Bright Lights, Big City

Here's what I'm seeing as I write...blue waters of the Chesapeake Bay - you'd never know it's so polluted, to the eye it is the loveliest sight in the world. It's Sunday so sailboats abound. Ducks, gulls and kids share the water with crab pots.

What I'm smelling is the scent of charcoal heating up in preparation for someone's afternoon cookout. What I hear? Nothing but the sounds of water coming from the fountain next door as it splashes over rocks in a bold attempt to compete with the other sound of the bay lapping at the jetty about 20 feet from my swing. Thank you Don.

Now, compare this to 48 hours ago. New York City in all it's raw, dirty, smelly noisy glory, and the contest is well, for me at least, no contest. Every few years I get a real jones for a  city fix. Normally I can do that through a conference or two but as you all know, the money for that has dried up, so Don and I left the tranquility of a short family visit in the Berkshires to trip the light fantastic.

Taking the train from Stamford was exactly the way to go. 50 minutes and we were smack dab in the middle of Grand Central where, frankly, I could have spent half the day just sampling the food. It reminded me of the big food hall at Harrods or the food market in Barcelona. Every wonderful smell in the world clamoring for top billing! Oh, the bakeries to die for.....the fresh fish and Indian cuisine.....and the languages.
A joy to the ear.

The hop on, hop off bus was the perfect way to take it all in (thanks for the idea Kathleen) and we sure managed to do a lot in two days. We are now experts on King Tut though still wondering how it is that the creators of the exhibit have yet to mention out loud that TuT and his ancestors were likely of African lineage.

Then, up close and personal with Viola Davis, who stole the show, and Denzel who Don complained was just Denzel. He had trouble separating the actor from his role as Troy Maxson. I could see his point but still felt that Troy worked for Denzel as so many of his roles involve men who are seething with rage under the surface and it rolled off of him.

Fences was powerful, sad, funny and illuminating and will lead me to learn as much as I can about August Wilson and his background as a man and as a playright.

The Guggenheim never ceases to inspire though the photography exhibit left something to be desired. Some steps around Central Park, a trip through Harlem and past the Apollo, a long walk down Lexington Ave. and a stop at a delightful restaurant with a concept that might have even kept me in the business! One meal - take it or leave it. Steak and pommes frites.

 A half bottle of wine and double salads for Don who is still averse to red meat, a wonderful conversation with our very interesting waitress - an art student from Pratt who designs monsters - and we were back on the train.

I promised I'd share her website but the battery is dying so I'll tell you more tomorrow along with thoughts on the book I've been reading which corresponds nicely to the family affair that brought us north in the first place.