I kind of sort of don't really like New York City so much.
I wouldn't go so far as to say that I hate it, per se, but it is definitely not my cup of tea.
I forget this every time I go. And I go a lot. Many of my nearest and dearest friends reside within the boroughs (and in New Jersey) and being able to see people from all walks of my life on the same weekend is a blessing. Every weekend I spend in New York is jam packed full of brunches, bars, subway rides up and down town, and events that aren't quite making it to Boston. I spend lots and lots of money to get there and to enjoy myself there, and for the most part I usually do. But there is always this feeling I have of knowing that I don't belong.
|5th Avenue Apple Store insanity, winter 2006.|
|Cannot believe I'm making this photo public. Do not comment on hideously colored leggings, the fact that they are leggings, the fact that they do not match winter coat, or snaggle tooth. At least my brother's cute.|
I rarely feel unsafe in cities and New York is no exception. However, something about its residents makes me feel unwelcome and like I don't belong. Just walking down the street, I am self-conscious and self-aware, trying hard to blend in and seem like I could be a resident, like I could maybe, possibly live there. I know so many people who either grew up within the city's borders or who live there now and I like to think that we have a lot in common, but there's still a little bit of that small-town girl in me that doesn't quite mesh with the hustle and bustle of New York, even though I'm a real Boston girl now. It's just not my style. Plus I feel like a giant idiot when I emerge from the subway and just cannot get my bearings. I think every single time I came above ground this weekend, I ended up walking one block in the wrong direction. The exit signs to the respective corners should really be better labeled!
That's not to say I didn't enjoy myself though. This past weekend fit in the summer trip category. The primary purpose of the visit was to see the Royal Danish Ballet perform at Lincoln Center on Saturday night with Ariel and Jonelle, two of my fabulous fellow DIS co-alumni of the public health program. We enjoyed the performance of La Sylphide immensely, and especially enjoyed the fact that we could discern the male lead's cheekbones all the way from our fifth ring seats. Those Danes. Nobody even compares.
|At least in the past fifteen years I've learned to dress myself somewhat.|
|Do-as-you-go fashion. Insanity.|