I’m grateful for the energy of cities.
I loved the vibrations of New York best, until I spent a week in London with good friends. London makes New York look tame, its international pulse throbbing at all hours, in all directions. It booms with the voice of hundreds of nations, swelling as one, sometimes splintering into many.
I love Mumbai. I’m grateful for its burgeoning hope amid great poverty and great wealth. I love its brashness and contagious spirit.
I’m in awe of the great architecture and old beauty of Europe’s capitals. I am especially fond of the gentleness of Amsterdam, after boastful Paris. I’m grateful for the elegance of Prague, a city of kindness, more open than most about its secrets.
I have long been in love with Mexico City, despite its troubles, because it was the first megalopolis I visited outside my home of Canada, a country of modest cities boldly calling themselves “world class.” Mexico’s colors are unforgettable.
Here, in Washington, D.C., a capital of power and might, I am moved by wonder — the wonder of spring blossoms next to a perpetual-motion sculpture that captures all the energy of urban life as it’s released from winter’s grip.