New York

New York is the vertical city where every street is a stage and every corner changes language. Everything has been said about her and all of it falls short: eight million lives stacked into five boroughs, a central park that is the most famous lung on the planet, and a grid so honest that knowing how to count is enough to never get lost — streets cross, avenues climb, Broadway disobeys.

The sensible traveller walks: the High Line to the south, Central Park to the north, and between them the Museum Mile — the Met demands its own full day. Cross the Brooklyn Bridge on foot at dawn, take the free Staten Island ferry to greet Liberty without a line, and split the nights between Broadway — with its ticket lotteries — and the basement jazz of the Village.

The Guide's honesty: the subway runs all night and is the only sensible carriage — a rush-hour taxi is a museum of traffic lights —; the tip is not optional: twenty percent or a misunderstanding; and Times Square is visited like the dentist: once, quickly, with your pockets closed. The real city is one avenue over.