Back in 1801, a New York physician named David Hosack bought 22 acres of empty land from the city with an aim to establish America’s first botanical garden. And for the next ten years, the Elgin Botanic Garden really did bloom—until funding wilted, the plants went wild, and Columbia University had to step in to take over the property in 1823.

Fast-forward a century to 1926, when the Metropolitan Opera went searching for a grand new home. Columbia leased the land to its generous patron, John D. Rockefeller, Jr., setting the stage for a glittering cultural palace. Then the stock market crashed in 1929, the opera backed out, and Rockefeller found himself with prime New York real estate and no tenant. So, he pivoted—and decided to build a mass-media powerhouse instead.

In 1930, after months of negotiations involving Radio Corporation of America, National Broadcasting Company, and Radio-Keith-Orpheum, the plan was set: an entertainment complex of unprecedented scale. To make room, 228 buildings were cleared and 4,000 tenants relocated. Early name ideas included “Radio City,” “Rockefeller City,” and the dramatic “Metropolitan Square,” before the now-famous title finally stuck.

Today, Rockefeller Center stretches across all of Doctor Hosack’s original 22 acres—though the botanicals have long been replaced with 14 Art Deco buildings, a standalone tower along 51st Street, and four more rising on the west side of Sixth Avenue. There are rooftop gardens, but you’ll have to crane your neck to see anything green.

On the west side sits Radio City Music Hall, still flashing its neon glamour. And at the heart of it all lies the sunken Lower Plaza, praised by Chinese-American architect Ieoh Ming Pei as “the most successful open space in the United States, perhaps in the world.” Most visitors simply know it as “the place with the ice rink,” which has been delighting skaters since 1936.

Then there’s the view. “Top of the Rock” offers three levels of indoor and outdoor decks with clear, cinematic vistas of the New York skyline. Back on the ground, the shops spread out in every direction—big names, small designers, and everything in between. It’s the kind of place where you realize: shopping isn’t just about what you buy; it’s about where you buy it...

It may well be puzzling as to why New Yorkers use the terms “Grand Central Terminal” and “Grand Central Station” as if they’re the same thing... Here’s the secret: one is the rail terminal, the other is the post office attached to it, and the whole complex is busy enough that no one pauses to sort out the terminology.

The place's story began with Cornelius Vanderbilt, the 19th-century business titan, who collected railroads the way others collect postcards. After buying the Hudson River and New York Central lines in 1867, he fused them together and launched the construction of Grand Central Depot two years later.

The original depot, designed by architect John B. Snook, arrived in full Second Empire style—mansard roofs, ornate flourishes, and the confidence of a building that knew it had somewhere important to be. By 1874, it was ready for service. Trains glided into the Park Avenue Tunnel at 96th Street, slipping underground for the final approach. This solved the small problem of locomotives barreling down Manhattan streets, which city residents understandably found less than charming.

Then came 1902. A steam locomotive, blinded by smoke in the Park Avenue Tunnel, missed its signals and collided with another train. The crash sealed the depot’s fate. Within a few years, it was demolished, making way for the Grand Central Terminal we know today. The firms Reed & Stern and Warren & Wetmore teamed up to create the Beaux-Arts landmark—one focused on the functional layout, the other on the dramatic exterior.

Inside, the terminal doubled as an art gallery long before that was fashionable. The Main Concourse ceiling famously charts a glowing, backwards zodiac. The façade features the Glory of Commerce sculpture, a bronze statue of Vanderbilt stands guard out front, and cast-iron eagles keep watch over the whole scene.

Vanderbilt Hall regularly hosts exhibitions and seasonal events, while the Dining Concourse adds its own glow with rows of illuminated lightboxes. And every so often, the terminal surprises commuters with performance art—from choreographed flash mobs to unexpected installations—turning an everyday commute into something slightly cinematic.

Meet the undisputed champion of New York’s Art Deco era: the Empire State Building, a 102-story giant that rises over 1,450 feet above Midtown’s daily hustle. It once ruled as the tallest building on Earth; today it’s still impressive enough to hold a lineup of titles—seventh-tallest in New York, ninth in the United States, and still one of the tallest freestanding structures anywhere in the Americas.

Its name comes straight from New York’s proud nickname, the “Empire State,” and its streamlined design was the work of the Shreve, Lamb & Harmon architectural firm. Construction began in 1930, wrapped up just a year later, and replaced the former Waldorf-Astoria Hotel that once stood on the same block. From the start, the goal was simple: to build the biggest, boldest skyscraper the world had ever seen.

You’ll find this landmark in Midtown South, planted along Fifth Avenue between 34th and 35th Streets. Three observatories—on the 80th, 86th, and 102nd floors—offer wraparound views that make the city look like an architectural toy box. And thanks to its starring role in more than 250 films and TV shows, beginning with King Kong in 1933, the building’s Hollywood résumé is nearly as tall as the tower itself.

The exterior keeps things classic: Indiana limestone, granite, and clean geometric ornamentation that embodies Art Deco style without telling a story in symbols. The main entrance features metal doors framed by sleek vertical piers topped with sculpted eagles, along with a gold-lettered transom that proudly spells out the building’s name.

In recognition of its cultural and architectural significance, the Empire State Building was declared a New York City Landmark in 1980 and added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1986. Today, it remains one of Manhattan’s most enduring icons—an unmistakable marker on the skyline and an essential stop for anyone wanting to feel the full vertical spirit of New York.

Long before Manhattan’s tidy street plan straightened everything out, Broadway, unlike other streets in New York, followed an older native pathway, wandering freely up the island. This is why it slices across Seventh Avenue and 42nd Street, forming two triangular pockets, like a bow tie. The southern one is called Times Square, while the northern, Duffy Square, is named for World War I chaplain Father Francis P. Duffy, whose statue now watches over the crowds with admirable patience.

The stretch of Broadway from 41st to 53rd Streets goes by a different name: the Great White Way. That nickname wasn’t poetic exaggeration—those glowing billboards, marquees, and oversized posters once made the area one of the brightest electrified spots on Earth. Today, it’s still blazing away with advertisements for Broadway’s latest musicals and plays, pulling in nearly 50 million visitors a year. That’s roughly 330,000 people a day, all weaving through the lights, noise, and spectacle in search of something unforgettable.

Before it was Times Square, this chaotic crossroads answered to the far calmer name of Longacre Square. Everything changed in 1904, when New York Times publisher Adolph S. Ochs moved his newspaper into the brand-new Times Building—now known as One Times Square—and happily lent his name to the neighborhood. The Times moved out within a decade, but not before launching a little tradition in 1907: the New Year’s Eve Ball Drop. A century later, the glittering descent still draws over a million people every year, along with countless viewers around the world.

Today, Times Square is a fluorescent buffet of attractions—ABC’s Times Square Studios, Planet Hollywood, Bubba Gump Shrimp Company, and whichever character impersonator is bravest that day. The towering illuminated signs, nicknamed “spectaculars” or “jumbotrons,” compete with the neon bravado of Las Vegas and often win.

Amid all that glow, shoppers duck into stores like Gap, Old Navy, Forever 21, Levi’s, the Disney Store, Hershey’s Chocolate World, and M&M’s World—each one flashing its own brand of temptation. Whether you’re hunting for a souvenir, a show, or just a moment to stand still and stare, this Midtown crossroads remains New York at its most unfiltered and unmistakable.

Trying to follow Broadway back to its beginnings, you’d find yourself tracing a much older path: the Wickquasgeck Trail, a route carved into Manhattan in the times of New Amsterdam, long before New York dreamed of skyscrapers or neon marquees... That trail stretched up the island like a wandering spine, and when the Dutch arrived, they simply widened it and gave it a new name: Heeren (or “Gentlemen’s”) Way. The British, who arrived later, noticing how wide the street really was, promptly declared it Broadway—a name that clearly stuck.

Today’s Broadway runs a lot farther than its original ancestor. It launches from Bowling Green at Manhattan’s southern tip, slips through the boroughs, wanders into Westchester County, and keeps going until it reaches Sleepy Hollow. If you’re searching for New York’s oldest continuous street, this is the one.

Jump to 1907, when part of Broadway—stretching from Times Square to Sherman Square—earned a new identity as Automobile Row. Car dealerships, repair shops, and glittering showrooms lined both sides, turning the street into a motor-age catwalk. Over time, the traffic patterns tightened, and Broadway became mainly a one-way river of cars.

In recent decades, though, the city has rewritten Broadway’s script. Cars have gradually ceded space to people, and sections of the street have transformed into pedestrian plazas, pocket parks, and bike lanes. Times Square, Duffy Square, and Herald Square traded honking horns for café tables and performers in painted outfits. Even Madison and Union Square saw Broadway narrow to make room for walkers instead of windshields.

At the southern end, near Bowling Green and City Hall Park, Lower Broadway still plays host to the city’s legendary ticker-tape parades—snowstorms of paper drifting from office towers as heroes of every kind roll past. These days, it’s more shredded confetti and fewer actual tickers, but the “Canyon of Heroes” effect remains.

And then there’s the stretch that needs no introduction: The Great White Way, a phrase coined in 1901 to describe Broadway’s theater district. Between 42nd and 53rd Streets, the lights burn bright, the marquees compete for your attention, and the plays and musicals rewrite themselves nightly through applause.

From colonial trail to cultural artery, Broadway carries centuries of stories—and somehow still finds room for more...