NEW YORK, May 15 — In 2002 I arrived in Madrid on a self-styled one-year sabbatical. The plan was to paint, write and learn Spanish before heading back to New York. Much of the year blew by in a blur of long lunches and late nights before I painted or wrote anything. But I learned Spanish in a few months and fell in love with Madrid even faster.

Now 14 years, a husband, two children and a slew of Spain-centric articles later, I can give a candid assessment of my adopted city.

First, urban planning is a stranger to Madrid — the city simply does not have that cohesive aesthetic that makes, say, Barcelona instantly appealing to visitors. But the potpourri of building styles and add-on districts has left a dynamic jumble of neighbourhoods with just enough stunning streets and plazas — like Gran Vía, Plaza de Oriente or Plaza Mayor — dotting the map.

The Spanish capital also has splendid parks, from the grand Retiro to the tiny garden of the Palace of the Prince of Anglona in the city’s oldest quarter. Since 2011, a park known as Madrid Río has stretched four miles along the banks of the trickling Manzanares River, giving the landlocked city the faintest whisper of a coastline.

Moments of serendipitous beauty sometimes stop me in my tracks. I get ideas for picture books daily. One would feature the stunning brick facades of the late 19th-century neo-Mudéjar buildings like Casa Árabe opposite the Retiro or the bustling Matadero Madrid arts centre near the river.

Once I got around to writing, I spent a decade chasing the new and novel, but so much of the news today is about tradition, like handmade shoes at Glent or Carmina, pedigreed olive oil and tapenades at La Chinata and artisans like Javier S. Medina who creates playful vegan animal trophy heads from dried reeds and grass.

Since I once worked at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, the Prado feels comfortingly familiar. I wept the first time I saw Rogier van der Weyden’s “Descent From the Cross”, although it’s unclear if it was caused by the artist’s evocation of abject sorrow or jet lag and an excess of Champagne during brunch in the sunny garden of the neighbouring Hotel Ritz.

I was married in the garden of the costume museum, the Museo del Traje, and now our five-year-old twins frolic amid the same fountains and cypresses. Parenthood has also increased my frequency at the Railway Museum and the Naval Museum.

The flea market El Rastro remains a favourite pastime. For decorative arts, my current first stop is Lagur, but it is also difficult to walk out of Odalisca empty-handed. Every worthwhile Madrid activity ends with a meal or drinks, or both. Amid the Rastro’s classic dives like Muñiz and El Diamonte are new all-day restaurants like El Imparcial and Martina Cocina, an Argentine cafe with hearty quiches and wildly decadent desserts.

Across the city, the gastronomic scene is globalising; you can now enjoy a proper lunch featuring international dishes before 2pm. From the Michelin-starred Mexican restaurant Punto MX to the 10-year-old Southeast Asian Sudestada to old-school classics like El Landó, there is a dining room to make everyone feel as home as I do in Madrid. — The New York Times