caseyjacque.com and follow for daily updates on Pinterest at https://www.pinterest.ca/CaseyJacque/.

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