The High Line, New York City

A friend spoke highly of the High Line, and I decided walking the trail would be a good way to spend a morning in Manhattan before heading to Baltimore by train in the afternoon. It was a beautiful walk on an end-of-summer day – quiet in a city not noted for quiet, secluded in parts, with views of the Hudson River and Chelsea in other parts. Very pleasant, very relaxing. The southern end of the trail is next to the Whitney Museum – if you have the time (alas, I did not), you can combine the High Line with a visit to the museum.

From Wikipedia (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/High_Line): The High Line is a 1.45-mile-long (2.33 km) elevated linear park, greenway and rail trail created on a former New York Central Railroad spur on the west side of Manhattan in New York City. … The abandoned spur has been redesigned as a “living system” drawing from multiple disciplines which include landscape architecture, urban design, and ecology. The High Line was inspired by the 4.7 km (2.9 mi) long Promenade plantée (tree-lined walkway), a similar project in Paris completed in 1993.

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The $29 Omelette, NYC

The Carnegie Diner & Cafe (at the corner of 7th and 57th) served up perfectly cooked eggs and hash browns, a salad of very fresh greens with a tasty dressing, and excellent coffee. The toast left a bit to be desired. But the service on a full-house Sunday morning was absolutely efficient and New York City friendly. None of the gushing, in-your-face “Hi, my name is Jason, and I am going to be your server today” that drives me crazy in Denver. Just a guy who took the order, got the food to me in a timely fashion, and made me feel like he was paying attention to what I needed. That cup of coffee was never empty.

But $29! That’s ten days or even two weeks of local breakfasts at home in Hoi An. No wonder I suffered from severe sticker shock for the entire month I was in the US.

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Dancing in the Street, NYC

The things people do at 8:00 on a Sunday morning in Manhattan. In this case, the blond – and only her hairdresser knows for sure – vamped her stuff while the fellow in the hoodie recorded the event on his, one presumes, iPhone. At the end of her strut, roughly when the she reached the end of the crosswalk, the two stopped to huddle, watch the result, and confer. Then – repeat. It was all very serious. Very, very serious.

About the time I was getting tired of watching these performances, the artiste and cinematographer packed up and walked away. Leaving me standing with my Nikon in front of the New York City Pubic Library, and the audience, consisting of one man, free to cross the street.

Capturing the Fifth Ave street sign perfectly aligned to the left side border of the photo was pure serendipity.

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