What would you have done on day 3? A Saturday?

Now this would have been a perfect day for a rest. Day 0: Travel. Day 1: Learn NYC and see fireworks. Day 2: Bus and boat tours.

Day 3: Rest

It would have totally made sense. We’d been melted by the heat/humidity and while we loved the lack of crowds, it was clear every New Yorker who could have fled the city, had fled the city due to the weather.

So, naturally, we decided to do another full day.

Or rather, had one planned.

I was really looking forward to this day, however. It was a day with my cousin who would show us HER New York City. Born and raised in NY, living in the city for a long time, she had some ideas. She knew of a great place to eat lunch and wanted to take us to Carnegie Hall (where her and her mom had seen so many great concerts).

I was moved not just by the choice of Carnegie Hall, but by the connection to her mom. Since her mom passed away, she hadn’t been able to go back. The experience was just not the same. The memories were like dark clouds over any performance she thought of seeing.

She arrived to escort us about 9am. Yesterday, the weather channel said it would be cloudy with rain. So, we brought our rain slickers, or rather The-Youngest carried them in our now 300lb backpack. Of course, when we got out, no clouds were in sight – just the usual sunny sun and its menopausal sister, humidity.

Our cousin was a pro on the subway. She knew when to go on the express train and when to switch trains for a faster arrival. She knew where to stand on the platforms to get the best subway car on a busy day. She knew how to get into a subway car and grab a seat without being rude (which was basically, stop being Canadian and letting everyone go first.) She even snuck us from one car to another while the train was moving, which, I won’t lie, was a little badass.

I felt like Tom Cruise being chased by assassins.

Our cousin had booked a guided tour of Carnegie. Jeffery, our guide, had been there for about a million years and with quiet, competence, took us through the stories, the history and the architecture of the hall. I loved that he still loved to show people around, that he loved not only the history of the hall but of all of New York City.

We gave lots of hugs to our cousin as we made our way through the hall since for her, this was more than a tour, it was visiting a place that had once held such happiness and now held only pain.

The-Oldest loved being in the grand hall. It gave him a feeling of what success looks like. Being on that stage. Having someone play his compositions. Having perfect and I mean perfect acoustics. Having a crowd listen in quiet awe. Then, having their applause fill the room like thunder.

The-Oldest found signed pictures of some of his favourite pianists, composers and musical icons. Yehudi Menuhin. Shostakovich. Louie Armstrong. Leonard Bernstein. There were signed music sheets, autographed posters, handwritten notes all preserved behind glass in picture frames. I think The-Oldest could have spent hours there.

I think The Youngest was a little awed by the stunning acoustics of the hall. We could hear the other guide on the far side of the hall as clearly as if we were standing beside her.

For The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World, she loved hearing about the man who made the hall: Carnegie. He not only built this epic hall, he believed in libraries having been brought out of poverty by learning to read in one. He went on to build 2500 libraries in the US and around the world. His goal in his later life was to give away all that he had earned, giving back to New York, its culture and its community.

I don’t know what kind of guy he was getting to be rich, but what he did with his wealth was admirable.

Sadly, I failed as picture taker. I got so caught up in the stories, that I only took a few and of those few, none were really instragramable.

***I hang my head in shame***

My cousin was brave, though, and enjoyed the tour, especially at the end where we went to the lounge area where there were posters and news articles and records and all sorts of memorabilia. Her and her mom had been in the room a hundred times, but for the first time, she wandered with us to read everything, like a tourist.

After the tour, we headed towards our host’s favourite hamburger spot. Ok, to be fair, she gave us a ton of choices, but I stopped hearing after she said “hamburger joint.” As we strode purposely towards our foodie goal, who should hail us but Jeffery, our guide!

So, we walked with him to his subway stop while talking all about New York. I think the boys just wanted a good burger, but I wanted to hear about that tall building and what was that over there, and who built that building and what was that smell?

He was so incredibly knowledgeable. I swear, for the 4 blocks we walked with him, he knew everything about every building.

Had I lived in NY, he would have become my new best friend. I would have given him a nickname like Jeff-Jeff and we would have gone for coffee every Monday and talked about history and architecture and how the world had changed and giggled like little girls.

When we parted ways, we made the mad choice to walk to the restaurant and see more of Manhattan. It was a great but utterly exhausting choice. (At the end of the NY blogs, I’ll post a picture of a map of where we went.)

Don’t get me wrong, I loved the walk. New York is a walking city. It was just that by the time we got to the restaurant, we all looked like we could have slept in the booth. Or under it.

And there was still so much more we planned to do.