Second Day in The Big Apple

On a bitterly cold day  our second day in the City began when  we jumped on the Subway and made our way down to South Manhatten to join the Staten Island Ferry.

At terminal in Manhattan, bundled up in thick coats, gloves, and woolen hats, bracing against the biting wind coming off the East River.

 The sky is low and heavy with cloud cover, turning the world around us into a muted gray, save for the vibrant orange of the ferry approaching the dock. The river, once fluid, is now dotted with large chunks of ice drifting lazily with the current, giving the landscape an otherworldly feel, as if time has slowed.

As the ferry departs, we turned to take in the view of Manhattan’s towering skyline, its sharp lines softened by the mist. Skyscrapers rise up like monuments, the highest peaks disappearing into the thick layer of cloud.

The iconic skyline—dominated by the gleaming new One World Trade Center—seems both powerful and distant, as if it is being swallowed by the low-hanging sky.




Despite the cold, we stepped outside to the open deck, eager to feel the pulse of the river and take in the unfolding panorama. As we passed Ellis Island and approach the Statue of Liberty, her torch just visible through the mist, we stood close, marveling at the solemn beauty of the scene. 

The cold nippeds at our cheeks, but we linger outside, watching as the statue fades into the distance, wrapped in the soft haze of the river mist, until finally, Staten Island begins to emerge on the horizon. Our time on Staten Island was brief due to the freezing weather, just enough time for a coffee before the return journey to Manhatten.

Next stop was the grand halls of Grand Central Station, immediately we were  struck by its magnificence. The chill from outside seemed to melt away as they entered, replaced by the warmth and life buzzing around them. Above, the cavernous ceiling arched high and expansive, its celestial blue dotted with golden constellations, like a night sky captured within the station’s walls.

 Sunlight filtered through the towering arched windows, casting soft beams that illuminated the marble floors and created a play of light and shadow on the bustling scene below.

We stood still for a moment, hand in hand, letting the grandeur sink in. The sweeping staircases on either side, the vast expanse of the main concourse, and the iconic four-faced clock at the center of the information booth—all of it felt timeless, a tribute to an era of elegance and ambition.

 The clock's golden glow seemed to anchor the space, a gathering point for hurried commuters and wide-eyed tourists alike.

On that January evening, stepped into O'Brien's Pub, seeking refuge from the chill of the New York streets. The warmth of the dimly lit interior embraced us immediately as we pushed open the door, the faint scent of whiskey and woodsmoke mingling with the crisp air the we’d just left behind. Inside, the pub was a cozy retreat from the wintry world, its walls lined with dark oak, worn smooth by years of laughter and conversation.