Why I Keep Falling in Love with New York City

I’m sitting in Moshava café in Greenwich Village, sipping an iced coffee that somehow tastes like magic, and once again I find myself grinning like a fool. I love this city. There, I said it.

New York City has me—hook, line, and soul.

You see, I’m a city guy through and through. I’ve travelled the world, seen stunning landscapes, climbed high places and dipped toes in distant oceans—but there’s something about the energy of a great city that grabs me. And no city does it quite like New York.

Every time I come, I try to explain it. The people. The architecture. The rhythm. The sheer, unapologetic bigness of it all. And yet, words always fall short. NYC is less a place you describe and more a place you feel. You inhale it.

It starts with the people. New Yorkers are a breed all their own—gritty, warm, direct, and full of character. One moment you’re being told to move along with a classic New York glare, and the next, a stranger’s helping you haul a suitcase up the stairs like you’re lifelong friends. It’s paradoxical and perfect. There’s a unique humanity here, raw and honest. Just like I like it.

Then there’s the architecture. Good grief. You can’t walk ten feet without bumping into something historic, iconic, or simply beautiful. From the brownstones in Harlem to the iron façades in SoHo, from the spires of Midtown to the quiet, cobbled lanes of the Village, it’s like the city is singing—its song built in brick and steel. I never stop looking up. Ever.

The culture? It’s as if the whole world has pulled up a chair to this table. Theatre, music, design, street art, cuisine—it’s all here, all the time. One day you’re sitting in a restaurant that feels like a Massachusetts fish place time forgot. At the corner is Ben’s Pizza where he proudly displays “best in the world” on the rather dirty green awning. Next, you’re at a wine bar with the most expensive sushi you have ever had. Of course the Broadway shows beckon and Times Square is truly electric with people and signage And let’s not even get started on the bagels. You haven’t had a bagel until you’ve had a New York bagel.

I don’t come here to escape life. I come here to feel it pulsing in full force. There’s a sacredness to the chaos. A kind of order in the mess. It reminds me of ministry, to be honest—loud, alive, unpredictable, but beautiful in ways you only notice when you stop long enough to really look.

And here’s what I’m learning, or maybe re-learning: every time I walk these streets, I walk them differently. A little older. Hopefully a little wiser. Still as curious as ever. But what stays the same is that sense that I’m part of something bigger here. New York stretches me. Invites me. Inspires me.

So yes, I’m a city guy. I love the noise, the pace, the stories etched into the sidewalks. But more than that—I love this city because, somehow, every time I’m here, it makes me feel more alive.

And that’s a gift I don’t take lightly.

If you’ve never been to New York—go. If you’ve been before—go again. And if you’re there now—look up. The city’s still singing.