SIGHTSEEING IN NYC NEVER GETS OLD
COOL WITH A CHANCE OF SIGHTSEEING
“P lay with your ears,” is pretty much how the day is planned.
A take on “Let’s play it by ear,” New York has been Dagostan’s backyard since way back when fold out maps ruled the city. Fun and fearless, his casa in Queens is charged with an off-the-wall vibe that is contagious, fueling you with fire to take a brave juicy bite out of the Big Apple, no matter what the weather.
18oC, partial clouds, sun
At the 46th st.-Bliss st. subway station in Queens, you half expect Peter Parker to be running the streets below, just as Tobey Maguire did, catching the school bus in Spider-Man 2.
A quarter turn and click later, it’s a surreal selfie, elevated train tracks and Empire State Building all in one sunny frame.
Jumping onto the Manhattanbound 7, we’re off to two landmark stations.
Covering 19 hectares, Grand Central Terminal is exactly that. Though a century old, its breadth is sealed in the Guinness world records as the largest station by number of platforms, total 44. Elegant, memory recalls the space in a beautifully slow, filtered flashback kind-ofway: commuters flurrying past, morning light shafting through arch windows, vaulted ceiling a shade of Tiffany blue, departure boards promising adventure. And of course, don’t forget to visit the Apple Store.
The Oculus on the other hand is white. And stark. And modern. While Grand Central is something to feel with the senses, the Oculus is something to understand with the mind. Outside, one can see where Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava was going with his dove released by a child concept. Inside, its $4 billion sticker price is the lone elephant in the room, a “less is more” thought bubble filling the empty, cavernous atrium.
Nearby, at the 9/11 Memorial, fountains mark the fallen towers’ footprints. Water crashes into chasmic square basins 30 feet below. Deafening sound silences all thought, save for the anguish lingering in the area. You say a prayer, for the thousands of names etched along the granite border.
10oC, cloudy, chance of rain
Walk through Chelsea market. Part of the former Nabisco factory complex, it buzzes artsy as a food hall and venue for one-of-a-kind crafted items. Think Etsy meets hip weekend market meets boutique mall, open seven days a week.
At the Neue Galerie, gawk at Klimts. Stand before the Austrian painter’s golden Adele Bloch-Bauer I. Forget about the rain, and the time.
“Austria’s Mona Lisa” dazzles up close with actual gold and silver leaf. Headily Byzantine/ Japanese/textile pattern/gilded relief, you wonder what sort of genius you’d be, if you swore off social media. And Netflix.
Sugar magnate Ferdinand Bloch-Bauer commissioned the painting of his wife. Completed between 1903-1907, stolen by
the Nazis in 1941, returned to the family more than half a century later. Acquired by Ronald Lauder, son of Estée, in 2006, at $135 million, it was the highest paid for a painting at the time.
Klimt’s second portrait of Adele hangs in the same room. Oprah Winfrey anonymously pursued Adele Bloch Bauer II at an auction in 2006, outbidding competitors by phone, shelling out a cool $87.9 million. In 2016, identity revealed, it was sold for $150 million, surpassing the price of Adele Bloch-Bauer I, value increasing 71 percent in the 10 years Winfrey owned it. 20oC, sunny, with friends
No dearth of venues here to catch up with friends over a bite to eat.
Saturday, 11 a.m., the signature cronuts are already sold out. Line up early at Dominique Ansel Bakery. Out of luck? Try the warm cookie shot: chocolate chip cookie filled to the brim with milk. Lactose intolerants, beware.
At Stella 34 Trattoria on Macy’s sixth floor, have lunch with a view of the Empire State.
Old world ice cream parlor meets new world flavors at Morgenstern’s. Durian banana a hands down favorite, not to be missed is the inky coconut ash. Hitting bestseller status by Instagrammability rather than flavor, the good man behind the counter offers it tastes more charcoal (aka ash) than fruit (aka coconut). Undeterred, we go for it anyway. Neutral though earthy, pair it with a second scoop oozing personality, like a boozy vanilla bourbon. Yummy coal against creamy white? A snap and a post are hard to pass up.
The flat whites at Blue Stone Lane are heaven. As is the ambience. As is the name of the congregation that this former chapel is a part of: Church of the Heavenly Rest. Where brides would once wait before weddings, now nibble avocado toasts while watching Fifth Ave. walk by. Servers make converts out of chapel-turned-café skeptics, directing all in need of relief to the main Episcopalian church nearby, the keys to heaven guised as a door lock combo to the restroom.
The cold front is back. It’s overcast. Not the best conditions to board the Staten Island Ferry, all photos will be gray, at best. Citi Bike app says the Financial District isn’t far. Pedaling towards Wall Street, you quietly take leave, “Maybe later Lady Liberty, today’s a good day to see the Charging Bull.”