On our last full day in New York, we were reminded of an important truth: it is impossible to do everything in this city in a single visit. There were still so many things left undone — Broadway shows, nightclubs, Coney Island, Governors Island, the Cloisters, the Frick Collection, Ellis Island, the Museum of Modern art, St Patrick’s cathedral.. New York leaves you with unfinished business, and perhaps that is part of its magic.
But there was one thing we absolutely could not miss: perhaps the greatest art museum in the world, the Metropolitan Museum of Art — “The Met.”
To reach it, we enjoyed a wonderful walk through Central Park. It is interesting to remember that Central Park was itself a great civic creation of the 19th century, designed when New York decided it deserved a grand urban park to rival those of London and Paris. Before its creation the land included Indian settlements such as Seneca Village, whose residents were displaced to make way for the project — a reminder that even beautiful things can emerge from complicated histories.
Whatever its origins, the park today is magnificent. I remembered visiting it back in 1970, when parts of it felt rather tired and neglected. Today it looks beautifully restored and alive with energy.

As we crossed it, we encountered musicians, performers, walkers, lots of dogs (with their owners) and New Yorkers of every kind, all contributing to that uniquely vibrant atmosphere. Near the museum entrance stands New York’s own “Cleopatra’s Needle,” the ancient Egyptian obelisk that seems somehow perfectly at home amid the trees and skyscrapers.

And then we entered the Met itself.
We began in the classical galleries, astonished by the quality of the Cycladic, Minoan, and Cretan figures. Yet our real destination was the magnificent Temple of Dendur, gifted by Egypt to the United States in gratitude for American assistance in saving ancient monuments threatened by the construction of the Aswan High Dam. The temple stands inside an immense glass hall beside a reflecting pool suggestive of the Nile, and the effect is unforgettable.

The Met building itself is equally remarkable — vast, elegant, and wonderfully eclectic in style. But what struck us most was the sense of space. Unlike some museums where masterpieces feel crowded together, the Met allows works room to breathe. You can stand quietly before great art and properly absorb it.
The Egyptian collections were superb, but eventually we moved on to the European paintings. Of course, the museum contains infinitely more than one could possibly see in a day — armour, African art, American collections, decorative arts — but we realised we had to focus our attention.
And for me, that meant Vermeer.
America possesses an extraordinary number of paintings by Johannes Vermeer — nearly half of his surviving works — and five of them are in the Met itself.

It seems remarkable, but the explanation lies in history: during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, European aristocratic families were often forced to sell treasures just as American wealth was rapidly expanding. At the same time, New York was determined to establish itself as one of the world’s great cultural capitals. The result was that masterpieces crossed the Atlantic in huge numbers.
The Vermeers were breathtaking. Yet it was not merely the range of the collection that impressed us, but the consistency of its quality. Again and again, room after room, we encountered masterpieces: Rembrandt, the Italian Renaissance masters, even fabulous Turners and Constables, French neoclassicism, and Rembrandt’s unforgettable Aristotle with a nust of Homer, glowing with depth and intelligence.

We wandered on into the Impressionists, where delight followed delight. One especially charming painting by Renoir showed a family of musical girls gathered around violin and piano — domestic happiness transformed into art and a masterpiece at that.

Eventually, however, reality intruded. We had to begin preparing for our journey home. We returned across the city and settled one last time into our favourite café, Bread’s Bakery, where we enjoyed excellent coffee, fine bagels, cheesecake, and pastries. We also sensibly bought provisions for our flight home with Icelandair, knowing that our budget economy tickets would provide coffee and water, but not much else in the way of food.
And as we sat there, preparing to leave, both Sandra and I reflected on what an extraordinary experience New York had been.

What struck us most was how completely the city shattered so many preconceptions. One grows up with images of New York as hard-edged, dangerous, perhaps even dominated by the gang mythology of films such as West Side Story. Certainly one must exercise common sense, as in any great city, but the reality we encountered was entirely different.
Again and again we found warmth.
People spoke to us naturally and openly. Conversations emerged in parks, on buses, in cafés, and on street corners. Whenever we looked lost, somebody stepped forward to help us. The city may be famous as the “city that never sleeps,” a place associated with business, ambition, and relentless movement, but beneath that surface we found enormous humanity.
We were also struck by the remarkable sense of integration. New York is a city of many ethnicities, cultures, and backgrounds, yet we sensed a shared belonging, a feeling that people simply accepted one another as fellow New Yorkers. We found that deeply refreshing.
Even the bus drivers became memorable figures to us — commanding their vehicles with authority, firmly organising passengers, ensuring disabled travellers were accommodated properly, and somehow maintaining order amid the endless movement of the city.
There were still so many things we never managed to do. We never went to the top of Top of the Rock at Rockefeller Center. In the end we decided we were quite happy to save the ninety dollars or so for the tickets. After all, we had already experienced magnificent views of New York from the Staten Island Ferry, from the Brooklyn Bridge, and finally from the air itself as we departed.
And perhaps that decision captured something essential about New York. It is undoubtedly a city built on money, industry, ambition, and towering commercial power. Its skyscrapers seem almost to stretch endlessly upward in pursuit of success. Yet despite all that, we felt that New York possessed something profoundly human — a genuine heart.
That is what we shall remember most.
New York was energetic, cultured, overwhelming, chaotic, ambitious, and astonishingly alive. But above all, it was kind.
And so we left it not feeling finished with the city, but longing to return…as I have done since that journey in much younger days……