I love the free concerts that happen every night in the summertime, the museums, all of the outdoor art. I adore walking down South Grand and hearing four different languages being spoken at once. I love the fancy shops and cluttered sidewalks of the Central West End, even as I bitch about the lack of parking. I love walking The Loop and and seeing the St. Louis Walk of Fame, as cheesy as it is. I'm charmed by the tiny shops and funky houses of Maplewood and will spend hours discussing different types of greens at the Tower Grove farmers market. I could spend days sitting on Cherokee, just watching the art and the anarchists and eating at restaurants where nobody speaks English but me. I've been to every coffee shop in town and have strong opinions about the merits and drawbacks of each one. I enjoy the friendliness of the people here, and how we will jump into conversations(and arguments) with perfect strangers about the weather, the politics, the racial issues, which neighborhood is the best (Shaw!) and the city-county divide.
But I'm not a native. I just moved here nine years ago. I moved here for a job; I planned to just stay a few years and move on.
The first year was awful. I lived in the suburbs and didn't talk to my neighbors. I spent my weekends planning how I was going to get out, the ways I could get away from this place. I decided to give it three years, then look for jobs in Chicago.
But then I moved into the city and everything changed. Everything.
For the first time, I understood why people felt so passionately about living in the city. Because I'm one of those people now.
I'm home. And I don't ever plan to leave.
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