Home Sweet Home.

I never know where to begin blogging after a huge trip that involves 100s of activities, conversations, and meals, so I’ll just gloss over a few things since doing a whole week of NYC experiences any justice in a thousand words or less is nearly impossible.

The flight there was pretty uneventful. I watched 2 really bad movies and then immediately forgot them. I hopped off the plane, caught a taxi to Kasia and Kelly’s place, changed clothes and then jumped on the subway at 11PM to meet my friend Buddy in the village for dinner. Oddly enough we ended up eating at a French fusion diner called Florent….which recently lost its lease and is now going out of business. Alot of that going on in NYC lately. Just another indicator that my New York City is slowly but surely fading away. But that’s just how life is I suppose.

The next day I had a great American Breakfast with Kasia before heading out for some hardcore shopping. I seriously abused the exchange rate. It was lovely. Tuesday,Wednesday, and Thursday were filled with even more shopping, meeting up with friends that I literally hadn’t seen in a year. I bought 4 pairs of crocs, got a manicure and spa pedicure, ate gluten free pizza and bread-steaks, and drank gluten-free beer, got called “hot tits” by an insane homeless guy at Astor place, and got hit on by a goofy Midwestern Frat boy in front of Barnes and Noble at Union Square.

I love New York.

But ya know---the thing about New York is-- When I did live there, I didn’t really LIVE there. I was so busy with either school, or relationships, or work, or just trying to pay my rent that I never really enjoyed the experience of living in the one of the most amazing places on the planet. Now, every time I visit, I end up someplace and think: “How and why did I never come here before?”

There is also the realization that each time I visit NYC I love it a little bit more precisely because I don’t live there. No sky-high rent to pay ($1700 a month for a one bedroom anyone?), no shitty job with bad medical benefits to slave away at, and no mandatory subway suffocation in the thick of August. Yeah---it’s easy to love New York under these holiday conditions.

And Brooklyn. What can I say about Brooklyn? I swoon if I think about it for more than 30 seconds at a time. Don’t tell anybody, but I secretly dream of buying a brownstone in Park Slope one day as soon as I win the Euro Million lotto jackpot.

I don’t know how to explain it. While I’m there I feel like my heart is breaking every minute. So many memories that I think I will burst with joy to be “home” again.

But as soon as I’m back on the plane, I’m ready to be going ‘home”. See that’s the strange thing about “home”. And this last trip to New York made it more clear than ever that for me, France is home now.