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I got on the plane at half ten at night and hopped off at half six or so the next morning, which sounds okay but because of the time difference between the East and West coasts the flight is actually only about 5 hours long, so I didn’t sleep much that night. Given I’d spent the previous night aboard a bus, by the time I made it to NYC I was sick of travelling, sick of being tired, and just wanted to go home to a warm bed. I found my hotel after some difficulty (getting slightly lost in Times Square) and did some laundry, got something to eat, had a shower and practically spent my first day in NYC in bed. Usually this would rate as a felony on a Lucia holiday, wasting time lazing about in bed (particularly in New York!) but I was just absolutely wrecked and without that down time I wouldn’t have had any fun at all over the next days.

Absolutely first order of business was Central Park. Last time I had been to New York (1993) I was 11 years old and I begged my mother every single day to go to the John Lennon memorial in Central Park. I was happy to do whatever she wanted – Rockerfeller Centre, Empire State Building, Liberty Island, Twin Towers, FAO Schwartz, whatever! Just as long as we went to the damn memorial. Needless to say I was dragged to a million different places and no memorial. So even though it was a cold, blustery day, I put on every single piece of clothing I had with me (for some reason, NYC is colder than Boulder, even though there wasn't snow. Probably it's all the wind) and headed out. Central park was ok, but I couldn't help thinking how much more fun it would be to visit it in the summertime. There'd actually be leaves on the trees, it would be so pretty, and you could lie on the grass and have a snooze or read a book. As it was, I headed straight to the memorial which was cool as someone had made a peace sign on it with roses. I took loads of pictures and pondered the coolness of John Lennon for a while, and then headed over to the Dakota building (where John used to live, Yoko still lives, and where he was shot in 1980). At least I think it was the Dakota building - it was the building at the spot where Lonely Planet said the Dakota was supposed to be, but the building gave absolutely no sign of its identity. So I took a picture of me in front of it, and called it a day. That's the Dakota building for me, anyway.

Over the next days I saw loads of NYC touristy crap - the Empire State Building (didn't go up it though - with a wait of more than an hour and a price tag of USD16, it just wasn't worth it) the 9/11 site (another mysterious lack of signage), did a tour of Central Station, which was totally cool and informative, went to the MET (you'd be stupid not to, and they have really cool Dali paintings), did a tour of the UN buildings (not as interesting as I had hoped as I didn't really learn anything new, but it was cool to at least see where all the UN stuff happens), went to Liberty Island (ok) and Ellis Island (amazing - the immigration museum is totally fascinating, and the audio tour was great! I spent a whole day there) and checked out districts like Harlem (not as scary as they say). The subway is fantastic and once you get around which trains are express and which aren't, it's absolutely the most efficient people-mover I've ever seen. Plus the people-watching opportunities on a subway are many and exciting.

Some non-particularly-touristy things I really enjoyed: Eating breakfast every day at a real NYC style diner where one of the waiters had a very strong "New Yawk Tawk" accent; the Egon Schiele exhibition that my totally hot Danish roomate Jacob recommended to me (Flor, you know all about this guy right? He's amazing - he's incredible - he's my new favourite artist - well, not quite); The inscription over the door of one of the rooms in the New York Public Library ("A good book is the precious lifeblood of a master spirit; embalmed and treasured up on purpose for a life beyond life"); and the cool vintage shops I (by this stage in the trip) was too broke to buy things in.

New York was, after I'd gotten over my initial exhaustion, just as exciting and invigorating and vibrant and fabulous as they make out. I'd move there - maybe. Probably not, but I wouldn't rule it out. Anyway, my time in NYC was short and pretty soon it was time to make my last US stop before my return home to Eire - Boston, MA.