New York, New York, you stole my heart. At least once a month I get dangerously close to buying a plane ticket back there (curse you sky scanner!) and every weekend since I last went in September, someone on my Facebook feed has posted about how they’re over their right now. (Followed by me messaging Becky “UGH, so and so is in New York this week. Why is it everyone but us??”)
I went to New York. If anyone follows me on instagram, they’ll probably know this, thanks to the insane amount of pictures posted with Taylor Swift lyrics underneath them. However, I felt a bit weird about the whole ordeal. My first few days were fucking awesome, and whilst we were walking around underneath the huge buildings in midtown and getting lost looking for the Rockerfeller Centre, I really understood the meaning of concrete jungle. And don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to come across as really spoilt/ungrateful or something, but I think I may have suffered from my first instance of the dreaded culture shock.