New York City, often depicted as an almost mythical destination in magazines and movies, presents a captivating paradox. It’s a place that can feel both unreachable and overwhelmingly real upon arrival. I’ve experienced a profound love-hate relationship with its relentless energy, the constant “rat race” that propels you back to your apartment only to be met with the persistent hum of the city outside. Yet, there’s an undeniable thrill, a perpetual fashion show, and an endless commute that fuels an environment brimming with opportunity, if you’re willing to seek it out.
Over my few months living here, I’ve discovered that to truly live in New York, one must curate a personal experience. For me, this means embracing the city not just in its sleepless, vibrant core, but also in its quieter moments, when it appears to be napping. It’s about discovering the New York that exists at its periphery, often overlooked by those who see it solely from the inside out.
One evening, my boyfriend and I were in a taxi speeding up the FDR towards Grand Central, embarking on a weekend getaway. As dusk settled, the sky transformed into a canvas of orange, casting a warm glow over the buildings and illuminating the Brooklyn Bridge. The skyscrapers’ lights began to twinkle, a gentle transition from the sun’s fading duty. The city, viewed from the river, appeared immense. It felt cinematic as our cab driver navigated the East River, weaving through traffic with an urgency that made us feel like celebrities. My attention, like a camera lens, darted from the cityscape to Brooklyn, then back to our speeding vehicle as we traversed one of the world’s most iconic metropolises. I turned to my boyfriend, who was captivated by the view from his window, his hand clasped in mine. It was a rare, romantic moment in a city that doesn’t readily display its affections.
A few weeks later, we found ourselves wandering downtown on a particularly cold and windy night. Starting from the Freedom Tower, we navigated the historic cobblestone streets of the South Street Seaport. Drawn to the water, we hopped a barricade and walked to the pier’s edge, fully embracing the bracing wind. With the Brooklyn Bridge to our left, we turned to behold the downtown skyscrapers clustered together, their lights a hard, yellow-diamond against the inky night sky. Standing on that pier, gazing at the tip of Manhattan, we felt an ownership of the city. It no longer dwarfed us but enveloped us, a powerful reminder that perspective is gained through distance—whether observing a skyscraper or navigating life itself.
Later that season, we embarked on a signature midnight walk. Beginning from my boyfriend’s apartment, adjacent to the shimmering, ziggurat-like New York by Gehry, one of the tallest residential towers in the Americas, we headed towards the newly completed Oculus. This Santiago Calatrava-designed World Trade Center transportation hub felt like entering the belly of a great white whale or finding shelter beneath the poised wings of a dove.
The expansive, white corridor extends underground, crossing beneath West Street, eventually leading us back up an escalator to Brookfield Place. On occasion, we’d find respite beneath the soaring indoor palm trees that stretched towards the ceiling. More often, however, we’d exit through the rear doors and settle at the end of the dock, where megayachts are berthed. From this vantage point, we’d watch the endless stream of planes traversing the Hudson River, speculating about their destinations and origins as they disappeared as mere lights in the sky. I often wondered if we were both dreaming of the myriad places we could journey to from this very spot.
Perhaps my suburban upbringing influences my need to escape the urban congestion and seek solace by the water. It might be a deep-seated love for nature. Or, possibly, these locations, favored by my boyfriend, have simply become cherished places through association.
It’s ironic that these New York experiences, the ones I had hoped for when I moved here, were not fully recognized until I began writing this piece. It was then I realized they all occurred at the edges of this famously edgy city.
