If only the rest of America could be like New York City. It's easy for us to point the accusing finger across the Atlantic to blame the USA for the problems of the world today, to criticise its love of excess and its gluttony.

For sure, wide swathes of the country are deeply flawed, rife with gun crime and having apparently endemic disregard for anything which happens around the rest of the globe.

But to write off America with a broad sweep of the hand would be not only hypocritical but a massive disservice.

We enjoy so many of its by-products, and anyone who denies that should treat themselves to a few days in New York to find out exactly what I mean. And what a city it is – magnificent, furiously manic and jaw-droppingly glorious.

Just the outline of Manhattan, dominated by the giant blue spike of the Empire State Building thrusting into the sky, has inspired generations of musicians, playwrights and poets.

We flew over it when arriving from Bristol at Newark International Airport and could see it each morning as we ate breakfast on the top floor of our hotel in New Jersey (a good place to stay, by the way, as it's affordable and a peaceful retreat from the city).

From far away, the skyline looks achingly spectacular, but the view bears no relation to what goes on near the roots of the city.

Emerging from underground – in this case Penn Station next to Madison Square Garden – you are assaulted by a volley of noise and light. The first thing you notice is the volume of people, all heading different ways and on a different purpose. Businessmen mingle with fashionistas, tramps walk among tourists, street vendors tout and sell while porters and doormen guard and serve proudly.

Traffic cops stand fearlessly waving streams of yellow taxis across junctions, stretch limousines glide through and cyclists weave among red lights and exhaust fumes. Horns blare, lights change and pavements full of pedestrians become momentarily empty as two flows of people collide, then pass each other to make their way to the end of the next block. You wander out into the melee. Then you look up and your jaw hits the sidewalk. Skyscraper next to skyscraper next to skyscraper – piles of concrete and glass around steel girders, rising majestically towards the stars.

Manhattan is divided by a criss-cross network of 12 main avenues and more than 200 streets, running north-south and east-west each way along the island. The rigid formula of the way the towers are divided allows for some fantastic views along roads which stretch dead straight for more than five miles, apart from Broadway, which irreverently snakes its way up the length of the island.

Despite the massive towers which dwarf everything around them, there's certainly no oppression in the air. In fact, there's nowhere that I've ever visited in which you find such vibrancy and exuberance, stemming from a sense of pride that New Yorkers are part of arguably the world's greatest city. They are confident and assertive, yet friendly people who want you to feel at home in their home town.

And with such a vibe going on, it's hard not to enjoy yourself.

Times Square is the epicentre of it all, a glaring neon hub which brings 24-hour daylight and rattles with commercial activity and tourists' flash bulbs, while mighty skyscrapers of different shapes and ages rise up around it.

The Rockefeller Centre alone is a city within a city, a complex of 19 huge buildings sitting in the centre of Midtown Manhattan between 48th and 51st Streets.

What else can you do in Manhattan? Well, how long have you got?

How about relaxing in Central Park, shopping to your heart's content in Macy's or Bloomingdale's.

Or, if you fancy something a little more bohemian, head south to Greenwich Village, which was somewhere my wife and I visited twice.

The second time was on our final day, when we dined on the legendary John's Pizza and indulged in afternoon cake from one of Bleecker Street's famous confectioners. The first time was on Halloween, when a stretch of Sixth Avenue was taken over by the annual festive parade.

New Yorkers really get into the spirit of these occasions – even our shuttle bus to the train station that day was driven by a Puerto Rican in a Dracula outfit.

For the city folk, Halloween isn't just for the children. It's a chance for the adults to dress up, and make a statement about their individuality. New York is certainly not a place for the shrinking violets. Just look at Broadway, the world's most famous shrine to self-proclamation and exhibitionism. Not very British, certainly, but hats need taking off to the Americans, who do it incredibly well.

At the Ambassador Theatre on 49th Street, we saw Chicago, a tale of corruption, lust for fame and villainy set in the same city in which Barack Obama made a political name for himself. Leading lady Charlotte d'Amboise was performing the role of Roxy Hart for the 2,000th time on Broadway the night we saw her.

She had the fitness and flexibility of a gymnast, moves which wouldn't have looked out of place among the professionals on Strictly Come Dancing, and a voice which oozed character and charm.

Other performers were blessed with even stronger voices, one character in particular almost blowing the roof off in her solo, and the whole cast had a concentration of talent and skill which befitted the prestige of the location.

You see, whether we like it or not, places like New York represent the pinnacle of what mankind can achieve in the urban context. It has the best shops, the greatest buildings, the most talented showgirls and actors, and the richest and most powerful men and women in the world.

I don't want to idealise America, far from it. You only need to journey just outside Manhattan (stay well away from the dire restaurants in Secaucus, New Jersey) to see how many problems it has and how soul-starved large parts of it are.

But when you see it in full swing, you can't help but fall in love with it.

If you despair for the future of humanity – as well you might in these dark global times – a trip to New York will do you a lot of good.

It charges your senses, lightens your mood and offers you a heady cocktail of, at worst, escapism and self-denial and, at best, confidence and hope.