Last days in New York

"A city is not gauged by its length and width, but by the broadness of its vision and the height of its dreams." — Herb Caen

The High Line

After walking what felt like half of Manhattan and taking two unexpectedly expensive taxis, we finally gave the metro a shot. To our surprise, New York’s subway system turned out to be incredibly affordable, straightforward, and more efficient than we expected. We love to walk—it’s our favorite way to discover a city—but New York is big. The metro saved us time and energy, especially today, when we started all the way across town at one of Manhattan’s west side gems: The High Line.

We emerged from the subway into a vibrant neighborhood pulsing with city life—car horns echoing, pedestrians weaving through traffic. But as we climbed the stairs to the High Line, everything changed. Suddenly, we were elevated above the noise and rush, wrapped in a quiet canopy of native plants, art installations, and a cool breeze off the Hudson River.

The High Line is more than just a park—it’s a reimagined space, a dream built from the bones of the past. Once part of the New York Central Railroad’s West Side Line, it used to carry freight trains through Manhattan’s industrial districts. Left abandoned and overgrown, it nearly faced demolition before a grassroots movement led by the “Friends of the High Line” saved it. Inspired by Paris’s Promenade Plantée, they transformed the decaying tracks into a place where nature, art, and city life could coexist.

As we wandered along the winding path, weaving between towering apartment buildings and sleek modern architecture, we felt a gentle stillness. Wooden loungers and benches invited passersby to pause, breathe, and watch the city from above. In one amphitheater-like space, we sat and gazed through a giant window that framed the bustling avenue below—a city scene transformed into a living theater. Wildflowers bloomed along the edges of the tracks, echoing the way they once overtook the rails when the line was forgotten.

This place felt like a bridge—not just between neighborhoods, but between people and the city itself. As we passed schools, cafés, and rooftop gardens, we saw kids playing in a schoolyard far below, and office workers leaning out of windows with coffee cups in hand. Yet on the High Line, time moved differently. It was relaxed and peaceful.

In my opinion, every city deserves a space like this—a place that brings green to gray, offering a sense of safety and encouraging you to slow down and reflect. It reminded me how vital it is to find breath in the middle of motion. The High Line is definitely one of my favorite places in New York City.

Lady Liberty

From the High Line, we walked along the Hudson River. The sun was beginning to dip low in the sky, casting warm amber light over the water. We made our way toward the Brooklyn Bridge, its iconic arches glowing gold in the evening haze. There, we boarded a sailboat to circle the Statue of Liberty.

The boat rocked gently as we stepped aboard, the sails still down. As the crew called for volunteers, I joined others near the bow, hands gripping thick rope, pulling in rhythm with shouts of “Heave-ho!” The moment the sails caught the wind, the boat lifted and tilted with grace. We were off—New York’s skyline slowly drifting behind us, the city bathed in a soft, golden hue.

We found a spot on the upper deck near the helm, just beside the captain, who steered with calm expertise. From there, we watched the skyline shrink, the sea stretch out, and the Statue of Liberty rise in the distance, proud and still against the glowing sky.

There was a quiet reverence among everyone on board as we neared her. Cameras clicked, but there was also silence—everyone taking in the moment. The city, usually so loud and frantic, had gifted us this moment of grace. It felt like the perfect way to say goodbye.

After we docked, we took the metro one last time back to the apartment, our faces a little sun-kissed, windblown, and full of memories.

The Next Chapter

The next morning, we packed our bags with that familiar mix of excitement and bittersweet nostalgia. One last look out the window. One last coffee in a paper cup. Then it was off to the airport.

Next destination: Bergen, Norway.

See you soon, New York. You were everything and more.