It’s a magical moment when it happens. You emerge from a large tube, exhausted and smelly having shared air and space with hundreds of other people for 16 hours. You’ve come from 29°C temperatures so even though its heated, the immigration hall is still chilly enough for you to reach for your inadequate puffer jacket that has seen you adequately through the Joburg winter. How much colder can it be, you’ve said to yourself a dozen times. The answer is: much — well in the minus degrees much. You catch a taxi — $70 to get you to your Airbnb in West Chelsea and settle back to drink in the delicious early morning sights and sounds. It’s 7am and New York, the city that never sleeps, is rousing itself from a gentle snooze. Already the Van Wyck expressway is teeming, drivers with obligatory coffee cups balanced precariously on steering wheels. As you edge through traffic, you catch a glimpse of tall buildings off to the left, glinting in the sunshine. You blow on your hands in the chilly ca...

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