This was the morning of February 19th — the second day of my classes.
I arrived a little early, hoping to ease into the day, and ended up chatting with people from different groups.
My class level was intermediate, but I talked with those from higher levels too. Their smooth, effortless English and the variety of expressions they used were truly inspiring. It made me realize how far I still have to go, but at the same time, it fired me up.

I took this picture from the lounge where we were talking.
Looking out, I could see Times Square right nearby — so many colorful digital ads filling the view.
Most likely, this area is exactly where the “must-have flashy signage” regulation applies.
It made me think again about how the city itself is designed to be lively and energetic, just like its people.

For a brief moment before class, surrounded by casual conversations and this vibrant view, I felt like I was blending into the rhythm of New York life.

I found this simple NYC logo painted on the wall.
It wasn’t anything special, but it somehow made me pause. “Yeah, I’m really here,” I thought.

In the afternoon, I went to the adidas Flagship Store.
Actually, I’m kind of obsessed with adidas. Most people wouldn’t know, but I always feel good wearing their stuff. It’s like part of who I am.

So visiting the flagship store here felt like a mission.
Seeing items you can only get here got me really hyped. I couldn’t help smiling as I browsed through everything.

Also, I didn’t pack many clothes for this trip, so I picked up some T-shirts and socks too.
But honestly, it wasn’t just about what I needed — being surrounded by my favorite brand in a city like New York just felt right.
It made me feel comfortable, almost like I found a little piece of “me” even in this huge, unfamiliar place.

After shopping at the adidas store, I headed to Grand Central.

The moment I stepped inside, I was struck by its sheer scale and elegance.
Tokyo Station or Shinjuku Station might be busier in terms of passenger traffic and train lines, but this… this place had a different kind of presence.

I couldn’t help but think about the difference in how public spaces are valued and built.
Maybe it’s about history. Maybe it’s about culture. Or maybe, it’s about people.

Just like the Public Library, there was something about this place that felt alive.
It wasn’t just a station — it carried the identity of the city itself.
You could almost feel the layers of memories, the countless stories of people who had passed through here over the years.

In Japan, public places often feel more functional and reserved, while here, they seem to express pride and boldness.
Maybe that’s the difference between a society that quietly accommodates people and one that encourages them to leave their mark.

I stood still for a moment, gazing at the beautifully painted ceiling, and let the energy of this grand hall sink in.
It was a reminder that every place, just like every person, has its own story to tell.

After leaving Grand Central, I headed to the Museum of the City of New York — my first museum visit on this trip.

At first, I thought it would be filled with artifacts and historical items lined up neatly in cases.
But once I stepped inside, I realized it was something different.

Rather than just showing objects, the museum told a story.
Each exhibit was designed to trace the journey of New York City, highlighting the key factors and moments that shaped it.

It felt like walking through a living narrative, connecting past and present.
Instead of passively viewing history, I felt like I was experiencing the heartbeat of the city itself.

By the time I left, I knew this place had become one of the museums I’d want to visit again someday.
Not just to see, but to feel the evolving story of NYC once more.

Since I had made it all the way to the northern edge of Central Park, I decided to take a walk toward Cathedral Parkway, letting myself slowly soak in the quiet atmosphere.

And then — a frozen pond.
Seeing it like that instantly made me realize how cold it really was. Just looking at the solid sheet of ice made me shiver even more.

By the shore, there was a rescue ladder casually placed nearby.
I couldn’t help but smile a little, imagining people who must have dared to walk across the frozen surface and ended up needing help.

It felt like such a New York kind of scene — even nature comes with a practical backup plan here.

The evening was all about excitement — tonight’s event was the Moulin Rouge! musical.

As I joined the line, I could feel the cheerful energy of the crowd. Everyone seemed genuinely thrilled, chatting happily while waiting for the doors to open.

I asked the person in front of me, “Is this the line for Moulin Rouge?” and they answered kindly with a warm smile.
What surprised me even more was how smoothly everything went. When staff gave instructions like “Please move forward” or “Line up in groups of five,” everyone followed politely and without hesitation.

Honestly, I didn’t expect this level of order in New York. Somehow, I had imagined Americans to be more freewheeling and relaxed.
But maybe it’s precisely because they value fairness and shared experience that they naturally respect this kind of coordination.

Tonight wasn’t just about watching a show. It already felt like I was becoming part of something special — even while waiting outside.

Inside the theatre, the atmosphere was overwhelming — in a good way.
It was my very first Broadway musical, and as soon as I entered, I was swept away by the gorgeous stage set, glowing lights, and the elegant yet intimate space that brought the audience and performers so close together.

The moment the show started, I couldn’t help but be impressed. The dance, the singing, and the elaborate staging — everything was so polished and captivating.
This was the true power of Broadway.

That said… as Moulin Rouge, I honestly couldn’t fully enjoy it.
It felt quite Americanized and heavily stylized, far from the image I had in my mind. It wasn’t the classic, dramatic Moulin Rouge I was expecting.

Still, this didn’t ruin the experience at all.
Rather, it made me want to come back and try other shows — maybe something more traditional or moving next time. This night became a precious doorway into the world of musicals for me.

Oh, and one little thing I noticed — when the person next to me returned to their seat, they casually said, “squeeze.”
I quietly smiled to myself. Moments like this, where I naturally pick up on real, everyday English expressions, felt just as valuable as the show itself.