This is how a week in NYC flashes by

New York City is electric. 

Our Airbnb overlooks Martin Luther Ave in Harlem where life moves in a multicultural stream of music, voices, street vendors, and fast food. The giant arteries of the subway system connect the sub lives of each district which thrive around the green relief of Central Park. In the middle of it all Time Square bleeds flashing neon entertainment and time flies by as full and as fast as the subway at peak hour.  We walk in and out of the crowds in Time Square towards a gold gilded theatre. The ushers harem pants swish back and forth as he guides us to our plush red seats. The curtain raises with the triumphant sound of the live orchestra and the cast of Disney's Aladdin pour onstage in a choreography of colour and song. The night is early as we leave the theatre, cross the street and descend three flights of stairs towards another slice of America culture . We pass the framed lyrics of Jimi Hendrix and perch ourselves on high bar stools,  surrounded by classic American Hard Rock on all sides. A few drinks more and we are in the middle of Times Square being swept away by the raw energy that surrounds us, a feeling that continues into the next day as the Madonna infused glittering floats of The March influence our direction towards the Empire State Building, then fade into barely perceptible twinkles as we overlook the entire city from the top. We marvel at the grandness of the Empire State Building later in the afternoon from a rooftop bar as the sun shines bright and picks out the intertwined c's of our Coco Chanel sunglasses fresh from fifth avenue. The June summer is endless.  We walk the urban green High Line and our ice blocks melt fast in the heat, pooling in our bellies which are still full from last nights dinner at Jack's Wife Freda and tender from laughter courtesy of the late night show at The Comedy Cellar.  Our steps take us through the foodies in the Meatpacker District, around kitcsch Chelsea Markets, across the Brooklyn Bridge and into the throngs of hipsters in Williamsburg. The funky boutique stores and a homely meal at Rabbithole seem a world way from the three guards posted outside Trump Tower, wearing thick boots, black guns and expressionless faces. Days merge into nights and back into day and some of us succumb to jet lag via a rhythmic boat induced nap on the Circle Line Cruise, as the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island pass by.  We wake up in a dream to Van Goghs starry nights at MoMA and dive into the past at the American Museum of Natural History. Culture intertwines in Greenwich Village as we pass the bar famous for launching the likes of Bob Dylan and stumble upon Carrie Bradshaw's apartment, before finding ourselves back in Harlem, seated out on the pavement where our flamboyantly white and seemingly out of place waiter delights us as much as the menu.  We heart NYC amidst applause with yoga in front of the LOVE sculpture before we finish the trip, like turning the last page from our vintage books found at the New York Public Library.

 

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