I was surprised how unlike the Upper West Side these blocks felt. The housing projects which fill the east side of the street make it feel more like the outer reaches of the east village or even the Bronx. I normally (and perhaps foolishly) associate this part of town with expensive high-rises, fancy town houses, and the performance culture which radiates from Lincoln Center 20 blocks to the south–practically none of these feel present here.

The blocks are fittingly eclectic with a wide variety of architectural styles and a pleasant mixture of different stores and restaurants. Though Amsterdam has a few trees here and there, the streets which branch off are simply overflowing with them, creating tunnels of greenery to stroll down. Sitting directly between Central Park and the Hudson River you can feel a bit stranded, but it's not nearly as hopeless as 3rd Avenue is on the east side feels.

It's hard to say that this block is in the "middle of nowhere" – I mean, it's in New York City, it's in Manhattan. In this city hardly anywhere could be considered "nowhere", but this street tries its hardest. Almost equidistant from 59th (Central Park South) and 110th (Central Park North) as well as Central Park West and the West Side Highway, the block is absolutely stranded amongst dozens of other identical ones. 

Being a double-wide street, 86th is a lot brighter than surrounding blocks. Also like surrounding east-west streets, this stretch is fairly devoid of any retail, save for the few corner stores on Columbus and Amsterdam. All the buildings that line the way are older and built of brick and stone, including the landmarked West-Park Presbyterian Church, which is currently in a fight to save itself from becoming some strange co-op hybrid.

I can't help but feel somewhat unwelcome in this part of town. While the east side of Central Park is rich with cultural institutions and street vendors, the upper west side is somewhat lacking after you get past the Natural History museum. There's also a perceived feeling of segregation – the residents walk on the west side of the street with their apartments, while everyone else remains on the park side, since why else would we even be in the area other than to visit Central Park?

Of course what these blocks lack in individualism and character they more than make up for with the beauty of the park and the grandiose buildings. It's a classic New York vision: Old trees being confronted by masterful works of beautiful architecture.

There are at least two rather strange structures you'll encounter walking down this block. The first is an out-of-place example of (what I would assume to be) German architecture which runs along 95th for several hundred feet. Complete with stonework, stucco and exposed timbers the building looks to be pre-war. I couldn't tell for sure but the strange (and unidentifiable – Google was no help) building appears to house apartments. With expensive high-rises all around, it's so incredible to see something like this without so much as a plaque to explain itself.

Further down the line in the middle of Broadway you'll find something far more identifiable: the new headhouse for the renovated 96th Street 1,2,3 station. With a unique swooping glass & steel design the new entrance shares visual cues from other modern Subway projects (such as South Ferry and Bowling Green), but gives the design its own twist.

What comprises an Upper West Side block can be broken down like this:

• 60% classic architecture,
• 10% modern architecture
• 10% canopies of trees
• 20% Broadway randomly cutting through your neighborhood with massive chain restaurants.

The manner in which Broadway slices down the middle of these blocks results in a much less picturesque setting than you would otherwise have. Sure, the surrounding avenues have their fair share of commercial storefronts, but the doublewide broadway excels at bringing them to the forefront. This particular day half of the block was cut off for a street fair which cut back on the cold, stark nature of the street.

Surrounding blocks are dark, covered in trees and blocked by buildings. Doormen stand every few buildings, ensuring some errant photographer doesn't bother their shy tenants. The building on the corner of West End Avenue is completely masked by ivy, almost to an absurd degree. It makes me wonder if the root are causing any structural problems. 

Hidden, short, narrow, quiet - all words that wouldn't be out of place describing the unfinished segments of the 2nd Ave Subway – however in this case we're talking about a strange fragment of Riverside Drive which splits off from the main artery. This division creates a teeny, sliver-like part called Joan of Arc Island. Spanning just five blocks and only about 150' at its widest point, the island is more of a median between the two streets than a park – though it is beautifully maintained and features a grand statue of its namesake.

The northbound, single-lane street is bounded by the park on the west and large apartment buildings on the east. Though neither the buildings nor the park are terribly imposing, the narrow alley-like street makes it more claustrophobic than it would be otherwise. The stretch is deadly quiet with very few cars. There's a laughable scrap of sidewalk on the park side – maybe 6-inches wide but the lack of cars doesn't make it feel too dangerous. At each intersection the otherwise dark (though welcoming) street is drenched in blinding sunlight.