New York City

NYC, my favorite city, always has been, always will be. My parents are native New Yorkers, both from Upsate, 2.5 hours north of the City. Born and raised on opposite sides of the Hudson River, I can trace my history back to NYC as far back as 1887, when my great grandmother, Sarah, was born in the Lower East Side. I took my first trip to NYC when I was around the age ten, the Twin Towers stood tall. Times Square was filled with sex shops, XXX theaters, you could easily participate in a game of Three-card monte. I remember the boat cruise around the city, seeing burned out cars dumped into the East River, eating a Nathan’s Hot Dog for the first time. 

I have been traveling back to NYC consistently since my mid-twenties. Subway rides, long grueling walks; pizza slices, endless meals from bodegas. From a bacon, egg and cheese on a hard roll to a chicken cutlet sandwich, NYC bodegas are my preferred place to eat. Why sit down, I can eat and walk simultaneously, making my way through human traffic to reach the next destination, photograph the next piece of street art, next door or dumpster covered in graffiti, I love it all. 

I will never stop going to NYC, death do us part. For those who don’t like New York City, I claim they just haven’t figured it out, haven’t met the challenges and are unwilling to sacrifice comfort for culture. That unfortunately, is on them.