Solo in the city

This summer I left the Princeton bubble for a relative adventure in the concrete jungle: New York City. "Relative" because I was living with three fellow Princetonians. "Adventure" because the closest I've ever come to a big city is the bright lights of Nashville's Wild Horse Saloon. My cab pulled up after midnight and I checked into my summer housing, armed with two suitcases, a credit card, and a box of my mom's homemade cookies. I expected to be overexerted, overwhelmed, and Carrie Bradshaw all within a week.

I was almost right.

Before this summer, my New York experience had been confined to Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, weekend trips to Times Square, and a healthy fear of Central Park. This summer, I realized that the true "New York Experience" stretches far beyond where Central Park and the numbered streets end. Since my roommates are all would-be i-bankers, I ended up exploring the sketchier of the nooks and nicer of the crannies alone.

In SoHo, I discovered a world of shopping, and wandered from store to store, finding boutiques that sell the jeans Cottage girls pass off as semi-formal.

In Chinatown, a world of stocking-stuffers poured out from bright red storefronts. Cashmere scarves were two for $10. Street vendors rushed to sell their own goods, while pointing out the flaws in their neighbors'. From what I gather, fuzzy hems don't bode well for cashmere. In the twists and turns of the mobbed, narrow streets, you could feel something behind you, then look up the street to see your wallet, complete with ID, on sale for one day only.

The Meat Packing District was hailed as the next up-and-coming hot spot for twenty-something singles desperately seeking housing — and one another. After a quick visit, I'm pretty certain that it's only "up-and-coming" because it's one of the few places left on the island fit for habitation, and with any room at all to accommodate it. Essentially, it's the equivalent of the junior slums to a third day draw time.

My dorm was in midtown, mere blocks from Central Park and eventually, my walks led me nearer and nearer to the grassy open spaces so uncommon in the city — especially after I saw a stick on the street and was actually baffled as to where it might have come from. Against the advice of my mother, I headed into the park for the day. Strangely, it felt more familiar than any other place in the city. I called my mother back, "Don't worry, Mom. I can't get lost in here. I recognize almost everything from 'Law & Order.' "

Before this summer, I saw the city as a maze of glitz and glamour only worth navigating for Broadway plays and occasional big-city lights. Now, I pride myself on being able to recognize the tourists wary of leaving the more-populated areas of Times Square after nightfall.

Now, I understand that the neighborhoods hold the real flavor. Only there can you really learn the basics of the city, like wearing stilettos limits your sidewalk allocation to a mere 10 percent — and pulling your heels out of subway grates is rarely sexy, regardless of the style of the shoe. In Central Park, there's a man who's been running there for nearly fifty years. Now, he mostly walks and gives advice to runners and businessmen alike. Prada always seems better off the street, and sometimes the best restaurants are the tiniest ones run by a father and his two sons.

I never did see a Broadway play. The closest I came was seeing "Much Ado About Nothing" on the Central Park open stage and listening to the sounds of the Metropolitan Opera in the Park while having wine and cheese with coworkers.

I did, however, catch a Mets game, lay out in Central Park, and shop in a used bookstore that boasts eight miles of books. Next time I go into the city, it won't be to the Olive Garden in Times Square, or even to see "Phantom of the Opera" one more time. Instead, I'd grab dinner in Little Italy and conversations in Union Square.

Even though I never quite measured up to Carrie Bradshaw and her adventures, I'd say I at least understand her love-hate relationship with the maze and mess of the Upper East Side, Harlem, and the Garment District. While I'm not sure if I'm ready to do it on my own for good, being Solo in the City for a summer was definitely the way to be.