NYC, You Infuriating, Beautiful, Magical Thing: A Love Letter (With an Asterisk)
"A lot of cool things and interesting people in a really shitty place." — A native New Yorker
This year marks my 10th anniversary in NYC. Apparently, that makes me an official New Yorker, but who's to say what the definitive criteria for that is.
According to Ted Mosby from How I Met Your Mother, you become a New Yorker once you’ve: spotted Woody Allen in a quintessential "only in New York" moment; cried on the subway without caring who sees; killed a cockroach with your bare hands, proving your ultimate urban toughness; and found the best burger in New York.
So, I came up with my own list. In my book, you’re not an official New Yorker until you’ve:
cried in public (this is actually a solid one)
been either crapped on by an arrogant New York pigeon or puked on by a stranger on the subway
fallen asleep on the train only to wake up at the last stop
lost your phone or wallet and miraculously gotten it back
found your go-to longtime hairdresser.
And let's not forget the ultimate New York achievement according to every iconic NYC show: finding your go-to bar, the one where you can show up without knowing anyone and still be guaranteed a good time and new friends by the end of the night.
Admittedly, I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter but sticking it out in NYC through the pandemic might have been the ultimate loyalty test—like staying by a sick family member’s side at their weakest and lowest.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not one of those people who thinks this is the best city in the world and no other place can compare. This quote from a native New Yorker captures it pretty well: "interesting people and things to do in a shitty place."
I'm not blind to New York's glaring flaws. The cost-of-living borders on absurd, with people crammed into tiny apartments at prices that would get you double or triple the space anywhere else. Housing is a constant battle between gentrification pushing out longtime residents and the eternal struggle for affordability. The over crowdedness can be overwhelming to the point where simple errands turn into tactical missions. As for the infrastructure, let’s just say any other major metropolis would be justified in looking down on NYC’s crumbling subway system and century-old pipes. (Even my home country, Morocco, does public transit better in some ways.) As someone put it romantically, “the infrastructure creaks and groans under the weight of 8 million dreams.” NYC indeed easy to romanticize.
And yet.
I've learned to find magic everywhere and built myself a pretty magical little corner of the world.
When people think New York, they picture:
Glittering skylines and towering buildings
Yellow cabs crawling through perpetually bustling traffic
Hip bars and fancy restaurants with impossible reservations and overpriced menus
Picturesque strolls through Central Park
But my version of NYC looks nothing like what you see on TV.
I've carved out a life in a house in suburban Brooklyn that might as well be in Philadelphia—a quiet corner that defies the Manhattan-centric NYC mythology. My New York experience is:
Hosting creative showcases and playful nights with my favorite weirdos
Dancing like nobody's watching with fellow hippy weirdos in repurposed churches
Riding my bike down to Coney Island for a solo beach day
Admiring the views at Silent Disco events by the Rockaways at sunset
Singing my heart out at intimate singing circles and my regular karaoke joint (shoutout 161)
Participating in personal development workshops, adult learning classes, and nerdy gatherings with fellow personal development nerds, uber talented multi-passionate creatives, and intellectual weirdos (more of this please).
Finding belonging in spiritual communities that provide grounding amidst the urban intensity
Discovering random and niche events like Queer wrestling & underground metal shows.
It’s the incredibly rich, diverse tapestry of people and their dreams that make this place special.
There are also the uniquely curated cultural third spaces and live music venues that open me up to the rest of the world, and the political gatherings, and activism that remind me why cities matter.
And yes, I do indulge in classic NYC experiences from time to time—the occasional rooftop bar or speakeasy (I love a good hidden spot), but I’m not interested in spending my money on trendy restaurants or $25 cocktails. What I do want to take better advantage of, though, are Broadway shows and live music venues, uniquely New York offerings.
Perhaps the greatest lesson New York has taught me is that you can create your own little bubble within even the most defined and iconic places. This city of 8 million people contains countless New Yorks—each person experiencing a completely different version of the same space.
While I may not stay forever (mindset is important but you can't deny reality forever), I've learned to be an architect of experience rather than a passive consumer. I've discovered that magic isn't in the location but in the people you surround yourself with and how you engage with your environment. The ability to find magic, joy, and community in a place with significant challenges is a skill I hope to carry wherever I go next. New York, you’ve taught me resilience, the art of reinvention, and how to find connection in the most unexpected places.
For now, I’ll continue soaking it in until I can find more sustainable and better matched environment (maybe somewhere warmer, more human-sized, and closer to the outdoors—with a better urban/nature balance); though I'm aware there are trade-offs with everywhere (and there's no escaping climate change wherever you go).
I'll continue building my weird little corner in this beautiful, terrible, magical, frustrating city—accepting both its gifts and limitations with clear eyes and an open heart. So here's to you, New York—you may not keep me forever, but you will always have a piece of my heart.