Sometimes I feel like I'm in an International Barbie House at the Pink Hostel. There's just...so much pink. I guess it was to be expected but I have to marvel at a group of people who choose to paint pipes 11 feet off the ground pink.

It's raining today and we're planning to take the Staten Island Ferry to see the Statue of Liberty before we comb Canal Street and Chinatown. We're also planning to check out Bryant Park because a woman at the hostel told us there'd be vendors, Christmas lights, and marble toilets.

I'm on the 3 train writing this, winding fast through dark tunnels to the sound of grinding metal. The only place I don't have cell service is down here under the city. It's such a shock to come out of the train and see New York in constant motion. Despite the speed of the train, things seem still down here. Like a black and white picture. Still. And smelly.