there was this great bit from a new yorker piece by nora ephron last month, and i loved it so much that i'm willing to type it here:

When you give up your apartment in New York and move to another city, New York becomes the worst version of itself. Someone I know once wisely said that the expression "It's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there" is completely wrong where New York is concerned; the opposite is true. New York is a very livable city. But when you move way and become a visitor the city seems to turn against you. It's much more expensive (because you have to eat all your meals out and pay for a place to sleep) and much more unfriendly. Things change in New York; things change all the time. You don't mind this when you live here; it's part of the caffeinated romance of the city that never sleeps. But when you leave you experience change as a betrayal. You walk up Third Avenue planning to buy a brownie at a bakery you've always been loyal to, and the bakery's gone. Your dry cleaner moves to Florida; your dentist retires; the lady who made the pies on West Fourth Street vanishes; the maitre d' at P.J. Clarke's quits, and you realize you're going to have to start from scratch tipping your way into the hear of the cold, chic young woman now at the door. You've turned your back for a moment, and suddenly everything's different. You were an insider, a native, a subway traveller, a purveyor of tips into the good stuff, and now you're just another frequent flyer, stuck in a taxi on the Grand Central Parkway as you wing in and out of LaGuardia. Meanwhile, you read that Manhattan rents are going up, they're climbing higher, they've reached the stratosphere. It seems that the moment you left town they put up a wall around the place, and you were never manage to vault over it and get back into the city again.