An unchanged 1940s lounge known for its masterpiece Martinis and whimsical murals painted by the author of “Madeline,” Ludwig Bemelmans.

Tucked away on the second floor, it’s easy to forget you’re in the middle of Manhattan. Order the Ika geso (squid legs) and the nankotsu (chicken cartilage), my personal favorites. You might notice people waiting around a nondescript door inside the restaurant; this is actually the entrance to the speakeasy bar Angel’s Share.

Good vibes bar with some of the best food-next-to-your-drink in the city.

Always beautifully curated shows in a whitewashed space. The work is juxtaposed with the bustling China Town backdrop, adding a dose of life and grit compared to the other often hyper sterile art spaces around the world.

I have old friends in San Francisco who grudgingly tell me that the High Line is everything that's wrong with New York. Well, too bad. To me, it embodies a culture that's constantly reinventing itself: a defunct elevated railway that was becoming a burden to the city ("we used to climb up there to throw garbage bags full of rotting Korean food at the Hasids!", noted a successful photographer's assistant) becoming a startling example of urban greening for the public good. The expert landscaping makes it feel like walking on a Montauk beach - but a stone's throw from some of New York's most progressive galleries and hotels.