I didn’t ❤️ New York
I’ve been to big cities before. Lima. Paris. Casablanca. I can handle crowds. Or at least, I thought I could. Then I planned a trip to New York City in early December with my sister Laurie.
When European Christmas market cruises came with sticker shock and a self-guided train trip felt too complicated to plan, New York seemed like the easiest option. I’m a Christmas enthusiast with multiple themed trees and a decades-long ornament collection, so I figured I’d still find plenty of holiday atmosphere.
Back in 2017, my husband and I visited Europe, and Strasbourg, France was our last stop in early November. The Christmas markets were just beginning to take shape, and I was mesmerized. Glass ornaments, sparkly and slightly off kilter, exactly the kind I’d been collecting for more than half my life.
At home, I have several themed trees: Snowflakes and Frosty the Snowman, a Honeybee tree, Sea Creatures, Birds, Bugs, and one large Everything tree, though I wouldn’t mind adding a couple more. That first glimpse of the Strasbourg market planted a seed.
Fast forward to this year, when my sister and I decided it was finally time to do something like that ourselves. A European Christmas market cruise sounded perfect until we looked at the cost of single-occupancy cabins, then the added fees, then the airfare, and finally what we’d have left to actually spend. The math did not work.
We briefly considered a self-guided train trip but waited too long to plan it. So we landed on New York City. I’d never been there, we had relatives in the area, and it felt like a reasonable alternative.
We started planning in September for a December 4–9 trip. The Rockefeller Center tree lighting was scheduled for December 3, which meant we’d arrive just as the season officially kicked off. We found a workable flight and, after a lot of searching, a hotel in Hell’s Kitchen close to where we wanted to be.
Then came the planning. My list was ambitious: the Rockefeller tree, the Rockettes, a bus tour, holiday markets, a museum or two, shopping, Central Park. We coordinated with relatives and sketched out a loose itinerary. I also made a bold decision for me: for the first time in five years, I wouldn’t work during vacation. We checked bags so we’d have room for whatever treasures we might bring home.
Then came a complication. The federal government shut down from October 1 to November 12, 2025, and air travel became unpredictable. Our original hotel’s cancellation deadline was November 12, which meant that by early November, we had to decide whether to gamble or change plans.
If flights were still tangled up, we risked losing the reservation entirely. So we made a cautious decision and rebooked at Radio City Apartments, which offered a 48-hour cancellation window.
The trade-off was cost. It was significantly more expensive, but it put us close to Rockefeller Center and Radio City Music Hall. At that point, finding a hotel with two beds in that area, that late in the year, wasn’t exactly a buyer’s market. We paid for convenience and location and hoped it would be worth it.
The day we left SeaTac was easy, thanks to TSA PreCheck. The flight itself was uneventful, aside from slightly tipsy seatmates. We landed at JFK, found our bags without trouble, and located the rideshare shuttle without drama. It was cold and windy when we stepped out that night.
The drive in was long, and the streets near our hotel were already packed. Catching a glimpse of Times Square as we passed made it clear how busy this area would be. I expected crowds, but not quite like this, and not this late on a Thursday night.
We arrived at Radio City Apartments, checked in easily, and waited for the slow, old elevator. Our room was small but comfortable, with rock-hard beds and very enthusiastic central heating. Thankfully, the windows opened.
Around 10 pm, we headed back out to find food. We wandered through the 24-degree air, took a few photos, and eventually landed at Sean’s Bar and Kitchen, the only place nearby without a line. There were plenty of tempting food stalls, but as my sister put it, “eating outside at 24 degrees is problematic. You don’t really want to sit outside, and eating with your gloves on is messy.”
So, our first New York meal was pepperoni pizza just before 11 pm. We made it back to the hotel around and promptly collapsed.
We slept in on Friday and then headed out to tackle Rockefeller Center and a little shopping. After a quick coffee at a local shop next door, we stepped straight into the madness. So. Many. People. The temperature hovered between 20 and 32 degrees, with snow threatening off and on. NYPD officers were everywhere, and several surrounding streets were blocked off. We took our tree photos, then went down a level to watch the ice skaters for a bit.
Lunch at Five Acres at Rockefeller Center was excellent. Back on the street, Tiffany’s had beautiful ornaments that were, tragically, not for sale. Another store had a few tempting options, and I picked up a yellow cab ornament along with a shrimp for my Sea Creature tree. We also stopped at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, where I lit a candle for my 95-year-old father-in-law.
Next came the Saks holiday windows and then the Christmas market at Bryant Park. This was where my tolerance for crowds officially ran out. The space was so packed that moving required constant contact, and I reached my limit. The market itself wasn’t what I’d hoped for either. Compared to Strasbourg, it felt less like a Christmas village and more like a collection of crafty booths. I tried to rally, but internally I was done.
We grabbed a quick snack at Le Pain Quotidien before stopping to look at the Macy’s holiday windows and picking up a few things my sister needed, then we walked back to the hotel through Times Square, which I’d been curious to see.
After a short rest, we had an excellent dinner at Pasta Lovers, conveniently connected to our hotel. Later that evening, we returned to Rockefeller Center to photograph the tree at night and watch the Saks light show. Very pretty.
On Saturday, we took an Uber to my cousin Dana’s apartment for brunch. Dana is a longtime New Yorker who lives on the Upper East Side. My other cousin, Dylan, joined us as well. She recently moved to the city after college for a finance job and now lives with a roommate in Hell’s Kitchen. As we drove along Central Park West, I caught my first glimpse of the park and passed the Dakota, where John Lennon was killed.
After brunch, they put me on my first subway ride and took us to Greenwich Village for a guided wander. We saw Washington Square Park, yes, the one from When Harry Met Sally, along with Dylan’s favorite bookstore and a local bakery. After a quick snack, they headed off to walk the High Line, an elevated park on the West Side. I peeled off early to rest. Those hotel beds were not doing my sleep schedule any favors.
That evening, my sister asked me to choose a restaurant, so I picked Benny John’s Bar and Grill just past Rockefeller Center. What we didn’t realize was that our reservation time lined up perfectly with the nightly Rockefeller Center chaos. Streets were closed and packed shoulder to shoulder. Some people were trying to move through like we were. Others were standing still, waiting for something, presumably the tree to do a trick.
We got stuck directly in front of the Today Show studio, completely unable to move. You know the spot where people wave at the camera from the street. I’m tall, so I managed, but I felt for the shorter people caught in that crush. We finally escaped by following a man using his double stroller like a battering ram and made our reservation with seconds to spare. We took a very different route back to the hotel afterward and called it a night.
I didn’t sleep again, so the next day I sent my sister off to The Met to meet up with Dana for lunch while I tried to recover. After a few more hours of sleep, I ventured out in search of food.
That old, slow elevator stopped on every single floor on the way down. No one got on or off. Another tourist and I exchanged a look and silently agreed it had to be the ghost of a Rockette, high kicking every button just to mess with us.
It was warmer outside, so I wandered the neighborhood and landed at a local pizza place. Without thinking, I ordered two slices. Back in my room, I opened the box to find the largest, thickest slices I’d ever seen. Sicilian pizza, as it turns out. It was honestly the best pizza I’ve ever had, and I managed exactly one piece.
My sister returned for a quick rest, then we changed clothes and headed to Radio City Music Hall for the Rockettes Christmas show. The show was fantastic. High kicks, holiday traditions, Christmas carols, stunning sets, shiny costumes, and even Santa. They also included a living nativity with real animals, which raised some ethical questions for me, mainly where one houses a camel in New York City. Watching the Rockettes and the rest of the cast beam through every number, I suddenly understood where all the theater kids from my high school had ended up. We returned to the hotel afterward and finally got some decent sleep.
Our last day was freezing and windy, but we decided to do a hop on, hop off bus tour anyway. Our first stop was the Tenement Museum on the Lower East Side. Instead of glass cases and plaques, you step into the former homes of immigrant, migrant, and refugee families. We learned about German immigrants John and Caroline Schneider, who ran Schneider’s Lager Beer Saloon from 1864 to 1886. It’s a fascinating place, especially if traditional museums aren’t your thing.
We walked through Chinatown and grabbed lunch in Little Italy before heading back to the bus. For the next stretch, we sat on the top level, which is when we realized we had made a tactical error. It was brutally cold. I saw the World Trade Center, St. Paul’s Chapel, Wall Street, and the Bull. I tried to appreciate it all. I really did. But somewhere along the Hudson River, I gave up pretending and just hunched there, teeth chattering. And I say that as someone who actually likes the cold.
We ended the night at Pasta Lovers again, which was just as good the second time. Then we packed it in early to get ready for our flight home.
So, there we have it. Five days in New York City. We saw Rockefeller Center, the Rockettes, Bryant Park’s Christmas Market, Greenwich Village, the Tenement Museum, and more holiday windows than I can count. We ate pizza, pasta, and brunch. We rode subways, buses, and taxis.
I’m glad I went. New York City is fascinating, full of energy, history, and people who clearly know how to live at full volume. But will I go back? Probably not. I’ve heard they expect a million people in Times Square on New Year’s Eve, and I’m fairly certain I would lose my mind. It’s just not how I’m built.
These days, I’m most at home in the quiet of the Snoqualmie Valley. Maybe that makes me boring. Maybe it means I’m getting older. But after five days of being pressed shoulder to shoulder with the world, I was reminded that I’m a small-town person at heart. And honestly, I’m okay with that.
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Happy travels, Snoqualmie Valley!
