Ride the 1 train north, all the way to its terminus at Van Cortlandt Park – 242nd Street. Once you get off the train, turn left to face a long, steep hill, which will take you out of Van Cordlandt, past Manhattan College. You will find yourself where the moguls of the 19th Century built their country estates, where 20th-Century captains of industry rode the train. You will find yourself in Riverdale.

The 15 minute climb away from Broadway will relieve you of the remnant street smells and noises of Manhattan dragged north by the elevated train, and replace them with a quiet breeze. Once you get to Riverdale, you will be—literally and metaphorically—above the rest of New York.

It doesn’t feel like the big city any more; 15-story apartment buildings are replaced by one family homes, divided streets with unmarked intersections, cars honking and birds chirping. Most novel is simply the lack of people. Crowds are unknown to these cobblestone sidewalks; rather solitary and silent passersby shuffle past. A mother pushes a stroller. A combed, loafered boy walks nervously to Horace Mann at noon. There are even fewer people than cars—Riverdale feels like a suburb.

The complete absence of businesses and public spaces gives the neighborhood over to one thing alone: beautiful one family homes. Riverdale is a series of hills, and the architecture reflects that. Older “Tudor” haus homes are set into the gentle slopes, each entry framed by gardens and paved steps. An assortment of period set-piece houses flaunt card-access gates to stone driveways. More modern cubic homes on stilts look over spacious backyards. Stairs peek out between segments of winding roads, providing shortcuts and a glimpse into the beautiful houses they run between.

Trash and recycling bins are responsibly stacked at the ends of driveways. Audis, Mercedes, and minivans, and “Lexi” are parked on the unlined avenues next to “NO PARKING PRIVATE STREET” and “YOU ARE UNDER SURVEILLANCE” signs. The gradient ensures an open, airy overlook of the rest of Riverdale and the Bronx, a perspective rarely found on a street closed in by skyscrapers.

Riverdale’s tranquility almost deals culture-shock to the wanderer accustomed to the comparative din of Morningside. Walking through the hushed avenues, it’s not difficult to pretend that the town is completely deserted. Tree-lined culs-de-sac and parks are open but deserted, and windows are dark. The peace will force you into contemplation in spite of yourself, tempting you to recline against a tree with a novel and doze off in the sun. Though there is not a lot to do in Riverdale—after all it has always been a commuter community, ideal for working in the city and raising a family on the side—the neighborhood is worth a visit on a sunny day, either for a picnic in the park—just the two of you!—or just a little bit of time to be truly and refreshingly alone.