Roosevelt Island is a magical place. That’s what we kept saying when we visited. At least on the surface–in a Stepford Wives kind of way–it seems like the perfect place to live. It’s like a little city unto itself. Perfectly manicured. A few select restaurants, a grocery store, even a Starbucks. And how about the relatively affordable cost of living. Not to mention the tram you can take along the Queensboro Bridge to get to the island or the pristine subway–complete with that New York City rarity, the escalator. There’s also the ruins of the old small pox hospital and sanitarium for the history lovers. And, a beautiful park in commemoration of FDR on the southern tip, which offers some spectacular views of Midtown Manhattan. They hold events in summer like film screenings, kite festivals, and jazz nights. It seems like the perfect place. A very un-New York life in New York. And while, I fully plan on going back–to explore the northern half of the island–there’s something now that seems too perfect. Too manicured. Too clean. Too un-New York. At least for now.