I went to New York totally unsure of how I would feel – and on my last day, despite Sandy’s mighty efforts, I knew that I was about to miss a new city. After getting to see the beautiful and the brutal that New York has to offer, I, at first found myself at a loss to pinpoint its appeal. It’s not classically beautiful or charming like Paris and despite what others have told me, beyond their large populations and lively personalities, New York and Paris feel several worlds apart.

To me, Paris is the kind of beautiful where its streets and homes could be emptied of every heartbeat, leaving me completely alone and I would be wholly satisfied. (Okay, maybe as long as everyone left their bakery doors unlocked as well…) While I love and am routinely fascinated by the spirit and actions of Parisians, it’s their city – the bricks, stones, parks, streets and passage ways – that I adore. New York, I’ve discovered, is the complete opposite. Its streets are piled with trash, and instead of certain parts of town being known for heavy foot traffic, every corner of the city seems to be continually and astonishingly covered with hoards of people. It baffles me how so many people can belong to a single city.

Even as the evening brings the dark and the city begins its dazzling light show, even that is not a match for the physical beauty of Paris. No, instead, in New York it’s the people that draw you in. Along with the alluring mystery and romance in the fact that you never know who you might meet, the city is covered by a patchwork quilt of languages, cultures and backgrounds. From plane-fulls of tourists to a hodge podge of sea-to-shining sea Americans to trans-Atlantic transplants, the city is filled in a unique way. And all together, you’re dealing with a movable beast of a city who can be cruel or kind with the flip of a dime which seems to pull everyone a wee bit closer, ultimately revealing witty spirits, astute and determined minds, and often, unfiltered humanity.

I feel drawn to the city as George Mallory famously proclaimed about Mount Everest, “because it’s there.” Because it demands strength, resilience and tenacity. Because like a bully, it forces you to dig deep and take chances. Because like a great teacher, it pushes you to the limit in order to pull something more out of you, something you didn’t know you had. I’m drawn to New York because the tales that have been told about it grow the city into a mountain the very size of Everest and because the thrill of a million strangers is too much to stand. Because cities are where I feel pushed into my best – where I seem to learn about myself, my fellow man and my God.

As long as New York is there, I’ll feel it looming above my head, beckoning me to come on and try. Is it my next chapter or just a place to visit and find inspiration? I hold my breath in anticipation of an answer.