My first visit to New York twelve years ago left me hot and bothered.
I enjoyed visiting Ellis Island, in New York Harbor. Described as "the nation's busiest immigrant inspection station for over 60 years from 1892 until 1954", the main building – built in 1900 – is now a fascinating immigration museum.
Other landmarks – the Empire State Building, for example – left me a little cold. Even the view from the observation gallery on the 86th floor couldn't make up for the fact that it seemed of secondary importance to the gift shop.
My bête noire was the traditional yellow taxi. However large they appeared from the outside, inside they felt intimidatingly dark and cramped. It didn't help that passengers were separated from the driver by what appeared to be a thick bullet-proof shield or that the drivers – even if they spoke English – were largely monosyllabic.
The biggest problem however was the heat. I went there in July and it was like being in a blast furnace. When I wandered into Central Park there was almost no-one there. It was too damn hot.
Instead there was a notice explaining that the open air theatre (similar to the one in London's Regent Park) would be closed for the summer because of the temperature and humidity.
I vowed that if I returned it would be in the spring or autumn. Hence last week's visit – in August.
Thankfully the weather was warm but not excessively hot, and far less humid. Instead we got a mixture of sun, cloud and the occasional shower. As a result:
We spent an afternoon in Central Park without being burned alive.
We navigated the High Line, a 1.5 mile urban park developed on an elevated section of a disused railroad.
We comfortably walked 20 blocks at a time without undue discomfort.
And we were able to eat al fresco, most notably on a superb rooftop terrace in the up-and-coming Meatpackaging District. (That was before we moved to ground level for dessert at the aptly named Sugar Factory.)
The yellow taxicabs (and their drivers) were as bad as ever but help is at hand – Uber! Yes, I lost my Uber virginity in New York and I think I'm smitten.
We stayed in two hotels – the Hilton Millennium in Downtown Manhattan, and the Renwick Hotel, close to Grand Central Station in Midtown Manhattan.
The latter was far more to our taste (we were in a loft style room on the eleventh of 17 floors) but the view from our room at the Hilton was extraordinary.
Not only was it on the 52nd floor, it overlooked Ground Zero and the new Freedom Tower (aka One World Trade Center), "the tallest tower in the Western hemisphere".
It's impossible, of course, to visit the US at the moment and not mention the President, so here are my Trump tales.
In Halifax, Nova Scotia, I got talking to an American from Indiana who was on another ship. He seemed certain the US was about to go to war with North Korea but praised Trump for standing up to the "little fat man" as he called Kim Jong-un.
Indiana, I was led to believe, has plenty of underground bunkers in case of a nuclear strike. Whether this is true I've no idea, but when he asked me where I was from and I replied, "the UK", he was quizzical. "UK? Is that Ukraine?" Make of that what you will.
The next American I spoke to was a porter at the New York cruise port. He looked and sounded just like Sylvester Stallone and his first question was not "Can I carry your luggage for a large tip?" but "What do you think of Donald Trump?"
Before I had a chance to respond he was impressing on me just how much he supported the president.
Of course there were others, notably the lady on an adjacent table at a posh Mexican restaurant who chose, unsolicited, to apologise to me – a complete stranger – for America's choice of president, but the message I took home was that support for Trump from white, blue collar workers and Southern conservatives remains strong.
By coincidence, when we left Central Park it was late afternoon and we were one block down from Trump Tower, which overlooks the park.
Trump was travelling to New York that very evening and protesters were already gathering on 5th Avenue awaiting his arrival. The police were there too and they were controlling the traffic and restricting access to streets and sidewalks.
Suddenly we found ourselves trapped and had to take refuge (I kid you not) in the flagship store of Tiffany & Co, the world famous jewellers.
It was almost as if my wife planned it.
Above: view from our 52nd floor room at the Hilton Millennium Hotel in Downtown Manhattan. Below: the Freedom Tower (centre).
