New York City v. Paris, It’s All About Orange Juice

Speed. Light. New World. Old World. 120 BPM. 65 BPM.

Oversimplification incoming…

Paris allows you to slow down. NYC keeps you in the know. Paris works. NYC thrives.

In NYC it’s, “What are you working on, who are you, who do you know, how can I help?”

In Paris it’s, “Have a great day.”

NYC is the individual shooting their shot on a visible stage.

Paris is fresh-squeezed orange juice every day.

In NYC, orange juice mostly comes from a carton or jug.

Speed over precision.

As a tourist in hot June, I’d pick Paris, even though the AC is blasting in NYC. Never mind. I pick NYC.

They say the French are rude. Whoever “they” are.

We happened to be in Paris during Fête de la Musique, essentially the San Francisco Love Fest of yesteryear. Every, only slightly embellishing - boulangerie, coffee shop, restaurant, and storefront seemed to be blasting music from a live DJ, band, or soloist.

The streets were hot and the bass was pumping from the Louvre to Pont Neuf, from Le Marais to Montmartre.

The point?

The feeling of safety in people’s eyes. The ease of interactions in close quarters. People simply showing up to listen to music or dance the night away.

That same event in NYC? The energy feels different. More edge. More awareness of who’s around you.

There is an everything-will-be-okay attitude in Paris.

In NYC, it often feels like it’s always your fault if you’re not in good spirits.

In one city you can walk and get a croissant, airy and buttery. In the other, a bagel with schmear or a slice of pizza.

One costs $1.50. The other $4-plus. Yes, price adjusted for euros.

Overall, which do I pick?

NYC.

When people ask where you’re from, there may be no better answer in the world than:

“New York City.”

P.S. Paris is the City of Light and the City of Love. Use often.