I want to live in a BIG city. I want my sole means of transportation to be my feet because walking in the world makes me feel alive. I want to hear the honking of horns, the hum of motors, the murmur of conversations occurring all around me. I want to see the buildings scraping the skies and the fashion of people on the streets, the store fronts aglow, and the ornate architecture of buildings constructed to contain masses while simultaneously pleasing the eye. I want to stride into the pit of the subway, ride the train and arrive in moments. I want the world at my fingertips: markets, retailers, and restaurants. Choice, choice, and more choice.I feel alive walking in a city. I will never forget my very first experience in a bustling megalopolis. Paris, 2007. We rode around the city in a shuttle bus, and my eyes absorbed Haussmann’s embellished building facades, adorned with twirly wrought iron balconies and aged green eaves. Timidly, I held fast to Phil’s grip as we crossed the cobbled walks from one avenue to the next, and though at first I felt my displacement obviously informed the stylish, haute parisians around me, I embraced the orchestrated movements of the masses, as that light blinked green, and we all moved forward as one. I rested in the cafes on the sidewalk, people watching and world watching, beholding the whir of traffic and the leisurely glide of passerby, while hearing the clink of glasses, the swish of wine, and gazing upon the pleasant smile of my one true love, shining even as brightly as the City of Love.
As far as cities are concerned, Paris will always hold the highest rank in my heart, and I dream to one day live in an apartment overlooking a boulevard where I can lean into my window and view the sentience of the populous pulsing throughout.
Nevertheless, recently, I had the opportunity to spend a few days in New York City, and it was there that I realized my desire to live in a bustling metropolis. It isn’t specifically the avenues of Paris or the Underground of London that I long for. Rather, it is avenues and undergrounds and people, and ornate buildings and cathedrals and proximity, and yes, even nature, offered by any large city, that I long for. Central Park, serene, yet peopled, is a grand exemplar of the accessibility of nature within a city; however, a soothing reserve is not the only natural option available to urban citizens. I find that I spend more time in nature when I am in a city than I do living in my suburban, nearly country abode. This is because when I am in a city, I spend all of my time outside, walking, with the ceiling above the blue, sometimes gray, skies and the cumulous, sometimes cumulonimbus clouds. Sure, I am exposed to the elements, but rain boots, an umbrella, wool scarves and leather gloves are stylish accessories I would not mind adding to my present wardrobe. I breathe in the natural air. Sure, it may be a little polluted, but it is better than breathing in artificially manufactured air inside buildings or cars all day long. As it is, I spend 2 lonely hours a day in my car commuting to and from my Charlotte job, but I would so much rather a brisk stroll on city sidewalks and a quick jaunt on a train.
I know it isn’t perfect, and my idealism is evidence of my lack of experience, but I am old enough, yet maybe still young enough, to try new things and create a world of my choosing, rather than complacently accepting what I know simply because I know it.
