if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere

A couple weeks ago, I felt the familiar disposition to get out of New York City for a while. I stashed my passport and a hundred bucks into an envelope, loaded my backpack with a book and a change of clothes, and hopped a northbound Amtrak for Montreal.

We crossed the Canadian border just before nightfall and I bid adieu to the hectic existence I had come to know while a serene Quebec sunset quietly silhouetted fleeting silos in a barren landscape.

When I checked in at the hostel, the clerk couldn't believe I had come to Montreal to "get away." I suppose most of the people he encounters come to the city to party or sight see. But when you live in a place like Manhattan, Montreal is a perfectly acceptable destination for a quiet weekend escape.

He pointed me to the nearest coffee shop where I enjoyed a steaming cup of joe and breathed in the relative peace that Canada so graciously offered. But despite my best efforts to spend a three-day weekend completely removed from even the thought of New York City, I often found my mind drifting that way.

It first began when I wandered down into a Montreal subway station to ask the attendant how to get to the Quartier Latin. He handed me a colorful, pocket-sized subway map that clearly marked the city's three subway lines. After mastering the Big Apple's sprawling, interconnected nebulous of underground tunnels, I wasn't too worried about finding my way around Montreal (even if I couldn't interpret most of its foreign signs).

After lunch the next day I had plans to meet my friend Alexandre for coffee, so I asked the waitress for walking directions to Mount Royal Avenue. "You want to walk?" she clarified doubtingly. "It's a really long walk," she warned, "Probably thirty minutes."

"Thirty minutes!?" I sarcastically thought to myself as I pulled my cap on tight over my ears and bounded toward Mount Royal Avenue. "I'm a New Yorker; I walk everywhere."

Later that afternoon, after coffee and a stroll in the park, I was chatting with a friendly park ranger named Andre. Andre asked me where I was staying while in Montreal and I told him the Latin Quarter. "Oh that's a nice place," he said as his smile relaxed and he leaned closer, "Just be careful after dark--there are lots of homeless."

"I'll do that," I assured my new Canadian ami, though I really felt like saying, "Please...I live in Harlem...this place feels like Midtown to me."

Lately I've found a lot of resonance in the classic Sinatra lyric, "If I can make it there (New York), I'll make it anywhere."

There's no doubt that New York can be a tough place to live. But an uncomfortable setting can forge an enduring character and I know that I'm stronger because of my experiences here. How is your environment challenging you to be a better character?