I’d forgotten how loud the subways are. The way they clatter and shudder and screech and smash as they pull into a big station. There are no niceties with the subway. No comforts. No safety barriers on the platforms. No fabric or armrests or cushions on the seats. It’s all utility. Grime and rats. Every car, designed to be hosed out with a water blaster at the end of a very long night.

I love the way the delivery guys on their electric bikes ride wtih plastic bags on their hands to protect them from the cold. I love the way strangers will compliment strangers’ outfits.
‘I love your coat!’
‘Thank you!’
I love the yelling, the hustling, the what-the-f**k-is-that-smell? The way you have to pull off to the side on the footpath. I love that everyone constantly jay-walks.

I love the grandeur. The stone, the steel, the glass. The way you can be lost in Midtown in the shadows of all the skyscrapers then suddenly reach a little gap of streaming sunshine. Hallelujah! The pianist playing a baby grand in the park as auburn leaves swish all around him. Those little pockets of peace amidst the go-go-go.

I love the old tenements. The way people are prepared to pay thousands of dollars a month for a scummy apartment up six flights of stairs with a bathroom in which you can only close the door if you sit on the toilet at an angle.

I love the food.

I. Love. The. Food.

I don’t love the way that when you walk in the city, mysterious droplets of air conditioner fluid sometimes drop onto your face from high above. But I love that people don’t seem to care. And more than anything, I love that they’re from everywhere. Every colour. Every age. Every style. Every accent. Every language. Every job. Every dream. Humanity’s great smorgasbord. There cannot be a more intensely diverse place on this Earth.

I love cities. You don’t hear that enough. Any schmuck can appreciate a mountain range and a waterfall but there is also real beauty in a good city. Sure it’s easy to be distracted by the filth and the clatter. But beyond that, there is elegance in communal living. The way people always use good public space.

Usually when I explore a place for the first time, I don’t expect to return. Unless I have friends or family or a specific reason to visit in the future, I just figure I probably won’t be back. There are too many places to explore in this World. Why waste an opportunity by revisiting a place you already know?

But there are a handful of exceptions to the rule, a handful of cities, that are just different.

They are just so very alive, oscillating and changing in a way that makes it refreshing to return time and again.

And for me at least, there’s one city at the top of the heap.

New York. It’s not a great city. It’s the great city.

I’d forgotten how loud the subways are. The way they clatter and shudder and screech and smash as they pull into a big station. There are no niceties with the subway. No comforts. No safety barriers on the platforms. No fabric or armrests or cushions on the seats. It’s all utility. Grime and rats. Every car, designed to be hosed out with a water blaster at the end of a very long night.
I love the way the delivery guys on their electric bikes ride wtih plastic bags on their hands to protect them from the cold. I love the way strangers will compliment strangers’ outfits. ‘I love your coat!’ ‘Thank you!’ I love the yelling, the hustling, the what-the-f**k-is-that-smell? The way you have to pull off to the side on the footpath. I love that everyone constantly jay-walks.
I love the grandeur. The stone, the steel, the glass. The way you can be lost in Midtown in the shadows of all the skyscrapers then suddenly reach a little gap of streaming sunshine. Hallelujah! The pianist playing a baby grand in the park as auburn leaves swish all around him. Those little pockets of peace amidst the go-go-go.
I love the old tenements. The way people are prepared to pay thousands of dollars a month for a scummy apartment up six flights of stairs with a bathroom in which you can only close the door if you sit on the toilet at an angle.
I love the food.
I. Love. The. Food.
I don’t love the way that when you walk in the city, mysterious droplets of air conditioner fluid sometimes drop onto your face from high above. But I love that people don’t seem to care. And more than anything, I love that they’re from everywhere. Every colour. Every age. Every style. Every accent. Every language. Every job. Every dream. Humanity’s great smorgasbord. There cannot be a more intensely diverse place on this Earth.
I love cities. You don’t hear that enough. Any schmuck can appreciate a mountain range and a waterfall but there is also real beauty in a good city. Sure it’s easy to be distracted by the filth and the clatter. But beyond that, there is elegance in communal living. The way people always use good public space.
Usually when I explore a place for the first time, I don’t expect to return. Unless I have friends or family or a specific reason to visit in the future, I just figure I probably won’t be back. There are too many places to explore in this World. Why waste an opportunity by revisiting a place you already know?
But there are a handful of exceptions to the rule, a handful of cities, that are just different.
They are just so very alive, oscillating and changing in a way that makes it refreshing to return time and again.
And for me at least, there’s one city at the top of the heap.
New York. It’s not a great city. It’s the great city.

Jack Tame’s crisp perspective, style and enthusiasm makes for refreshing and entertaining Saturday morning radio on Newstalk ZB.

News, sport, books, music, gardens and celebrities – what better way to spend your Saturdays?

Jack Tame’s crisp perspective, style and enthusiasm makes for refreshing and entertaining Saturday morning radio on Newstalk ZB. News, sport, books, music, gardens and celebrities – what better way to spend your Saturdays?

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