New York: Days 7, 8, and 9

Saturday.
We reserved our rainy Saturday to check out galleries in Chelsea, of which there are about 300. I am earnestly hoping that my art-loving pals for the day are not interested in visiting all of them. David knows the galleries well, so we decided to let him lead. This was an excellent move. From sublime to weird to downright silly, Chelsea has pretty well everything. And considering the crap weather, it was a perfect way to spend a Saturday in New York.

A gal with large unidentified pink plushie stayed in step with us for a while, carrying her oversized friend from gallery to gallery. She let me take her photo. Here she is.

What happened after that? I think there was a forgettable meal at a restaurant that we chose simply for its proximity because of the torrential downpour. And then we walked. Again. For miles and miles. Okay, maybe it was about a mile. We ended up in the West Village.

The evening portion of our Saturday started at a place called Groove. What was at first an excuse to just sit down a bit and enjoy the suspiciously cheap drink specials and peculiar atmosphere turned into a totally hilarious evening of good old touristy fun. The band did energetic and rude funk/r&b covers of a whole bunch of everything, including Pink Floyd. Plenty of extended solos, swearing and heckling the audience. If this place existed in Montreal I'd probably avoid it on principle (tourist-ridden, mandatory minimum purchases, overcrowded, etc. etc.), but we had a great time and I'm no longer too cool to admit these kind of things.


Sunday. Sunday was a stay-away-from-Manhattan day.

Brooklyn Flea

We got up late, took a few Advil and headed out to the Brooklyn Flea. Disappointing. Crappy overpriced Mexican food for breakfast. Lots of bicycle-themed items but nothing that really caught the eye. Yoda hookrug! Furniture made from reclaimed wood! Michael Jackson puffy stickers from the 80s! Lots of irony. Irony abounded. Bleh.

Monday. Last day. It's been a blast, but we're ready to go home. Since our flight isn't until evening, I propose that we head to the beach before departing. You would think that at my age I would already know this: sitting under the blazing sun without any shade for several hours without having applied lots of sunscreen all over is asking for trouble. Yep. Burn baby burn. But it was lovely to swim in the ocean, which I hadn't done for quite a while.

Rockaway Beach

Thursday and Friday

Day Five. Thursday, July 26
Finally bicycle day! I could tell that Patrice is anxious to get back in the saddle after all the walking.

Of course we got off to a late start again. I didn't mind. We went for brunch at Egg. Seeing a pattern? I have this thing about going to the same places over and over. It was yummy. Vanessa Bayer from Saturday Night Live was there. I stared a bit.

We rented a couple of single speeds and head off towards Prospect Park, which was lovely. We didn't spend much time there but it was nice and calm. Heading back we ended up in a high traffic zone with drivers that made me anxious. (Of course it really doesn't take much to get me anxious when I ride in traffic, no matter where I am.) I quickly turned into Eva the NotMuchFun Stress Monster. We had to stop for a snack or something. Right away. So we stopped at this place that looked promising and turned out to be a huge overpriced disappointment. Oops. As we rode away, Pat spotted one of the places that had been recommended to us, just one block away. Rrrrrrrr.

Duck family at Prospect Park

So yeah, probably you know that Brooklyn is across the river from Manhattan. There are a lot of bridges. For years and years people have been telling me I should really walk across the Brooklyn Bridge, such a nice view bla bla bla. So Mr. Keener suggested that we ride across one bridge, cross lower Manhattan and go back over the other bridge. I was not so sure about this. And as the sky darkened I lost whatever little bit of nerve I had. Go on, I said, don't get hit by lightning. I'll see you at the apartment. So we were off in two different directions, to reconvene shortly. And then boom, the storm hit. When I got back to the apartment I was completely sodden.

We changed into dry clothing and leapt into action. The very most amazing David had gotten us tickets to hear Pablo Ziegler (at Birdland, no less). Whoa. I'm sorry, I'm no music writer. It was fabulous. Whoa.

Day Six. Friday, July 27
More biking! We biked to Greenpoint, which I really liked. The more I see of Brooklyn, the more I like it. Especially the parts near the water. We ended up close to a bridge, which of course Patrice wants to ride over. The problem about bridges, you see, is that they usually have pretty long inclines. We were riding single-speed bikes, and it was a bazillion degrees out there. I was not interested in inclines. Call me weak. Call me chicken. I don't care.

Along the river in Greenpoint are a number of interesting spots, including a neato furniture warehouse filled with lovely items we were relieved to not be able to drag home.

Now had come the moment I had been planning for months! Fuerza Bruta! I didn't mind seeing it twice. I would see it again and again. It's such a visually striking show, with non-stop surprises. You shouldn't find out too much before going. Just go. Oh yeah, and the music is amazing.

New York: Wednesday

Wednesday. This was the day we decided to each do our own thing and meet up later.

I spent a lovely day with Jessica, another great friend from the west coast. We started our day at the Whitney Museum of American Art, with the specific aim to check out the Yayoi Kusama exhibition. We had to make an appointment to view Fireflies on the Water, and we got the 3:20–3:40 timeslot. Hmmm. OK, we can work with that. We had time to check out the rest of the Kusama exhibition and a few other floors of the museum (Those of you who know about my enthusiasm for miniatures will understand why Calder's Circus was right up my alley), go for lunch at the very elegant Café Sabarsky, and wander back in a leisurely fashion so we could each spend one minute with the piece. It was worth the wait. I'd rather not reveal too much about it, but if you have a chance to check it out, I encourage you to do so.

Dancer mosaic (artist: Nancy Spero)
Lincoln Center subway station

Another dip into Central Park was in order, for a nice breezy break from the sweltering heat, and then we headed to Lincoln Center on the off chance that the lineup for The Clock wasn't too bad. No such luck. I'll check it out in Toronto.

Patrice and I met up in a park way way downtown, which was fortunately very close to a building I had wanted to check out: Frank Gehry's 8 Spruce Street. Whoa. I can't possibly come up with the words to describe this fabulous building, so here's a brief quote from the website:

"At 870 feet tall, New York by Gehry is the tallest residential tower in the Western Hemisphere and a singular addition to the iconic Manhattan skyline. For his first residential commission in New York City, master architect Frank Gehry has reinterpreted the design language of the classic Manhattan high-rise with undulating waves of stainless steel that reflect the changing light, transforming the appearance of the building throughout the day." (Source:  http://www.newyorkbygehry.com/)

Momofuku's buns. Mmmmm.

OK let's eat!! Momofuku was calling me. I could hear it. Amazingly there was only a half-hour wait. This was my fourth time eating at Momofuku Noodle Bar. I might have a problem.

Not being New Yorkers, we underestimated the time required to wait for a table, be served, eat and travel, so we ended up showing up horrifically late for our next engagement. Exceedingly patient friend David was very understanding when we finally met him at The Frying Pan on Chelsea Piers, a neat old lightship outfitted with a bar and grill, docked at Pier 66 on the Hudson River. What a great place to be at the end of a hot sticky day!

So. It was almost 11:00. We have enjoyed high art, consumed amazing food, and refreshed ourselves with cool beer in lovely company. Sounds like a day. But there was more. There is always more. We were right next to the High Line, which is a truly amazing public park built on an old freight rail line elevated above the streets. And it's beautiful! Luckily there was a bit of time before the park is closed for the night.

David and Patrice on the High Line

New York: First three days

Sunday, July 22, 2012
Here we are! After dropping off our baggage at the place where we were staying, we headed out for a little walk around the 'hood. Bicycle store (first of many!). Tacos. Bedford Street. People were out in droves, being nauseatingly fashionable. We participated in a community Jenga game on the sidewalk. Neither of us made the tower fall. Whew. This was a major highlight of the first day.

On the way back we passed in front of Dumont, which I remembered fondly from a previous visit. I was unable to resist, despite the early hour and the fact that neither of us were actually hungry.  Knackered. Zonked. Hit the sack at 9 p.m. (!)

NOODLES, BROOKLYN

Monday. Having had a really long night's sleep, we got up bright and early to discover other parts of Brooklyn. Our day was spent shlepping our ill-informed selves all over the place for hours and hours, having not taken the trouble to estimate distances or find an interesting itinerary. The East River Ferry provided an all-too-brief break, including a nice view of Manhattan and some heavy-duty wind to dry off the rivers of sweat coursing down every part of my body. I was sweating from places I didn't know were humanly possible, like my eyelids. We got off at 34th Street and started walking again. So much walking.



Tuesday. We started off a bit later on Tuesday, which was just fine with me. We managed about an hour at The Met before our beer meeting with old high school pal Andrew in Bryant Park. Having been informed that Times Square was now partially car-free, we decided to check that out. Still nutso, but better. We escaped midtown and headed down to SoHo for more wandering. Dindin at Back Forty West was scrumptious. I had smoked chicken, which was lovely, and Pat uncharacteristically ordered a summer squash and cheese dish that was tasty but would have done better as an appetizer.

Patrice applauding a kinetic sculpture
Contemporary Art wing of the Met

Thursday: guilty pleasure

I love playing online scrabble and other word games on my phone. I make myself feel better about it by telling myself that I'm doing vocabulary-building activities, so it's technically work.

Thursday: guilty pleasure

I love me some Cheez Whiz on toast. Yeah.

Today's happy observation

Some "weeds" are really quite nice to look at! And they add variety to the garden.

28 jars of mustard: A love story

When Patrice and I first started seeing each other in 2007, every day was full of miraculous discoveries.

"Hey, we both have freckles! Isn't that neat?"
"I have that CD too! And that one! And that one!"
"You like root beer? Wow! I like root beer too! What are the odds?"

So many signs. We didn't need convincing. All the mysterious ways of the universe pointed in only one direction. Then one day I proudly revealed the existence of my one-of-a-kind, totally unique mustard collection. My smug grin was rapidly replaced by a stupefied stare when he informed me that he, too, possessed a collection of mustard! Clearly we were meant to be together.

Eva's mustard collection

Five years have passed. We are taking the next step. We're shacking up! This, of course, means that our respective mustard collections are coming together to become one mind-blowingly huge mustard collection. A mustard collection for the ages. I think this calls for a party.

Patrice's mustard collection

How do you translate when your back is out?

DICTATION! It's a sensation, across the nation. Translation by dictation will save me from damnation. I'm filled with elation! This is my vocation! No need for sedation—dictation translation will be my salvation!

New year

Hello 2012. That has a nice ring to it. Twenty twelve. OK, yes, it's been 2012 for a few months now, but I'm still marvelling at it. And what a year it will be! I'm running my own business! It's a leap year! My fabulous boyfriend is moving in! The world will not end! Obama is going to be re-elected! I will learn to control the flow of my chi! I'M GOING TO TURN FORTY! Does that mean I'm an adult?

LEAPT!

This is the first week Eva Dawson, Translator is in full-time operation! I'm in charge now. This is going to be interesting.