Day two. Continued.

After leaving the zoo, I headed to walk through Central Park towards another famous spot:

I think many of you have seen this place and heard this story. The famous dog Balto, whose heroism dates back to the early 20th century, when he saved an entire city from an epidemic with his bravery, even though he wasn't technically a sled dog.

After that, I wanted to arrive at Times Square again. I hadn't been there in a long time. A funny situation happened on the way. While looking at an ad for the musical "Doctor Zhivago" on Broadway, I saw a strange crowd around the corner. I decided to check it out. It turned out that David Letterman was hosting his final Late Show and had invited the coolest guests during that time. And right now, one of them was supposed to come out. I Googled it, and it turned out to be Tom Hanks. Can you believe it, damn it?! Tom Hanks! One of my favorite actors. Well, of course, I stayed to wait. We waited for about 30 minutes. Well, to be precise, I waited that long. My friends waited longer. Everyone hoped he would come out and give autographs. Yeah, right. He came out, waved his hand, got into a car, and drove off. I didn't even have time to take a photo. Well, 3 seconds of seeing him is enough for me.

And returning to Times Square wasn't anything supernatural. Well, except for that Argentine girl. I wandered around the shops, sat down. That's it. It was funny for me to watch this guy: "He was taking photos, taking photos, and then got all sad."

And in general, it's funny to watch them, how they scam tourists. Asians take a photo of their family with them, and they run up and demand: "I'm scrolling through all the photos! I'll count how many there are." And you have to pay for each one, you know. Everyone is hustling as they can, I understand, but this, comrades, is a disaster.

By the way, I was at the "Friends fountain" in Central Park, the one from the intro of the series, and realized that it's all a PR move by local guides. It's not that fountain at all. Neither the surroundings nor the fountain itself look like it. They say the real fountain is in LA. I don't know.

And one more thing. I really want to share a shot from that day. It's kind of "Love is in the air".

Day three. There and back.

Honestly, I didn't know where to go anymore. I didn't want to make big plans, and I had already run around almost everywhere for small things. Although at the beginning of the day there was an idea to go to Wall Street, and then I decided: "let it go with the flow".

Wall Street is definitely the place that anyone who is going to connect their life with finance or business should visit. Why? Because once you are in the middle of the financial district, you realize that almost all the money in this world is moving around you right now. And with your whole body, you want to be part of this scheme. The financial district itself is closed to car traffic and consists only of tourists and businessmen with coffee, Asians and Europeans, or solid people in suits. Or just ordinary ones in trousers, shirts, and sneakers. That's normal here too.

Of course, once you are here, you need to find that very bull, which supposedly has magical "organs". Touch them and you will become rich. You can't imagine what is happening around it: both at the muzzle and at the back. Dozens of Europeans and Asians push each other to take a photo with it.

From there, I headed to the 9/11 memorial, which I had also wanted to visit for a long time, as I had been very puzzled by this tragedy since my early youth. Here, of course, you cannot remain indifferent. Approaching from the eastern side of Manhattan, you will first come across the fire department, on the corner of which is a heartbreaking wall reflecting the memory of the fallen police officers, rescuers, firefighters, etc.

And next to the wall is a corresponding stand with photos of 343 heroes who gave their lives to save others.

And besides that, there are several more walls with touching quotes. Around the corner is the entrance to the fire station, as well as a small 9/11 museum, where all those who were there share their story.

And it's enough to cross the road to end up at this huge structure with all about 2,500 names of civilians. And feel the full scale of the tragedy.

This square is truly huge, and it even gets a bit creepy next to it.

And nearby now, accordingly, is the new World Trade Center, which replaces the twins and looks much more massive and beautiful.

I headed to the Empire State Building, where I went by subway. I had dreamed of getting there for a long time, but I was afraid of the queues, which, as it turned out, move very quickly, thanks to the well-coordinated actions of the workers. The whole pleasure costs $32, but believe me - it's worth it. You can go to the very top. It's 16 floors higher than the regular deck, but you'll have to pay more than twice as much.

After a long queue, they lead you to an inspection, like at the airport: metal detectors, X-rays, everything as it should be, but after the 9/11 memorial, I'm ready for anything, to be honest.

After that, you will be led further, where they will give you headphones and a touch device that allows you to watch and listen to various stories about how the building was conceived and built, and there is also some entertainment. Not a bad idea. Some places in the building even have special number signs. You approach, and on the device, you tap this number. A small thing, but nice.

You go up to the 80th floor, where they also tell the history and cultural contribution to cinema and the like (hello King Kong). Well, and then the 86th floor, where you can just go crazy. Why? See for yourself:

Everything is clear, right?

And so I stood and looked at each side for 10-15 minutes. I was ready to stand like that forever. It's madness. I don't even want to say anything. Everything is already clear. After wandering around a bit more and trying to catch Bill Murray, like Hanks yesterday, I went home. That, actually, is the end of my New York. Well, for now. At night, I got into a taxi and went to the airport. I took a "Chaika" taxi. And again I felt at home. A Russian driver, Russian music in the car. And the prices of this taxi are different from American cabs.

And I also messed up a bit and arrived at the wrong terminal. I waited for 40 minutes for an internal bus at the airport, and then I rushed through 2 terminals in 5 minutes, probably. I felt like Flash.

In conclusion about New York.

I am a fan of Sting and have always dreamed of paraphrasing his legendary song:

I'm an alien I'm a legal alien

I'm an Uzbekman in New York