There are cat people and dog people. There are taylor ham people and pork roll people. There are city people and country people. Well, I’m definitely a dog person, and I’m definitely a taylor ham person – but I’m not so sure I know where I fit on the city-to-country spectrum. At 24-years-old, I have lived almost exactly half of my life in an urban setting, and half of my life in a more rural setting...and comparing the two is getting harder as I get older. And like everyone else in their mid-twenties, knowing what setting you belong in is pretty key to figuring out your life and where you’re going to end up.

For the first twelve years of my life, I lived in West Orange, NJ, a pretty urban suburb only 20 minutes outside of New York City. I didn’t see many stars at night, but I saw the city skyline everyday, and that’s pretty awesome. There was certainly a lot to do. We had a town pool, a zoo and a downtown that always had stuff going on. In our town, we even had a really large woods reservation – so it’s not like there was no nature to be found, and we went hiking there often. Not to mention, if you just “felt” like going to the city for dinner, I repeat, it was only 20 minutes away.

I actually felt like a part of me grew up in New York City, even though I never resided there. I even climbed my first tree in Central Park. Not only did we simply see the city every day, but we visited it very often too.

When we moved, I was twelve, and I wasn’t one of those kids who needed to be dragged kicking and screaming from the old house on moving day. I was upset to be leaving my friends, but for myself, I was excited. I loved my town, don’t get me wrong. I was like queen of school and town spirit. But I was excited for a complete change.

And a complete change is what I got. We moved about an hour away to Mount Olive, NJ. If you’ve ever been to Mount Olive, you’ll probably say that it isn’t exactly “country.” But when you’re used to living in West Orange, moving to Mount Olive might as well have been moving to Montana. First of all, I had to start taking the bus to school. Most people in West Orange were driven or walked. And my ten-minute bus ride to school through the woods, alongside a river, with farms nearby, would be one of the first indicators to how “country” my new town actually could be.

There is quite a bit to love about Mount Olive that I simply didn’t have the luxury of in West Orange. I could see the stars every night – not just when I go camping! Who knew there were so many stars? I couldn’t hear the constant drone of Route 280 from my bedroom – it was so quiet here! And of course, who doesn’t love passing horse farms every single day?

But there was one blaringly obvious perk to West Orange. Boy, was there more to do in that town. After the initial “let’s go to farms and go hiking!” excitement wears off, my new town didn’t offer nearly as many activities. We don’t even have a downtown in Mount Olive. Restaurants didn’t even stay open after nine o’clock (except for Chili’s, which is where we ate really, really frequently back then). The most interesting attraction in my town was the fact that there are not one, but two, supermarkets across the street from each other.

However, the things I missed most are the things you wouldn’t even consider unless you yourself moved between such polarized areas. I missed the architecture of West Orange. Most of the houses predated the 1940’s, and therefore they were all different from each other. Up here in northwest New Jersey, all the houses are much newer, and they are all pretty cookie-cutter. I also missed sidewalks. Yeah, sidewalks. You can be so much more social as a kid and teenager (pre-driver’s license) when you have sidewalks, because you can actually walk to your friends’ houses. But when the main road that runs through your town is a state highway that’s 50 miles per hour, and there are no sidewalks, you’re not going anywhere.

Needless to say, as I got older I started taking on the attitude of “you can take the girl out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the girl.”

So when college came around, I jumped at the chance to live in a city. I went to Berklee College of Music in Boston, MA. (OK, OK...Boston is no New York City, but it’s still a city!) For the first time in my life, I was living in an actual city, and in the thick of it at that. I lived near so many of Boston’s popular attractions – Newbury Street, the Prudential Center, the reflecting pool, Fenway Park. I lived only a twenty minute walk from the Boston Commons, and a short subway ride from Boston Harbor and Faneuil Hall. Suddenly, there was so much to do again!

Oftentimes, I’d be walking down the steps of my dorm and see a blimp hovering a few blocks away over a Red Sox game. I passed so many interesting people on the streets. I saw the crazy partying of Santa Con. I saw the Occupy Boston protest unfold outside of my friend’s apartment. I walked through the mall, confused, as hundreds of people dressed like Sailor Moon were walking around the food court until I realized there was an anime convention going on.

The best parts of living in a city, again, are things you wouldn’t understand until you live there. For me, it was the convenience of everything. As so few people living in a city actually drive around it, everything has to be in walking distance. Want a soda? There’s a store open, two doors away. Want Thai food? There are like three restaurants within five minutes of walking. Need to go to the supermarket? Yeah, that’s in walking distance too, at the added convenience of being open all night long. And all that walking is really, really awesome for your health. You’ll feel fit in no time.

That’s to to say there wasn’t an initial adjustment. I had to start wearing earplugs to bed because it was just so loud all the time. For the first week or so, there was a huge adjustment to the air quality and my nose felt stuffed up all the time. And even though Berklee is located in an exceptionally safe area of the city, you do feel like you have to be on your guard all the time. Oh yeah, and there were lots of rats and mice. I don’t mean that you might see a rat once in a while. I mean, if you went a day without seeing like seven rats, it was unusual.

Well, flash forward a few years and here I am, back in Mount Olive. It was tough at first, like adjusting back to having to drive everywhere because those pesky sidewalks still don’t exist, and nothing I need is in walking distance anyway. And my local activities still consist largely of going to Applebee’s (because it’s open late), going to the mall and to the movies. These days, I don’t really consider myself “from Mount Olive,” because my work makes me spend so much time in other towns that I feel like I’m from a “greater area” versus a single town. And what I’ve found is that the greater area has a lot to offer. Maybe it’s partially maturity, maybe it’s the fact that I can drink now, but I’m actually loving some of the stuff to do around here.

For instance, Mount Olive doesn’t have a downtown, but Hackettstown does. And Hackettstown’s downtown has three breweries you can hang out at, that not only have good beer, but a great atmosphere with board games, ping pong tables, and fun parties.

I also appreciate a lot more of what Chester, the next town over, offers to do. After being a largely “country” and “antique” center for most of my childhood, Chester is getting to be pretty cool. They have some free-trade shops that sell awesome, unique clothes and collectables. And in the summer, it has countless festivals, farmer’s markets, fairs, and other events.

I also love Califon, which is a bit of a hike from where I live but not from where I work. Califon is basically your stereotypical small town. It feels so much like Stars Hollow from “Gilmore Girls.” Their Main Street has cute little shops, good restaurants, and everyone knows everyone.

And you really just cannot beat the natural aspect of this place. Everything is just so open, unlike the denseness of a city. There is fresh air. There are trees and rivers. There are so many farms. And I’m sorry, but nothing in a city can beat the cuteness of seeing baby horses chasing each other around the fields on your morning commute.

So, 12 years later, here I am. Am I a city girl living in the country? Or am I a country girl who loves the city? Oh, the confusion! Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there are more than two types of people in the world. Maybe it is possible to love the hustle-and-bustle of the city, and the peacefulness of the country. Perhaps it’s possible to love the concrete jungle, and nature.

Fortunately, New Jersey has a little bit of both!