Entrance to New York City's High Line
When I was in New York City, there were two things everyone wanted me to see: Occupy Wall Street and the High Line. In my very limited time, I opted for the High Line. Anyway, New Yorkers giving a damn about something seemed a contradiction in terms.
Depending which movies you’ve been watching, you might get the wrong idea about a place in New York called the High Line, but it is a project where native plants have been planted on old train tracks. An interesting place, good for bird and people watching – or both at the same time, if you’re so inclined. After some time spent sketching and admiring shrubbery, I decided to try to work in some of New York’s sights I had on previous trips neglected.
First stop: the New York Public Library, which up ‘til now I’d only seen the outside of on account of renovations during my first visit and a fashion show I was unable to sneak into during the second. Third time the charm – and in my easily entertained opinion, worth the wait. Then it was off to Grand Central Station through inconsistent drizzle.
On the way to Washington Square Park to see the famous arch, I stopped at Eataly. Like every other old-style market I’ve been to, it was worth it just for the spectacle. There’s just something about expensive food you have no way of transporting that is interesting and hunger inducing. In spite of having seen the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, it was cool to see the arch at Washington Park and the people practicing juggling.
I spent the night waiting to hear one of the cars going by outside crash into another, something that in the time I spent trying to fall asleep did not occur. Next day wandered around the cool galleries in Chelsea.
Few hours later and it was time to stand on a corner and wonder what I’d have to do to get a speeding cab to stop. Turned out eye contact and the presence of luggage was sufficient. Just my luck: in a city known for a standoffish population and friendly cabbies, I got the most unfriendly cabbie this side of the guy in Taxi Driver. I don’t know if it was a language issue or my heavy luggage and short trip; either way, I was the one who instigated a conversation that was more of an interview with an unwilling subject just to break the silence.
C'est la vie. If you want to have a good time in New York, the most important thing you can do is keep your sense of humor intact.