When it came to exiting my comfort zone at breakneck speed, a long weekend in New York definitely hit the mark.

I don’t know if we were lucky, or if I’m just out of practice, but from start to finish our travel was seamless. Take-off, landing and everything in between ran like clockwork. Ferries turned up on time, the subway was easy, and we had Sonya’s magical map-reading skills to keep us on the straight and narrow when we were walking (which was a lot). I do rather suspect that if I had been the one trying to navigate, we might never have left JFK…

We were also lucky with the weather, which was clear, crisp and beautiful for the whole of our turbo-charged four-day adventure. Clear skies and sunshine made everything we visited all the more stunning.  

Day One

Landing into JFK on Thursday, we zipped through customs, jumped on the AirTrain, changed onto the LIRR and headed for Penn Station where we surfaced like moles from darkness into light ready to head off into the city. I lost count of the blocks we crossed to get to our hotel, but there were a fair few. The pavements – sorry, sidewalks – are really high! Anyway, we made it to The Warwick, unpacked and power-napped until it was time to shower and head out to explore our home for the next few days.

First impressions? New York is HUGE. I got dizzy trying to see the tops of the skyscrapers. Everything is larger than life. Even the cars – enormous.

We walked along Fifth Avenue getting our bearings and looking ahead to all the things we’d be visiting on our trip, until eventually we arrived at our dinner destination on Day One, The Hotel Chelsea, for much-needed sustenance in the shape of cocktails and burgers and I finally achieved my ‘drinking a martini in New York’ dream. One to tick off the bucket list. We’d booked for 6pm. By 7pm we felt like we’d been out clubbing and it was midnight. Which of course, to our tired UK body clocks, it was. Time to head back, this time via the subway, everyone’s feet mutinying against any suggestion of further walking…

Day Two

O the joys of jet lag. It was a 2am, 4am and finally 6am staggered wake-up-and-then-give-up. We set off early into another perfect day, this time in the direction of the High Line, taking us above the city where we meandered through an oasis of gardens and green spaces running alongside the track. We dropped down for breakfast to the bright and brilliant Star on 18 diner, which served up strong coffee and a mountain of pancakes and bacon slathered in maple syrup. Breakfast of champions. Onwards we went, buoyed up with carbs, sugar and caffeine; me to catch up with my old Cisco friends at Penn One, Sonya and Anne to do a few laps of Central Park (or so they claimed) while they waited for me.

Reunited and topped up with more coffee to keep us going, we took to the stratosphere and headed up to The Top of the Rock, for an incredible dusk view of the city from the Rockefeller Center. Then out for supper at the Blue Dog Cook House (via Grand Central Station for sharpeners (ticking off the ‘drinking a negroni in New York’ box).

Day Three

I’d been looking forward to Saturday. We had a boat tour booked to take us to Liberty and Ellis Islands. Another stunning day brought a different perspective of the city and we looked back over the water to the city skyline (and past a lot of tall people’s heads – why can’t they just bloody sit down to take a selfie?) and on to meet Lady Liberty herself. I thought about all those people who’ve sacrificed so much and travelled so far, over so many decades, to reach America and be greeted by as much a statue as a symbol, not to mention a feat of engineering.

By the time we returned to the mainland I’d decided ‘Oat Sodas’ were a priority. We found a place that did cracking shrimp tacos, and while they were cooking I procured three Tsingtaos and a bar of dark chocolate with sea salt to go with. Didn’t touch the sides.

Our final stop of the day was Ground Zero.

Anyone who is old enough to remember 11^th September 2001, will know exactly where they were and the shock, watching those planes fly into the twin towers. It was powerful and moving to see those deep, black granite memorials in the spaces where the towers had once stood. We spent over two hours in the museum. I wondered how younger people for whom 9/11 isn’t part of their lived experience felt about what they were seeing. I found it very hard to watch the footage again, but for the sake of the 2,977 people who lost their lives that terrible day, we have to face into what happened and remember them.

Day Four

The turn for home. Via Central Park where I was convinced Brinkley and Tom Hanks were going to trot across Bow Bridge any minute. We decided a champagne brunch was the way to go with a long day of travel ahead of us. After being turfed out of The Plaza by a variety of snooty receptionists, we decamped to Jams for a far superior pre-flight breakfast experience. Lobster Benedict? Don’t mind if I do. It warranted a food photo to the fam; “Only in New York.” Came Eddie’s response.

A few trains and a plane later and we were home. In my case bleary eyed after two G&Ts, a glass of wine and an eyeful of sleep. Standard. A power nap got me through the rest of the day, and I slept for ten hours straight that night, waking up on Tuesday morning feeling (almost) normal.

I went into this trip more nervous than excited, with no idea what to expect. I’ve come home having made memories that will last a lifetime. I’ve also learned that more selfies you take, the better you get at taking them.  

Next stop, Barbados…