Center of the Universe

I lived in New York City for two years—throughout 2018 and 2019.

I left, thanks to a series of seemingly random events that, in hindsight, made me realize they weren’t random at all, just before Covid and all the chaos that followed.

What could be said about New York City that hasn’t already been said thousands of times?

Very little.

Those were interesting years, filled with equally interesting reflections that I want to share here.

I don’t know if my NYC experience can be considered atypical, or perhaps, precisely because it is atypical, it can certainly be defined as quintessentially New York.

The fact is that about a week after my arrival—via a coach that departed from Maine and dropped me off on a sidewalk next to Grand Central Station—and a brief stay on the couch of someone who soon no longer wanted me on that couch and kicked me out, I found myself homeless and came very close to ending up like Jon Voight in Midnight Cowboy.

Funny how, about a year later, I found myself in that same area—the Financial District—but this time in the Penthouse on the 50th floor of the Four Seasons Residences, which were selling for around ten million dollars, doing a photoshoot.

Quite a paradox, isn’t it?

In the end, the point isn’t necessarily New York.

But I do want to use NYC as a springboard for the example I want to make.

Perhaps more than other cities, this one has the power to polarize opinions. As the saying goes, You hate it or love it. And recently, I found myself in a conversation with someone who, like me, had lived in NYC. She claimed that no other city in the world compares to NY—that NY could be considered the center of the world, a city where everything is there, and nothing is missing.

“What does everything mean to you?” I ask her.
“Fashion, events, theater, performances, art, the heart of the financial world, the best of the best in dining, nightlife. If you want to make a career, NY is the place to do it. What NY gives you, no other city does, in terms of work ethic, adaptability, and dreaming big,” she responds.

And honestly, I agree. In that sense, NY is unique.

But then I think: If we truly look at every city, every major city, aren’t they also unique in their own way?

I think of Rome, Rio de Janeiro, Sydney, Paris, London, Los Angeles.
Aren’t they just as special in their own way?
In their energy, architecture, climate, history, and the way life unfolds in their streets?

Yes, it’s true. If you adopt the New York standard—if you compare what NYC offers and the lifestyle it provides with any other city in the world—of course, there’s no comparison. NYC wins.

What other city gives you Broadway shows, concerts, Michelin-starred restaurants, nightlife, and microcosms integrated into macrocosms on almost every corner? The possibility of eating any type of cuisine at any time of day and hearing every language in the world spoken within a 20-mile radius? None.

But in the end, why should we use the New York standard as the measure?

I've had the chance to live (not just travel) in different places and interact with an infinite variety of people, cultures, and stories—from the lowest criminal circles to the highest and most sophisticated ones. And I’ve noticed something interesting: every individual has their own standards of judgment and comparison, often shaped by their culture of origin or personal needs.

That said, wherever I’ve lived, I’ve noticed that people generally operate in one of two ways:

1. People tend to see the place they live as perfect—the most beautiful place in the world—for a variety of reasons that, of course, differ from city to city (restaurants, events, nature, beaches, climate).
   After all, how else can one justify living in a particular place if they don’t like its characteristics? The same intensity and love in defending one’s city, I’ve noticed in Sydney, NY, Rome, Paris, Florence, and many other places. People tend to believe their city is the most beautiful in the world—that it is the center of the universe.
2. Seeing the grass as always greener on the other side. I might be the most classic and obvious example of this, for a whole set of reasons I won’t write about now. For instance, I was surprised to find out that in Brazil, people are obsessed with the United States—just as they are in Australia. Movies, music, and media have shaped entire generations, creating the so-called American Dream.

Whether it's the first or the second perspective, the question remains:

WHAT IS THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE?

Or, which city is the most beautiful in the world?

The one that has it all?

A city full of cultural and entertainment opportunities, where life is good, the quality of life is high, the climate is pleasant, there’s no smog, people are friendly, work-life balance is reasonable, taxes are low, the roads are well maintained, and society is healthy and safe.

If you find such a place, let me know!

Everything is incredibly relative, as Einstein would say.

Following my friend’s reasoning when she said, "Once you’ve lived in NY, you can live anywhere," I can’t help but smile when I think about the many New Yorkers I’ve met in Italy or in rural parts of the U.S., like Vermont or New Hampshire, who continued living at their frantic, workaholic pace—unable to slow down. Slowing down is essential if you truly want to enjoy life in places like, well, Italy.

Or the Africans I’ve known and worked with in Italy, who continued to live at an extremely slow and peaceful rhythm, never quite adapting to the pace of their new home.

So, where is the dividing line? Who decides what the right rhythm of life is? What lifestyle is the most suitable for self-fulfillment? And in which society should that happen? Which city or country can truly give us the opportunity to achieve our dreams?

And those dreams—who put them in our heads? Are they truly ours, or were they passed down from our parents? Or did we absorb them from watching movies, listening to music, and consuming media?

Whatever it may be for you, dear reader, I wish you a good journey on your path, as I continue on mine. And I hope that one day, our paths cross—whether in a big city, in a crowded café, or in the middle of a tropical forest, surrounded by wild animals.

A hug.

M