NYC in July: Day One
I arrived at Newark airport at 10:30 a.m. on a Friday and thought to myself that this is the perfect time to arrive in New York--the week's busy-ness is still in the air, but there is also a palpable anticipation of the weekend. I caught a cab and immediately liked my cab driver, a very tall and ruggedly handsome guy from Haiti. Just as we were beginning to chat, he received a call on his cell phone and I was treated to an animated conversation between him and his mother. Actually, the conversation was mostly on her end, as I heard a whole lot of nothing, other than him saying something like "maman" while nodding vigorously. He explained to me sheepishly after hanging up that he was supposed to pick up his mother to take her shoe shopping the other day, but couldn't make it, and that she was very eager for him to fulfill the shoe-shopping promise. We continued a pleasant ride into the city with talk of baseball and football and other things, like the progression of Haitian slaves brought to this country via Louisiana. I have often wondered what we could do to change this country if we harnessed the collective wisdom of the country's cab drivers.
Before I knew it, we arrived at our destination, the Washington Square Hotel:
I had never stayed here before, but it is in the middle of the Greenwich Village/Soho area that I know and love so well, is very convenient to the subway and the price is right. Sadly, I was not able to check in early, as my room was not yet ready. So I checked my bag and trotted across the street to Washington Square Park, where I conducted business with a client via cell phone for the next 30 minutes or so. Business concluded and feeling hungry, I began looking for the Sullivan Street pizza place recommended by my friend Jay, when I realized I was really craving the salmon and feta omelette found at my favorite French cafe. Washington Square is as quaint as always:
On my way out of the park, I saw this sign at a church across the street:
I thought I was finished with organized religion, but I would like to know more about a church that would post this sign.
I found the street where my favorite cafe is located, and stumbled upon this unexpected sight:
Yes, it was a boulle tournament in honor of Bastille Day! The sights and sounds were wonderful:
As the pictures may reflect, it was a magical scene, revealing of the special nature of New York City. I reluctantly tore myself away and found my cafe just as I left it:
After a deliciously lingering lunch, I strolled back to the hotel and found I was able to check in. The room was just as I expected it--small and cute. I was able to see the park by peering out one of the small windows in the bedroom part of my room. The window air conditioning unit was blasting away, making the place particularly comfortable on this warm day. After another call with a client, I fell into a deep slumber, lulled into dreamlessness by the sound of the Cubs' announcers. I planned to wake up at 6 p.m. so as to be able to attend the Yankees/White Sox game, but I returned to sleep immediately after fielding my wakeup call and did not wake again until after midnight. I left my room around 2:30 a.m., and realized that New York is the kind of place where one can still find a good slice at that hour. After that, I stopped by a favorite bar for a glass of wine. On the way back to the hotel, I noticed a few guitar players at work under the Arch in Washington Square Park. I stopped to listen, leaning up against the base of the arch with a few others who were not yet ready to call it a night. The music changed from the delightful to the surreal, as did the conversation: the music ended with a Pink Floyd singalong and the conversation with a fellow listener with an offer of pot and/or sex. And at that point, I called it a night (alone).
My Saturday morning was spent in Brooklyn, a place I have never visited but always wanted to see. This is one of the first sights I saw as I followed the kind and thoughtful suggestions of Joe, the amazing photographer from Joe's NYC:
I'll write more soon about the other sights I saw in Brooklyn . . .
Before I knew it, we arrived at our destination, the Washington Square Hotel:
I had never stayed here before, but it is in the middle of the Greenwich Village/Soho area that I know and love so well, is very convenient to the subway and the price is right. Sadly, I was not able to check in early, as my room was not yet ready. So I checked my bag and trotted across the street to Washington Square Park, where I conducted business with a client via cell phone for the next 30 minutes or so. Business concluded and feeling hungry, I began looking for the Sullivan Street pizza place recommended by my friend Jay, when I realized I was really craving the salmon and feta omelette found at my favorite French cafe. Washington Square is as quaint as always:
On my way out of the park, I saw this sign at a church across the street:
I thought I was finished with organized religion, but I would like to know more about a church that would post this sign.
I found the street where my favorite cafe is located, and stumbled upon this unexpected sight:
Yes, it was a boulle tournament in honor of Bastille Day! The sights and sounds were wonderful:
As the pictures may reflect, it was a magical scene, revealing of the special nature of New York City. I reluctantly tore myself away and found my cafe just as I left it:
After a deliciously lingering lunch, I strolled back to the hotel and found I was able to check in. The room was just as I expected it--small and cute. I was able to see the park by peering out one of the small windows in the bedroom part of my room. The window air conditioning unit was blasting away, making the place particularly comfortable on this warm day. After another call with a client, I fell into a deep slumber, lulled into dreamlessness by the sound of the Cubs' announcers. I planned to wake up at 6 p.m. so as to be able to attend the Yankees/White Sox game, but I returned to sleep immediately after fielding my wakeup call and did not wake again until after midnight. I left my room around 2:30 a.m., and realized that New York is the kind of place where one can still find a good slice at that hour. After that, I stopped by a favorite bar for a glass of wine. On the way back to the hotel, I noticed a few guitar players at work under the Arch in Washington Square Park. I stopped to listen, leaning up against the base of the arch with a few others who were not yet ready to call it a night. The music changed from the delightful to the surreal, as did the conversation: the music ended with a Pink Floyd singalong and the conversation with a fellow listener with an offer of pot and/or sex. And at that point, I called it a night (alone).
My Saturday morning was spent in Brooklyn, a place I have never visited but always wanted to see. This is one of the first sights I saw as I followed the kind and thoughtful suggestions of Joe, the amazing photographer from Joe's NYC:
I'll write more soon about the other sights I saw in Brooklyn . . .
posted by Lisa at 7:09 PM
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