10 Things I Wish I'd Know Before Moving to New York City

When I moved to New York City in the summer of 2010, there were a great many things I didn’t know about the world, like the expression “served up” or the benefits of renter’s insurance. I was fresh from college and a novice to anything remotely “adult,” ranging from high society social faux pas to basic financial awareness.

It was lucky—I suppose—that when my feet first touched this city’s bustling pavement, I landed in the safe arms of Astoria, Queens. This neighborhood held no pretention, full of old Mediterranean immigrants, middle-aged Latino families, and pockets of fresh-faced actors. Astoria was one of those places with a working blue-collar community that seemed satisfied belonging to the ever-shrinking middle class. It was custom to see the wives of firefighters shopping at the butcher’s, young nurses exiting the train, and plumbing trucks parked along the sidewalk.

My neighbor was an old Greek man who had lived in the same home since first arriving in New York. He would always ask about my roommate, Anna, or offer up grapes from his garden. Down the street from him was a loony clown with a terrifying, colorful van full of props and dead-eyed dolls. He had a yippy dog that followed him everywhere, and cameras posted outside of his apartment. (He was easily the most unsettling part of my four-year stay in Astoria.)

My landlords were an Italian couple, she a New York native and he an Italian immigrant who barely spoke English. Her northern accent was unbelievable to my delicate southern ears—she sounded like the caricature of a mobster’s wife—but Laura was kind and protective of our little home. Two of their grown children lived in my three-story walkup, a quiet building located about 15 minutes from the N train’s 30th Avenue stop.

You learn quickly when you are far from the comforts of normalcy. I would also argue that living in any large city considerably speeds up the process of finding your bearings.  You sink or you swim. You “make it”—or you don’t.

All of this to say, throughout the next several months I plan to write about the 10 things I wish I’d know before moving to the tiny universe that is New York City. 

I found this (ridiculous) video when I was cleaning out my computer, and it inspired this series. There are so many things I wish someone would have told me—but then again, maybe that would have ruined the story. 

The (Hidden) Paths of Santorini

Tip #1: The Greek Islands do not believe in signs.

I stared at the map again; then flipped to page 219 in my guidebook. “A magical way to reach the village [of Oia, Greece] is along a cliff edge walkway that rambles north from Firá… You’ll pass sage green slopes splattered with wild flowers, rich red- and coffee-colored earth and views of blue, blue sea.”

I looked up and down the dirt road, and plucked a sweaty piece of hair from my forehead. You can politely assume that I too looked “magical.”

“Alice, let’s ask this guy where the footpath is.” My travel buddy and I explained to the teenage boy what we were looking for, only to be told he’d never heard of it. We then walked toward the coast, confused, and began to follow a stone street through a quaint marketplace. Finally, we found two women who knew of this ever-elusive footpath. 

“You’re on it!” one of them said with a grin. “But it’s very far till Oia, and too hot.”

This was not the first time we’d been told that Mediterranean weather would destroy us. Every morning, Alice and I munched on Greek yogurt with sweetbread at our B&B in Perissa Beach. And every morning, the House Mamma would ask us our plans, then exclaim, “Where are your hats!?” It was my assumption she’d seen many pale-skinned guests turn into depressed lobsters.

“Thank you, we’ll be fine. We have water!” Alice and I said to our helpers. They wanted to know how much water, how much sunscreen, and how much time we had. This interrogation was only slightly concerning—but we passed their quiz and began our journey.

Tip 2: Always listen to Greek mothers.

“Going to DIE,” I said dramatically to Alice a few hours later. 

The views of Santorini and had been more than breathtaking. But after walking through a pristine resort town, full of infinity pools with sunbathers sipping cold cocktails, and then skirting the edge of a cliff, we’d arrived at a steep hill full of hot pumice rocks that burned through my shoes. 

Hot rocks on the long road to Oia. Don't wear sandals. 

I looked like a fool, hopping up the slopes of the coast like an ungraceful mountain goat, with a heavy camera attached to my neck. There were only two sips left in my water bottle, and yet we had hours till our final destination. To make matters more absurd, we'd lost the "magical" path again.

(Note: It was at this exact moment that I thought about those Israelites who wandered the desert for 40 years—how utterly terrible.)

“Tomorrow. Beach. Vacation,” I said through dry lips. I knew Alice would agree. The heat was truly incredible, killing off our conversation until we found a patch of shade under a lone tree.

Seven miles and four some hours post start time, we dragged our feet into a taverna on the cliffs of Oia. I ordered a beer while Alice sampled their honey-encrusted baklava. We didn’t talk much as our bodies unwound. 

Then that beautiful globe in the sky began to sink into a blanket of reds, pinks, and purples. The sun moved faster in Santorini—it appeared to be diving into the horizon. We watched from the roof of the taverna, completely transfixed. How could that be the same sun I admired back in New York City?

Tip 3: Cliffside hikes in Santorini are always worth it. But bring at least 2 bottles of water—and read Tip 2 again. 

[Editor's Note: This blog post is centered around a 2014 trip to Athens, Santorini, Mykonos, and Istanbul. I finally decided to blog about it a year later. Below are some photos and tips, in case you ever decide to visit!]

While in Santorini, Alice and I stayed at the Santa Barbara Hotel, about a block away from the black sand coast of Perissa Beach. Breakfast was included for about $35/night. 

One of the resorts in Fira we walked past. How we longed to jump into that pool... 

On the hike from Fira to Oia, you'll pass several pockets of resort towns, go over a few rock-filled hills, and occasionally lose the "path." Tip: Just follow the coast and keep going north.

Cliffs on the outskirts of Fira. 

The case for sunscreen. 

Santorini was formed by a volcano (not pictured), hence all the pumice rocks and multicolored beaches around the island. 

When you Google Santorini, the town of Oia is what comes up first. Note: The sunsets are world-famous, so pick your viewing spot out early. People start arriving about an hour before the sun sinks.

Alice's baklava, which I definitely sampled. 

#WorthIt