The Hamptons are gauche and the Catskills are over-touristed. Where can a reflective New Yorker go for some peace and quiet?  Having the sort of temperament that is thrilled by the contemplation of my own mortality (I should have been French), I recommend Woodlawn Cemetery.

Only a 40-minute subway ride from downtown Manhattan, it's a universe away from the city:  400 acres of undulating green hills, century-old trees, and about 300,000 dead people, who are delightfully sedate companions. Visiting on a Saturday afternoon, we literally had the entire place to ourselves, encountering no creatures (living) apart from two wild geese and a red-breasted robin.

Many famous folks are interred here, including Herman Melville, Miles Davis, and Joseph Pulitzer. But the real attraction is not who's buried, but what they're buried in. The profusion of gorgeous mausoleums references ancient Greek, Roman, and Egyptian architecture, some of which are designed by the likes of John Russell Pope, James Renwick, and the legendary firm of McKim, Mead, and White.

Next weekend, take a good camera, wear comfortable shoes, pack a few granola bars, and head up to Woodlawn (take the 4 train north until you can go no further; it stops right at the cemetery gates).  After a week of urban overload, there's nothing more invigorating than the peace of the dead.