Into the bowels of New York City
After a few days in NYC we now head towards Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.
Penn Station, NYC, is the pulsating heart of the region’s daily commute—whether it's a local trying to get to work or someone rumbling in from another city. Plonked right in the middle of Manhattan, underneath Madison Square ( there's another story there)it’s impossible to miss (and sometimes, impossible to escape, as we found in yet another train journey a few years later).
Digging for information
Where we go inside depends entirely on our train and so Drink and I make a dry run the previous day. We are taking Amtrak's Keystone Service and so we have to head over to Moynihan Train Hall, where the ticketing, baggage services, customer help, and actual places to sit are. But we have to stand because all the seats are taken!
Only 15 minutes to locate platform and board
Now, here’s where things get a bit chaotic: the tracks at Penn Station change constantly throughout the day because there are a lot of trains. So instead of assigning tracks early, everyone is kept in suspense. Big electronic boards around the concourse reveal our track number about 15 minutes before departure.
We have to hurry. No time for dilly dallying. We move quickly to the elevator closest to the platform and in no time at all we are on board.
At Penn Station, hesitation means missing your train and a frantic aftermath. The dry run made it all nearly tension free.
Urbanscape to farmland
Our train, entirely electric, has comfortable, quiet seating. We leave NYC , cross the Hudson River through a tunnel underneath, and roll towards Philadelphia, aka the Keystone State, via Newark and Trent in New Jersey. We transition from urban landscapes to the Susquehanna River Valley and farmland. Our three and half hour ride takes us through historic towns, bridges, and rolling hills.
The farms are typical Pennsylvanian Dutch ( a corruption of Deutsch referring to German and so has nothing to do with the Netherlands). The Amish and Mennonites, two of the best known communities of Pennsylvanian Dutch, interestingly, are originally from the southern parts of Switzerland.
The journey of discovery begins at the station
Stepping into the historic train station in Harrisburg feels like traveling through time. With its charming red brick walls and iconic barn-style roof, this National Historic Landmark is more than just a stop—it’s an experience.
The grand waiting hall is spacious and beautifully designed, with elegant columns and thoughtful spaces that make you want to linger. But the real holiday magic? A captivating model train display that had us completely mesmerized—pressed up against the glass like kids again.
The Capitol is nothing but capital
Our host leads us through the State Capitol, and from the moment we step inside, we’re captivated. The architecture is breathtaking, the interiors nothing short of extraordinary. We’ve visited the Texas Capitol in Austin and Washington’s in Olympia—but neither comes close to this.
At the heart of it all rises the awe-inspiring dome above the main rotunda—an immense 26,000-ton masterpiece modeled after St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. Below it, the first floor dazzles with intricate mosaic tiles that vividly tell the story of Pennsylvania—its history, wildlife, and industry woven into the very floor beneath our feet.
Each chamber feels like stepping into a different world. One evokes the elegance of the French Renaissance, with its rich green carpets, Irish marble, polished mahogany desks, and sweeping murals. Another transports us to the Italian Renaissance, glowing under ornate crystal chandeliers and anchored by a monumental painting. In yet another space, the lighting alone creates an unforgettable atmosphere.
Climbing the Grand Staircase, I feel as though I’ve wandered into a Paris opera house. Everywhere I look, Florentine bronze work and luminous stained glass add layers of grandeur and artistry—transforming this seat of government into something almost otherworldly.
A quiet day in the city streets heightens our senses
From the steps of the Capitol, the city begins to reveal itself—not all at once, but in layers. Glass and steel rise confidently into the sky, their reflections catching the light, yet between them stand quieter witnesses to another time. We notice how the modern world simply grew around it.
Just beside a towering skyscraper, almost as if sheltered by it, stands Pine Street Presbyterian Church. Built from solid limestone in 1860, it carries a weight that isn’t just architectural. During the Civil War, it became a place of pause and refuge—a rest station for weary Union soldiers. Even from the street, you can imagine the footsteps that once crossed its threshold.
As our eyes scan the skyline, more stories emerge. A tall steeple rises sharply into view—Grace Methodist Church—its vertical lines drawing our gaze upward. Nearby, a dome curves gently against the horizon, marking the Cathedral of St. Patrick. Each structure speaks in a different voice. They stand up for history and faith.
Our journey continues past Governor’s Row, where rows of historic homes line the streets with a sense of lived-in elegance. These buildings feel less like monuments and more like memories—places where daily life once unfolded, and perhaps still does.
Then comes Shipoke, a neighborhood that holds some of the earliest chapters of the area’s story. One of the first permanent European settlements stood here, long before the city took its current shape. It’s easy to pass by without noticing.
What starts as a simple drive becomes something else entirely becomes a lesson in history.
Divisive and impassable
The Susquehanna River is the longest on the East Coast—and one of its most storied. Once a boundary between North and South, it’s still wild upstream, where rapids make it impassable. Along the riverwalk, though, it’s all beauty: a striking 51-arch bridge overhead and a quirky cow statue left behind from the 2004 Cow Parade.
To be continued in the next blog.
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