The Honeymoon is Over.

I knew when we moved to New York that there would come a time when I was homesick. I figured it would happen early on when we had no friends and were in unfamiliar territory. I waited for the loneliness to set in but we were so busy exploring the city that it never came. I expected bouts of frustration at not knowing my way around and irritation with navigating foreign grocery aisles, but I was so busy marveling at the volume and variety of exotic and interesting food that it never came either. I figured our honeymoon period would come to a screeching halt when the bad weather set in and leave me longing for 75 degree November days in San Diego. That too has not happened because the fall here has been absolutely gorgeous. And yet, slowly but surely, the Big Apple is losing its shine. For the first time since we've lived here, aside from the occasional fleeting thought, I find my mind wandering back to California and wondering what our friends are doing at that exact moment. When I realized that I was having recurring thoughts of life back in the Golden State, I had to ask myself "Why?!". I am still loving school. I've met some really fabulous people and made some wonderful friends. New York is an amazing city and there are endless opportunities to sate my inner gourmand. So why are visions of palm trees and gridlocked freeways dancing in my head?

It took some self analysis and reflection, but I think I've figured it out. It's true that this city offers more food, art, culture, diversity and nightlife than any other city in the country, but when you walk into a market and begrudgingly hand over $50 to pay for the makings of one meal, you feel a little beaten down. When you spend more in quarters on laundry each month than you did on your entire gas & electric bill in San Diego (which included the washer and dryer that was conveniently located in your apartment and not down three flights of stairs and around the corner), you start to think about what you would do if that money was still in your pocket. The bottom line is well...the bottom line of my bank account. The Big Apple is the most expensive damn apple I've ever eaten.

When you eat an expensive apple, the natural progression of thought is to ask yourself how good that apple really is and if it justifies the cost. Let's say that the apple is one of the best that you've ever tasted. I'll go with Honey Crisp because they are my favorite. The rosy pink and lemon yellow skin is gleaming. When your teeth break through to the fruit, sweet and tart juiciness hits your tongue and zings the back of your cheeks. The texture and flavor is a revelation of the origin of its name. When you eat this apple, you understand what tempted Eve and you know you will come back again and again. Oh, there's one more thing, you now have to pay for your apple and it costs $100. So I could beat this analogy to death a little more, but I think you understand where I'm at. I want the apple but I have buyers remorse after eating it.

This doesn't mean I intend to pack up and head back to California as soon as I graduate. (I need to interrupt myself for a second and say that if a few years back someone had told me that I would want to move back to San Diego or the Bay Area in order to save money I would have rolled my eyes and rattled off all the reasons why California living doesn't come cheap. And it doesn't. It just happens to feel that way when you are afraid to walk into a swanky bar for fear of paying $20 for a martini.) I digress, we have no plans to leave Manhattan any time soon. We plan to squeeze as much out of this city as we can...and then we will turn tail and run back to sanctuary of the sunshine and the slightly less horrifying cost of living. So now that the novelty of New York has worn off and the cold reality of being a Manhattanite has set in, Sinatra's words mean a lot more. If I can make it here, I'll make it anywhere...I'll just have a much happier bank account. Now, excuse me while I go blow an entire paycheck on a carton of eggs and my dry cleaning.