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The Art of Coping During a Staycation

As a kid, my father used to love to joke about wandering over to Disneyland and pretending we were from Illinois. Well, we must have lived less than five minutes away from the park.

At this point, I’ve been in New York for almost a consecutive ten weeks—and though I’ve got two minor trips lined up for this summer—I’m slowly reaching my breaking point: twelve weeks.

Cabin fever doesn’t become me. That’s the three-month marker, and before we get into any discussion of how such a first-world problem this is, let’s talk about what this means for me. By the time I’ve hit the threshold, it’s time for a border crossing of some kind. It’s the threshold of my sanity.

Fall, not summer, is typically the busiest travel season of the year for yours truly. I travel during fall for several reasons: first, airfare is often a lot cheaper and two, there are less tourists around. Not to mention, there’s nothing like taking in a city during a glorious fall or spring. Or watching the leaves change for half the price.

So instead of getting your typical traveling tip, this is my own futile attempt to rectify the cabin fever affecting penny pinchers worldwide. It’s my attempt to get my ass out of the coffee shop or in front of the air conditioner to see the great beyond of my neighborhood.

I’m a bit luckier than most. I just moved to New York, so everything is still fresh. I’m even using Wikivoyage to learn more about the neighborhoods around me, tools that I only typically use when I’m in a strange and new city. (Though, I have to admit, half of my misadventures are powered through the wisdom of Yelp.)

(Heck, I just moved back after living four years abroad. I have to learn how to tip properly again and, shock, learn to stop speaking in kilometres, never mind new city.)

There are touristy things like the Statue of Liberty I still haven’t seen. Delving into the heart of Queens, there’s the Flushing foodsplosion, roti in Jackson Heights and the totally vibrant Astoria. Not to say I haven’t explored Brooklyn or the other boroughs of New York: a city is only the sum of all its parts.

And, hey, if all else fails, I’ve actually got a flight out to Los Angeles for an engagement party in less than two weeks! All’s fair in love and vacationing.

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