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“New New, New York”, a woman standing next to me at the airport newsstand was humming. Not all cities get songs created for them – just the great ones.

I’ve been having a love affair with NYC this week. I admit it. I’ve been romanticizing the warts and celebrating the wonders of the city’s architecture, clothing boutiques, eateries and human verve.

It was a slight jolt this morning to traverse from the chic of East Village Manhattan to the mundanity of Queens for our ride to LaGuardia. Just one borough heartbeat from the vibrancy of NY, commuters looked less fair, more drained and certainly less fashionable than their urbane neighbors.

One of the highlights of our touring here was a visit to Highline. It’s an innovative attraction that was created out of an old elevated train line. Imagine making parkland out of something a little wider than double train tracks (the iron rails peeking through vegetation) and kilometers long. Waste not, want not, our grannies said and now wise city fathers have invented a real estate Renaissance for West Siders out of a white elephant.

I feel sad to leave NY, but better to have had a glass of fine wine than the whole bottle. I’ll be back, not the least for the quality yoga teaching at the Iyengar Institute.