By Elizabeth Turner, Columnist
This past Saturday, OSLA hosted an Explore Next Door trip to Flushing, Queens. Students met in the Mack Center atrium at 11:15 a.m., ready for a taste of authentic Chinese cuisine. The commute took about thirty minutes and on arrival, each student stepped off the bus into the windy afternoon, full of anticipation. We were escorted to a room in the back and I noticed that the restaurant seemed to be comprised entirely of Asians. A foreign chatter permeated the air, causing my heart to float and my mouth to broaden into a satisfied smile.
Suddenly immersed in a melting pot of culture, my mind flooded with memories and moments from several months prior. I remembered the first time that I had stepped onto one of New York City's many sidewalks as an official Hofstra student. I wore a pair of red flats and rosebud earrings, the vibrant color paralleling that of the Roxy's neon sign in Times Square. City smog obscured the stars of the sky, while the blaring sirens and clack of nightclub heels increased the rate of my heartbeat. I could not deny the effervescence of New York City – its glowing lights, its ambitious people, its pulsing sentiment. I focused straight ahead on the path before me, beginning to reflect on the sentiment that all of humanity holds for New York City. As one draws nearer to the city that never sleeps, a fervent sensation within the soul rises to a crescendo; the echoes of the city become tangible and the visitor that they will either partake of the its richness or in some form contribute to it.
As I stood there that day, a tiny figurine amidst towering, steel structures, I embraced as much of the city as I could – not simply the undoubted success of the businessmen I passed in the financial district or the poised grace of the New York City Ballet dancer in Central Park, but also the sorrow of the homeless trash digger, the ugliness and filth of the used napkins and cigarette stubs littering 63rd street. One cannot, I realized, partake of the beautiful without observing the ugly. Many of us want to be revolutionaries, history makers, but in order to do so, we must understand our surroundings, we must reckon with the beauty of the sorrow; restoration can be brought to a homeless man or prostitute, nourishment and even values renewed.
Shortly after sitting down in the restaurant on Saturday, several waiters came to our table, placing dozens of dishes in the center. I must have tried at least ten different appetizers, although I cannot remember the name of a single one. There were steamed green vegetables, shrimp encrusted in fried dough and sweet goo-filled balls, decorated with sesame seeds. There were potato balls, meat pastries and coconut jello. I looked around and saw both old, white-haired Chinese men and young, vibrant adolescents. I may not yet understand or know as much as I want to about our world's beautiful and complex culture variations, let alone New York City's. But the simple act of sharing a meal with one ethnic group, partaking in their customs and tastes has propelled me one step further in my quest for knowledge, my understanding of humanity. We may not all want to travel or change the world, but as Hofstra students, we should take advantage of the large and beautiful slice right next door, if only to imbue our lives with a bit more adventure.