MY LAST DAY IN NEW YORK WILL BE SPENT VISITING THE STATUE OF LIBERTY AND ELLIS ISLAND.

FROM LADY LIBERTY TO ELLIS ISLAND

The ferry crossing takes 15 minutes. From the deck of the boat, the Manhattan skyline and the famous Brooklyn Bridge appear in another light, another facet. Lady Liberty sees from afar. As we approach, the statue becomes more and more impressive by the power and the symbol that it represents. Its name “Freedom Enlightening the World”. I find the allegory very beautiful and I am proud to think that this monument, so visited, so powerful, is a gift, a pledge of friendship from France to America.

Once landed on the island, the Lady unfolds in front of me to her full height. It is majestic on its pedestal placed on a carpet of emerald green lawns. I go around it several times attracted like a magnet by the slightest detail. I scrutinize her from every angle. I watch her face, the movement of the raised arm holding the torch, symbolizing the fight against oppression, the solar crown representing the 7 continents and the 7 seas of the globe, the draping of the dress and the broken chains of slavery placed at his feet. His left hand holds a tablet on which appears the date of July 4, 1776, the date of the declaration of independence of the United States. So I think power, courage, determination, hope. The hope of a better life, for thousands of people who came from old Europe to try their luck.

I pose for a moment at the feet of the old lady and I look away. I imagine the boats approaching the port of New York and the cries of joy of these men, women and children who have come to try their luck in this new world with in their pockets a passport for a new life. What were their thoughts when they finally saw Miss Liberty after an often long and exhausting journey? What have they become? Did they succeed or was El Dorado a mirage?

Despite the hustle and bustle of tourists around me, this place is like a haven of peace conducive to reflection. Here, I want to dwell for a moment on what the word freedom means today. It's a nice word Freedom. You feel a lightness when you pronounce it, like a breeze caressing your cheek. It is a feminine word, which inspires sweetness and tenderness. It was declaimed, sung, shouted. We desired him, trampled on him or savored him, we mourned him, we built barricades and undid the bonds around him. It's a word that has survived the ages and will continue its path, perfectly traced for some and far too sinuous for others.

This moment makes me realize that having the chance to travel, to realize some of my dreams and to experience emotions like these, that's also Freedom!

I take the ferry before reaching Manhattan to make a stop on Ellis Island, the small neighboring island where the National Museum of Immigration of the United States is located. This superb red and white building saw the landing, between 1892 and 1954, of 12 million people, most of whom came from Europe and dreamed of freedom and hope.

Ellis Island National museum of immigration
Image source: Wikimedia

See also: How to climb to the crown of the Statue of Liberty?

When I enter the building, the image of these families comes to my mind penetrating in single file in this immense hall, exhausted by their painful journey and finally treading the promised land. To visit this place is to share a little of the destiny of these men and women. I perceive a kind of fervor and respect that emanates from the place. Spread over several half-floors, archives, photos, objects and a pile of old suitcases bearing witness to the past...Walking through these corridors, I have the impression of touching the souls of these people, their doubts, their fears and their desire to build a new life. For some, it's months or maybe years spent saving penny by penny to be able to fund that famous trip, then endless days crammed into a boat. Once landed on the island, the first hours are trying, even humiliating: we examine them, we inspect their teeth, their skin, their body, it is the obligatory passage to obtain the famous sesame and to have the right to enter America. Those who are rejected must board the same ship that brought them, taking with them the dream of an El Dorado turned to dust. Those who are admitted go into the unknown. For some a great adventure awaits them, for others a life of exile, dispossessed little by little of their ancient culture to marry that of their host country. My chest tightens at the sight of black and white photos of these faces of all origins which nevertheless have written entire pages of New York history. it is the obligatory passage to obtain the famous sesame and to have the right to enter America. Those who are rejected must board the same ship that brought them, taking with them the dream of an El Dorado turned to dust. Those who are admitted go into the unknown. For some a great adventure awaits them, for others a life of exile, dispossessed little by little of their ancient culture to marry that of their host country. My chest tightens at the sight of black and white photos of these faces of all origins which nevertheless have written entire pages of New York history. it is the obligatory passage to obtain the famous sesame and to have the right to enter America. Those who are rejected must board the same ship that brought them, taking with them the dream of an El Dorado turned to dust. Those who are admitted go into the unknown. For some a great adventure awaits them, for others a life of exile, dispossessed little by little of their ancient culture to marry that of their host country. My chest tightens at the sight of black and white photos of these faces of all origins which nevertheless have written entire pages of New York history. For some a great adventure awaits them, for others a life of exile, dispossessed little by little of their ancient culture to marry that of their host country. My chest tightens at the sight of black and white photos of these faces of all origins which nevertheless have written entire pages of New York history. For some a great adventure awaits them, for others a life of exile, dispossessed little by little of their ancient culture to marry that of their host country. My chest tightens at the sight of black and white photos of these faces of all origins which nevertheless have written entire pages of New York history.

A whole part of the museum is devoted to testimonies of sons and daughters, grandsons and granddaughters of migrants. In these videos, all smiles, they tell their family, their story, their secrets, all grateful to this great nation for allowing them to be what they are today: real Americans. But American nationality is earned! On a whole section of the wall are more than 100 questions that candidates must answer to become Americans. It is necessary to know perfectly the history of the United States, many articles of the Constitution, characters having marked their time in the field of arts, music or politics. I test my knowledge and find that I am not really ready to change nationality!

What also struck me a lot during this visit were these small desks on which self-service computers are installed. They contain almost all the archives and especially the identity of the migrants who passed through Ellis Island on the day of their landing as well as the medical and administrative reports made on their arrival. This is how many Americans have been able to reconstruct their family history. I consulted the database by entering my name but the search did not yield anything. I haven't found any uncle from America, too bad!

These two visits will put an end to my first trip to New York. Returning to Manhattan, and setting foot on solid ground, I had an emotional thought for all those who before me made the crossing from Ellis Island, but never to leave again.