I'm a New Yorker thinking about moving to the Midwest. I loved my first visit to Cleveland — except for one thing.

• As a New Yorker, I've been curious about relocating to a different city.
• I've liked other Midwest cities, so I was excited to go to Cleveland.
• I loved Cleveland's walkability, cleanliness, and food. I just wished more people were around.

As someone who grew up in the tri-state area and lived most of her life in NYC, I have an itch to move in a few years. I love my neighborhood and will have a hard time leaving, but my partner and I have been curious about relocating to a more affordable city.

Basically, my dream is a city that's like New York, but where we could rent (or even one day buy) a bigger apartment. It'd also be nice to not feel so smushed all the time — it was very telling that at the height of the pandemic in NYC, I actually felt the calmest I had in years because of how much quieter my neighborhood got.

So far, I've really gravitated towards Midwestern cities like Chicago, Milwaukee, and Madison because they feel walkable and lively without being packed with people I'm irrationally mad at for wanting to have brunch at the same place I do.

Before I went to Twinsburg, Ohio to report on the annual Twins Days Festival, I flew into Cleveland for the first time. I decided to spend the day there and ended up loving it — except for one glaring thing I still don't understand.

Everything felt cleaner and refreshingly spacious

My cat sometimes makes a run for it when I open the front door to our apartment, but when she reaches the hallway, she freezes up — as if she can't fully process how much bigger the world is outside of her cluttered bubble.

That's how I felt when I left the Tower City RTA station, which I'd compare to the Times Square subway stop in terms of centrality — but without any of the chaos.

As I started walking, it felt foreign to not have to squeeze myself to let someone pass or artfully dodge a Chihuahua-sized rat. I also never felt like I was in anyone's way when I opened my phone to look for directions. I could go at my own pace, and seeing stretches of wide, litter-free sidewalks felt like a brain cleanse.

Cleveland is a dream for foodies

Because I was in Cleveland for such a short time, I only got to try a few spots I wrote down from Google, and mostly out of convenience: Barrio, a Mexican chain where you can build your own tacos; Brewnuts, a beer-and-donut shop, and Terrestrial, a classic brewery. I enjoyed all of them, especially the tacos, which I got with gochujang tofu.

Other places I had on my list were West Side Market (a huge public food market with over 60 vendors); La Plaza Taqueria, a beloved taco spot; Astoria Cafe & Market, a Greek-inspired brunch hotspot; Happy Dog, a hot dog bar with live music, and Cloak & Dagger, a vegan cocktail bar.

From what I could tell, there is no shortage of cuisines or fun food concepts (did I mention I ate a donut with a beer?).

Cleveland felt surprisingly walkable compared to other big cities

One thing I love about living in New York is not having to drive. It drives me (pun intended) wild that so many American cities are heavily reliant on driving. Even if I liked driving (I don't), I'd still feel restless spending a 73-degree day trapped in traffic, as I could in cities like LA, Austin, and Nashville.

It'd be nice to have a car in Cleveland, since the neighborhoods are pretty spaced out. But overall, I found it surprisingly easy to get around simply by walking and using public transportation. I don't recall a single time where the sidewalk ended abruptly or rolled into a clear highway.

I found out later that according to research from Smart Growth America, Cleveland ranks as the most equitably walkable city — meaning, walkability is accessible to a wider range of social groups (New York City was ranked second).

A beach, stadium, and arts district are all reasonably close

In less than eight hours, I passed by the Cleveland Browns Stadium, Edgewater Beach, and the Gordon Square Arts District.

New York has the equivalents of these things, but every major stadium is essentially a day trip on the subway, as is the beach. Theoretically, you could do a lot in a day in Cleveland: There are also museums, outdoor spaces, concert venues, and even Cuyahoga Valley National Park.

The "Midwest nice" thing is real (and wonderful)

I hate when people say New Yorkers aren't nice: I think it's just that we're sometimes preoccupied and a little flustered (at least, I am).

But I've found the "Midwest nice" thing to be real, and a notably different experience each time.

Because of last-minute flight changes, I didn't have a hotel to leave my luggage in, so I carried my duffle around all day. A man saw me at a crosswalk and simply said "Oh, that doesn't look like fun." It was a small moment, but kind of nice; I was struggling a little, and there was something humanizing about being seen rather than blurring into a crowd.

Later in the day, I walked by a quiet row of beach houses when I heard a soft "hi!" I took a few paces back and saw a woman sitting on her porch. We waved and I kept walking.

Sometimes, however, the niceness felt too different from what I'm used to. I just wanted to recede into solitude and blend in. It made me realize how unaccustomed I am to having a waiter check in so many times, or an Uber driver immediately ask me questions.

There was one thing I didn't like about Cleveland: The emptiness

While I craved fewer crowds, I didn't expect the perplexing emptiness I saw in Cleveland, especially since so many of the places I went to were considered touristy. As someone who's used to seeing crowds of people everywhere all the time, the lack of crowds made me feel uneasy in otherwise gorgeous areas.

Part of it might have been my timing: I was in the city late on a summer Friday afternoon. Maybe people were at work, I rationalized, or on vacation. But it still didn't explain the jarring juxtaposition between the sheer size of the city and all its attractions — and the actual turnout.

I asked an Uber driver about this. He said I wasn't imagining it: Cleveland used to be one of the biggest and most influential US cities. But, partly due to the decline of the steel industry, it went through a serious population loss and never really recovered.

One Reddit user likened Cleveland to "feeling like you somehow got into disneyland when all the rides are working but it is closed to the public." That's exactly how I felt — I cycled through beautiful shops and flower-lined streets knowing that the equivalents in New York would be bursting at the seams with people.

It made me miss the unexpected: Having more strangers around, if only to tell them how much this city rules.