I’ve spoken in this space about various things I love about travel, but there’s something else I love about it that I haven’t touched on yet: Travel often proves us wrong.

I know this will sound shocking and maybe even downright blasphemous, but for years I had no interest in visiting NYC. Not only did I not have an interest, but I was a tad set against it. I grew up in eastern Kentucky and southern West Virginia, and trips to New York (or travel, period) just wasn’t something my family every did or planned to do. I grew up hearing all of the stereotypical and inflated judgements of the city, including statements of every square inch of it always being crowded, the volume of noise being unrelenting, the street smells assaulting one’s senses, consumerism leaving it free of any charm, and so on. I am truly, seriously, and wholly sad and embarrassed to say that I believed many of these statements for much of my life.

When we moved to Connecticut from Virginia three years ago, it put us only a bit over 100 miles from NYC. It was right about that time that not only did I start seeing content and articles from the city that appealed to me, but we started meeting numerous folks who have spent a lot of time in the city and waxed poetic about it in a way I had never witnessed. I was intrigued.

We waited a while to visit due to the pandemic, but finally visited Manhattan last January. It was a truly lovely day of catching the train in from New Haven, admiring the interior of Grand Central, walking the stunning avenues of the Upper West Side, and taking in the exhibits at the New York Historical Society. A friend of ours, who worked in Manhattan for decades, took on the role of our tour guide and we loved hearing his stories of 1970s and ‘80s New York. We took our time with the exhibits, had some bagels from Modern Bagel, and sipped cocktails at the gorgeous bar in Thyme & Tonic. Before jumping back on the train, we ended the evening with a stunning, low-lit dinner at Pera, near Grand Central. It was the perfect, low-key introduction to NYC. I remember telling Andrew on the train home that I now knew what people meant when they spoke of the magic of New York. I felt it, and I couldn’t wait to experience it again.

This past week, we excitedly headed back into the city, and this time with our friends Margaret & Raghib. Raghib lived in the city for a while, has worked there quite a bit, and has a deep love for it, so we knew he would be another fantastic tour guide. He had even taken the time to create a “Sensory Underload Itinerary” and somehow devised a way to successfully see multiple neighborhoods and boroughs without overwhelming anyone.

After taking the train in, we left Grand Central with the plan to walk to Central Park, taking in architecture and stopping for lunch on the way. Even though we were there on Indigenous Peoples’ Day, it hadn’t occurred to any of this that there would be a parade. We essentially followed the Italian-American Heritage parade route along parts of 5^th Avenue, hoping to cross, but without success. We didn’t make it to our planned lunch spot, but we rolled with it, found lunch elsewhere, and were able to cross the parade toward Central Park afterward. As we crossed 5^th Avenue between parade floats, I definitely pretended I was part of it.

Our time in Central Parking was lovely, which is only to be expected. Leaves had begun to change with hints of gold here and there. People picnicked, climbed rocks, walked dogs, and generally looked quite content. As someone who is a devoted nature lover who generally feels a disdain for contemporary architecture, I still felt awed by the skyscrapers rising up around the edges of Central Park. It’s as if something about them compels you to look at them and appreciate them for that they are.

After strolling for a bit, we stopped at Tavern on the Green for a refreshment, watching the horse-drawn carriages make their circuit. Next on our itinerary was the High Line, over in Chelsea. I hadn’t heard of it before, but was seriously impressed by the use of old rail lines to create more greenspace and casual walking space for residents and tourists alike. I truly wish I had snapped more photos, but I was simply enjoying the pleasant walk, the architecture, and the views down avenues one wouldn’t be able to enjoy otherwise.

Walking the High Line had conveniently taken us into the West Village, where we gawked at stunning old rowhouses and wide cobblestone avenues. We stepped into Screaming Mimis Vintage and had fun looking at the countless costumes, accessories, and other clothing items. After more strolling, we popped into one of the Goorin Bros. locations and admired the rows of high-quality hats. Being a small and quiet shop, it was a perfect place to pause for a moment. It also put us near Do Not Feed Alligators, a charming café with delicious coffee that we were able to enjoy in their relaxed garden space.

As if the day hadn’t already had us giddy, our walk across the Brooklyn Bridge had us feeling like we were experiencing the most magical thing one possibly could in NYC. The timing had worked out perfectly and golden hour was illuminating the skyscrapers, as well as the surface of the East River. Was the bridge full of other people at the time? Yes. Did that take away from the experience at all? None whatsoever. If anything, it made it even more special to look around and see every other person smiling and enjoying themselves. Families took photos with the iconic arches in the background, couples kissed as sunlight cast a glow upon them, and there was an uncanny feeling in that moment that the entire city was pulsating with magic.

Our final neighborhood for the evening only kept the magic flowing. After exiting the bridge, we walked the short distance down into DUMBO (Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass), where we fawned over restored brick warehouses and seemingly unending cobblestone streets. The view of the Manhattan Bridge down Washington Street was like a beacon leading us to more magic. As we walked closer, Raghib said, “Just wait for this, guys.”

I can’t imagine we disappointed him when we turned a building corner, saw the sweeping view of the East River, the Manhattan Bridge, & the Manhattan skyline, and proceeded to gasp and gush over how incredible it was. We walked along the water and noticed this was yet another place within the city where absolutely everyone around seemed to be caught up in the magic just as much as we were.

I am still amazed this happened, but when we were ready for our dinner at Cecconi’s—recommended by Raghib— I took one look at the restaurant’s outdoor seating and outstanding view of the skyline and worried we wouldn’t get a table. Not only did we get a table, but I am convinced we got the best table. We were delightfully situated on the patio with views of the skyline, water, Manhattan Bridge, and Brooklyn Bridge.

After a day of walking, we were ready for some Italian carbs, and Cecconi’s didn’t disappoint on that front either. My fusilli with kale pesto was absolute perfection, as was the glass of Umbrian sangiovese I had with it. As we took our time, savored our spread, and chatted, sunset cast its rosy glow upon the city around us. I frequently paused for photos because I just couldn’t believe the stunning light, or our luck. Before we knew it, night had fallen and there were countless lights illuminated in the darkness. The warm luminosity of the revolving carousel nearby only added more romance to the scene.

Raghib had one more surprise for us. Conveniently staying within the same former warehouse building, we walked up a couple of flights of stairs to a rooftop bar whose view had even greater stretch. Andrew and I each grabbed a cocktail and returned to find that Margaret and Raghib had once again managed to get the table with the best view. I cannot reiterate enough how fortunate I felt the entirety of that day and how much I felt like the Universe was wooing us. Even with taking our time and chatting, it was still hard to pull ourselves away from that view. Alas, it was growing late and we had a train ride home. It didn’t matter that tiredness had set in once we settled onto the warm train, the four of us still displayed unmistakable giddiness from the day. Unsurprisingly, we threw out ideas of where to go in NYC on the next trip.

I am still so glad to have been proven wrong about New York. To think I could have continued to cheat myself out of experiencing the magic that so many others know and appreciate…

So, may we continue to follow our curiosity, even when we’re discouraged from it. May we continue to be proven wrong by places. And may we continue to lean into the awe of it all.

Still thinking of that pasta,

Lara