If you are someone who loves to travel, I think there is no greater place to live than New York City. When I attempt to walk through the throngs that amass Chinatown, I have a funny feeling I am experiencing a smidgen of a sensation that would descend upon me in Beijing. I am visiting someplace unfamiliar; a little exotic. There are no spaces between bodies, there are markets where all of the food is advertised in Chinese, and I can’t ask what kind of fish is being displayed because I don’t speak the language.
Sometimes I get a hankering for a Greek taverna like what you might find on the Plaka in Athens. I can take the subway a couple of stops to Astoria, and order a salad studded with red-ripe tomatoes and fragrant feta cheese, and an entree of grilled branzino. If I want to pretend I am shopping on the Champs-Elysées, I might stroll along Madison Avenue. And if I pop into any one of the great historical churches built hundreds of years ago with their vaulted ceilings and rose windows, I feel as if I made a pit stop to Europe.
There are the thousands of galleries and museums with works of art that range from 15th century B.C. Egypt to 19th century Papua, New Guinea to 21st century photography.Whether I need an emergency fix of turmeric, have an urge to see live theatre, or sense that it’s time to hear a little Beethoven, it really does all happen here. All the time. I love New York.