Postcard from New York
- Marie Boyé
- May 12
- 2 min read
It feels good to be back in New York.
First thing I noticed was the Dunkin' Donuts at the airport—and then, the familiar smell of weed in the streets of Brooklyn. In a way, the city welcomed me exactly as I left it. But this trip felt different.
Last year, I was disappointed. No Wall Street bankers walking down the streets. No fashionistas in heels catching cabs. It didn’t match the picture I had in mind. This time, though, I arrived during New York’s prime time: best spring weather in years, the week after a stretch of rain. Maybe that’s why the city looked alive again. Or maybe my lucky cricket was with me—once more.
The energy was contagious. I met more people in five days than I had in the previous five months. It was vibrant—almost like in Asia, very objectively. Everyone was out. Central Park was more alive than ever, and the 5th Avenue overflowing with tourists from every continent.
And yet, despite the noise and the crowds, New York remains raw. Dirty. Beautiful. Everything I like.
It’s easy to forget how expensive the city is. A meal out rarely costs less than $40 once you add tips and fees. But it doesn’t seem to stop anyone. People vape in the subway, buy overpriced bubble tea on every other corner, and walk with strollers like it’s Sunday in a village. Because that’s what New York is—a village wearing skyscrapers. Bike lanes everywhere, yet it still takes hours by foot to go anywhere. I walked 20 kilometers every day, without even noticing.
It had been five months since I last left Europe. Five months is a long time for me. I missed this scale, this chaos, this freedom. You can tap to pay on any train, any bus, and still end up lost in Queens if you're not careful.
New York is not what it promises. But once you stop looking for the postcard version, you start to see the real face of the City.
That’s when you fall for it.
Faithfully yours,
Marie

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