There are plenty of iconic sights in New York that people can recite without thinking but it is always good to find something a little bit unusual to do on a trip and today’s walk along the High Line was certainly that.
The High Line is a stretch of disused railway that ran above the city road transport goods around. Over time more and more was transported by road and the high line was closed and fell into disrepair. Given the traffic on New York’s streets I am amazed that it was felt better that than use a dedicated rail line but that’s the case.
Ten years ago the line was to be torn down but, fortunately, some locals worked to preserve it and turn it into the High Line of today. It is a mile long walk where half of the tracks have been turned over to planting and works of art. It is a very lovely space.
I was really sorry to reach the end of the line but all good things must come to an end and so it was for the High Line.
From there we walked via Greenwich Village to the Flatiron building, here we did something that I wish we’d done earlier – had a hot dog from a street vendor. It tasted amazing. Proper sausage (not a frankfurter) cooked on a griddle right in front of you. Delicious!
And that was it for our time in NYC and we’d had a great time but now it was time to move on to the capitol – Washington DC. We had booked to travel down by train on Amtrak. This meant going to Penn Station which is, apparently, the busiest train station in the Western Hemisphere and I can well believe it.
We were slightly concerned as our ticket said “reserved seats” but gave no seat numbers. Turns out that meant we just had a ticket for that train and so when the platform was announced we made sure that we were near the front to ensure we got seats which we did without too much bother.
Inside the carriage the seats were spacious and reclined. It was very much like being on a plane. However, I think that the track must have been made of lumps of metal loosely held together because it was a bumpy ride. Outside the window was interesting though as American slipped by.
Union station in Washington is another beautiful place to rival Grand Central and was a lovely way to arrive in the city.
Tired and weary we were guided to a taxi by a driver waiting at the entrance, not necessarily for us but for anyone he could find. He couldn’t understand where it was that we wanted to go when we gave the hotel name but was ok with the address. When we arrived he said “oh the Grawham”. We had been saying “Greyham” as it is the Graham hotel but who knows what’s right round here!