NYC: A Smooth Touch

In August, I did a two-city tour east, stopping first in New York City to visit Shawn, and then Detroit to stay with Amanda and Andrew.  The trip kicked off in style, as I got a free upgrade on my SFO-JFK flight in the new United Polaris, which has fully reclining seats.  This would be a fortuitous event at any time, but it felt particularly welcome flying in the pandemic.

What to say of New York?  It felt like the city is still clawing its way back.  There were pockets of joy and vitality amidst the thinned out crowds, but I couldn't help but feel the shadow of what once was.  Of course that sentiment applies to more than just cities - I suppose we could say that for all parts of our lives these days.

We made adjustments.  We embraced the humidity and heat, my thighs permanently adhering to the outdoor benches and our napkins transformed into sweat blotters, in order to avoid indoor dining.  We prioritized outdoor activities, remembering only faintly the cool relief of air conditioning.  We wore our masks like bracelets, forever ready to briefly enter four-wall air-traps.  We walked hours under the intense sun, rewarding ourselves with iced treats, or most notably, a long swim in the Atlantic.   For better or worse, we lived alfresco.

Part I of the Omaskase at 

Blue Ribbon Sushi - Sullivan St.

We love ourselves some matcha

My first time at Coney Island

Brighton Beach

The waves were so calm at Brighton. Time suspended as we floated and swam in the water, feeling our temperatures drop and our moods soar.

Whole branzino at Tatiana's Russian restaurant right on the boardwalk

A lie, in NYC, although we went to bed at a 

reasonable hour every night this trip 

- was this COVID or are we old now?

Chef's tapas tasting menu at Boqueria, 

reliving our Madrid time together

I adore an omakase, or chef's tasting menu.  We have to make so many damn decisions every day.  And when I get to a restaurant, I just want the waiter to tell me what all the best things are on the menu and bring me those anyway, so why not just create an easy button tasting menu for that, get people to stay longer, and maybe charge a bit extra for flair?  Every restaurant of import needs to implement this.  Please?

Speaking of flair, the creativity and design 

put into some of these new outdoor dining patios 

was a tour de beauté

Wandering lower Manhattan is always fun.  Poking into some favorite shops along Elizabeth Street in Noho; vicariously enjoying Ella Mai's "Trip" playing from the boom box cycling by; taking in the architecture, street art, parklets, and pop-ups.

Please zoom in on the gorgeous detail of this building

Murray's bagels on 6th Ave

Enjoying some shade on the Highline...

...and reflecting on past visits to that exact spot (2014)

One day it threatened rain, and I suggested we go the Whitney Museum, since I had never been.  The art was a nice side bonus to 1) the views, and 2) the AC.

View of the Whitney balconies from our lunch stop at Pastis

The first two nights had been spent in the lower half of New York City, staying at the Walker Hotel; the next few would be at Shawn's apartment in the Bronx, from which we would explore the upper half and beyond.

I was thrilled to find that Summer Stage, the Central Park concert series, was happening, with proof of vaccination required.  Marc Rebillet, DJ Premier, and Brady Watt were a ridiculous combination, free styling humorous raps and collaborating with talented audience members.  My first concert since the pandemic began, I felt ecstatic to be in communion with nature, music, and humanity concurrently.  

Trees!  Music!  People!

Oh, the essentials we've taken for granted.

Back in the Bronx, summer in the city was a completely different vibe.  I spoke to Shawn of how I'd always wanted to see the busted fire hydrants, and they were on full display on every other block, towers of water soaking joyful children, gushing rivers for pedestrians to forge.  This blatant waste of water was equal parts appalling and enviable by this drought-conscious Californian witness.  

Heading a bit farther north, we visited the New York Botanical Garden, where there was a special Kusama exhibit.  

Feeling bougie with rosé and local ricotta at 

Hudson Garden Grill, across from the Conservatory

On the train back, we were not informed that our car could not access the platform at our stop.  As the train was already slowing, the ticket inspector compelled us to run across four cars (and through "do not open when train is in motion" doors) to reach the platform.  Please note that Shawn had purchased an orchid at the gardens and was running with orchid in-hand.  Fortunately they held the train for us and we made it off, sweaty, out of breath, Shawn annoyed and I invigorated.  Oh, New York!  Only an out-of-towner could find this fun.

On our way to dinner in Queens, Shawn and I were waiting for our Uber to drive up in the auto-congested alley next to his building.  As our middle-aged, minivan-driving Latina chauffeur pulled around a double-parked crossover SUV, we cringed as she grazed its front panel.  The people with the car were standing right there and a very awkward exchange ensued, Shawn and I looking on, just wanting to get to dinner and reconsidering if this was the right woman for the job.  We learned the man didn't even own the car; our driver buffed the panel and negotiated ingratiatingly as we stood back, tangentially relevant voyeurs of the scene.  

The exchange had only delayed us a few minutes, everything reset, and we got in the van as originally planned.  Her demeanor changed and she chewed the guy out, saying that getting insurance involved was the last thing she needed.  I felt for the woman: who knows what troubles the past 18 months have brought on her family.  Still, she hit that car.  In her defense, she lobbied: "I'm not denying I touched it, but it was a smooth touch."  I muffled oh so many giggles from the backseat.  Like "Playas gon' play" or Tony Soprano's "Whadya gonna do?" I feel like this phrase can accurately be applied to almost any situation.  

Don't fret, we made it to Astoria without further incident or bodily harm.

Whenever we actually tried to go to bars, 

we were often the only patrons

Sunset over Astoria

The main event: Taverna Kyclades, 

best Greek food I've had outside of Greece

Spanakopita + Greek Salad + Crab-stuffed Sole

On my last day with Shawn, we ditched the city and took the train upstate along the Hudson river to Tarrytown and Sleepy Hollow.  We lunched at RiverMarket, faced a sold out tour of Lyndhurst Mansion, and explored Sleepy Hollow cemetery, where Washington Irving, author of "Rip Van Winkle" and "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," is buried and purportedly set the latter story.  

Abandoned factory begging to be revitalized along the train route

The train ride along the river was beautiful, yet knowing we were on the route to Sleepy Hollow, I was possessed by a heightened awareness of the mysterious or macabre.  My imagination flowed with the happenings of abandoned buildings.  A group of teens a few rows from us were bantering; one proclaimed, "That shit is frightening."  I reveled in the eerie undercurrent.

Satisfying ourselves with just the grounds of Lyndhurst

Sleepy Hollow Cemetery

Irving family plot

Washington Irving's grave

I can't say I cared profoundly about finding the author's grave, but discovering it was like an "X" marks the spot after trudging through hundreds of others.  East coast graveyards are infinitely more interesting than those out here, with revolutionary war soldiers' headstones and poetic epitaphs in almost indecipherable fonts.

Sleepy Hollow farmhouses

Did it feel like the quintessential New York trip?  My instinct is to say no, and yet it was peppered with all the things that would make it so - impromptu interactions with strangers, music and laughter overlapping, overflowing, a global culinary tour.  That's what's so magical about NYC - you can't help but enjoy yourself, eat well, stumble upon the unexpected: essentially, to feel small and yet indelibly connected.