In which Roz and Layla see transport-themed art, hear stories, and explore their fifth NYC borough

When we arrived in New York, Roz and I were rumpled by the thought of this being our last New York minibreak for some time, possible years. We struggled with a plan, with a wild internal panic that we might not make the most of it – and the rain certainly didn’t help. Soon we had found a hipster bakery for lunch, and we started to calm down. We headed for a transportation exhibition at the New York Transit Museum outpost at Grand Central Station, which was quite pleasant, then headed down to the Meatpacking District to see the Whitney in its new location. The Whitney is a modern art museum and its new building beautifully reflects this. I loved the outside balconies and steps and views over the Highline Park and out to the Statue of Liberty (once the rain went off). I wasn’t quite so enthused by the actual artwork, though the reviews would suggest I am alone in this. Lots of interesting things to see though, and rounded off with an icecream at the unbearably (yet delightfully) hipster Gansevoort Market.

While we ate our ice cream, I noticed a tweet about an exhibition at the Society of Graphic Illustrators, all about art commissioned by the New York Metro Transport Authority. How could we resist our second transport-themed art extravaganza of the day? We hopped on a train and soon we were the exhibition’s only (and most enthusiastic) visitors, very much enjoying all the cool train art, not to mention the enviable restaurant which was sadly closed. Instead we went to a rather lovely wine bar and had a quick dinner and glass of wine before getting on another train and heading north, destination: the Bronx.

We popped out at Yankee Stadium, walked a few minutes, and found ourselves at the Bronx Museum of the Arts, location that evening of The Moth story slam. The room filled up with story lovers and while I put my name in the bag, for at least the fourth time of trying, I was not selected to tell my story. However, this was probably for the best as there were some truly excellent storytellers, especially the eventual winner who was an absolute treat to hear. We laughed, we cried and we drank cheap beer, and wondered how New York storytellers were so outstanding.

The next day we marveled over the superlative buffet (one of us more than the other – this does not bode well for my behavior at the breakfast buffet aboard the Queen Mary 2 in a couple of months…) at the Marriott Residence Hotel, before heading out in the rain to the IFC to see a Japanese anime film. This is becoming a bit of a New York tradition for us! The film in question was When Marnie Was There, which we were quite excited about as a potential lesbian romance, til sadly this was disproved. But very enjoyable nevertheless, and by the time we emerged, the rain had gone off. We strolled down 6^th Avenue towards Soho, stopping for some falafel sandwiches for lunch, before catching up with the New York Gallery Tours, our favourite tour of the best current gallery exhibitions. We’d never been on a Soho-based tour, and really enjoyed many of the seven galleries we visited, particularly one with a really cool light and shadow approach. Afterwards we went to a hipster coffee shop and read our books, then strolled around the perimeter of Washington Park in the sunshine, watching dogs frolic in the various size-specific dog parks. Then we grabbed ice cream, and got in line at the Cornelia Street Café. Not only did we go there on our New York honeymoon, the Cornelia Street Café is home both to some outstanding hummous, and to The Liar Show, the Perfect Liars Club’s New York sister. We had an entertaining time listening to the stories and trying to guess the liar… and I was insufferably smug when I was successful! After the show we went upstairs and drank champagne and had dinner and toasted a delightful Saturday.

On Sunday morning, I tried to restrain myself at the breakfast buffet though sadly my eventual choices could not accurately be described as such. We walked our suitcase half an hour down the road, through the Sunday morning streets, to put it in left luggage at Penn Station, then hopped on a train bound for Queens.

We’ve had plans for a while to explore more hiking in New York City, and had heard good things about Forest Park. It involved a train and a bus but eventually we got there. Forest Park is flawed by being too loudly surrounded by freeways… but it was otherwise lovely. We took several trails around the park and it felt satisfactorily foresty. Perhaps we should have quit while we were ahead…

“Hmmm, you know what looks near on the map?” asked Roz. “Flushing Meadows!” It was, it turned out, not that near. Thank goodness we stopped at a random place for bagels, because it turned out to be quite a trek to get there, along sidewalks that had not encountered another pedestrian for years, in the increasingly blazing sun. It probably took us about 40 minutes to get to Flushing Meadows, on the banks of a pretty lake, and when we did, Roz stepped in mud up to one of her ankles. We stopped to de-mud and rest in the shade under a tree while watching a huge Korean party that involved repeated games of tug-of-war. What was delightful about Flushing Meadows was how many local families were there to hang out and have fun.

We kept walking, and soon found ourselves up where the World’s Fair once took place. This was very cool – all the paths were named after parts of the world, or ‘commerce’ or whatever. There was a huge globe, and various old fashioned futuristic buildings. Plus it turned out to be a big anniversary festival, with music and food and cheeriness. We walked all through it and ended up playing minigolf which was very satisfactory, particularly when I won!

We headed home past the Mets stadium. Or rather we headed to a sushi bar just off Union Square, then to Dear Irving, one of our favourite cocktail speakeasies. We had some delicious drinks in delightfully cool surroundings and toasted our lovely weekend, before walking another half hour, because clearly we had not walked far enough, to Penn Station and home to DC. My Up Jawbone says I walked 30,000 steps today… I can believe it! Goodbye New York. The next time we see you we’ll be preparing to sail away.