I have always loved the idea of living in a big city. The panorama, the skyline, the energy. New York is known for its diversity, availability, night life, and the food. Especially if you grow up watching Sex in the City, it becomes a dream to move to the big apple and fall in love. When my job announced that I will be going to New York for a few weeks, I was beyond ecstatic.
I spend most of my time attending conferences and workshops. The remaining days I stayed with a good friend, who have been living in New York her entire life. I wanted to get the best of New York. That means avoiding all tourist sites and overpopulated areas. I wanted the authentic NY experience. The energy of this city is wonderful. The cultural diversity. The smart witty people, the vastly different neighborhoods, the ambition, the dreams that are larger than life. Although I was enjoying myself, I could not help but wonder what about this place people love so much? New York is not exotic, it is exhausting. Something about its liveliness is quite depressing. I found it to be too pretentious. Over 8 million people and I felt it vacant. Echoing. Beyond the ambition and dreams lie heavy eyes and emptiness. Perhaps the idea of this place is enchanting. Perhaps I am not a city person as I once thought. Perhaps I enjoy the quite nights and wide streets. or perhaps I have no association to this place. New York is a reality I cannot claim as mine.
Thank you New York, but I must go now.