New York, New York
There are millions of reasons to live in New York. Matt and I have often entertained the idea of moving — NY needs school teachers; Matt can write anywhere. We dreamed of getting Elliott up on a Saturday and just going to the Natural History Museum for the day. Yeah, okay, so we’ve romanticized the idea. A lot.
We were in NY the summer before Elliott was born. It wasn’t the first time for either of us, but it was our first time together. If you have ever traveled with Matt and me, then you know how we operate: I’m in charge of directions, getting taxis, talking to people, keeping all the tickets, making plans. Matt’s in charge of making sure we stay down-to-earth by saying things like, “Is a hot dog really different here?” And when I say “yes”, then he is in charge of acquiescing to me. Well, he’s also in charge of noticing when I’m about to cry and fixing the problem. Or laughing at me. It goes back and forth.
Anyway, it’s easy to fall in love with a place when you get to go, be a tourist, and go home. However, no one can deny that New York has an energy to it that stimulates creativity. I wrote the first few lines of a new short story while watching an electrical storm rage above the Manhattan skyline. I got lost in a book on the subway. (I could rant about how much I miss public transportation as my only method of travel — I read so much during my time in Japan when I just took the train everywhere.)
Here is another reason NY rocks. A woman at Powell’s the other day told me about this place:
It’s a book store that divides up its books by location. How cool is that? Are you in the mood for Japanese literature? Go to the Japan section. I wanted to hop right on a plane and go shop there as soon as I heard about it. If Julie Powell (of Julie and Julia fame) added a “donate” button to her blog so she could buy lobster, maybe I should add a donate button so I can go visit this bookstore. Those are comparable expenses right?