New York: Three Boroughs, Two Days, Lots of Pastry

I got into New York in the afternoon and made my way to my site of annnual Pilgrimage: Dean and Deluca, a cathedral of food. This temple to the palate has wonderful selections of cheese, meat, fish, bread, pastries….sigh. All ridiculously expensive, but the sushi isn’t too bad, so I got some to go and decided to eat it in Washington Square Park while reading my book and killing time before meeting up with Kai and Gabi.

So, I sit in the park and eat my sushi and watch the people and read my book, when I notice that the busker nearby is arguing with a guy who seems somewhat deranged. The deranged man is all up in the busker’s space and acting very strangely. He lies on the ground. The busker drags the deranged man by the feet about 5 feet to get him away from his spot. I decide this is a good time to move to a bench around the corner. I do. I read my book. Suddenly, an altercation erupts – the busker starts yelling at the deranged man, and then he is grabbing his guitar and beating the deranged man in the head with it. Pieces of the guitar fly through the air. Everyone in the park collectively stand up from their benches, turn, look, gasp, and then there are people rushing forward to separate the two men. Someone gets the busker away and walks with him out of the park. Ten minutes later, the five police cars show up. A woman who witnessed it close-up gives testimony. The police are talking to the deranged man. The busker is nowhere in sight. DRAMA. I decide, as my time to meet Kai is nearing, that I should move on from this scene.

So I find myself waiting for Kai at a café near NYU where there is supposed to be a poetry reading. It is called, “Haiku Not Bombs.” It looks promising – nice space, crowded. But then it starts, and there is mood lighting behind the reader, ambient music, and a reverb effect on the mic projecting very bad haiku. Kai arrives. We are horrified. Time to split from this artistic disaster also. Though this one was at least good for a snickering chuckle at the pretentious and ridiculous heights of bad poetry

Kai and I meet up with Gabi and Joseph at a bar called VON on Bleeker and Bowery, which is very cool, but loud. I watch a couple on a date. She giddly talks with her hands in every direction. He stares hungrily at her with an expression of desperate hopefulness. Eventually, I realize I am exhausted, and Gabi and I head back to her parents’ house.

This is the first time I have ever spent any time on the Upper West Side, and I have decided I am definitely a fan. Gabi’s home is an apartment in an old building built in the 1890s, and her family has lived in their apartment since the seventies. I was fascinated by her descriptions of the long time residents: the woman whose living room is a shrine to Sai Baba, an Indian Guru. The architect who has a book of drawings of the upper west side buildings. The Italian couple who used to bring out their lawn chairs and sit with the hot dog guy across the street all day long. Fascinating.

The next day, Gabi and I have a decadent brunch at Café Lalo – where one feels transported to Paris in the soft glow of the enormous pastry case housing cakes and croissants and other buttery delights. (Also the site of filming for You’ve Got Mail) The café au lait is just what a café au lait should be – not too milky, rich, and perfectly crowned with foam. The chocolate croissant was also flaky and perfect. With our bellies full, we head uptown to visit the Cloisters museum – the branch of the Met that houses the medieval art collection, including architectural structures – pieces of European chapels and churches reconstructed on the northern tip of Manhattan. We cavort around the medieval gardens doing silly photo shoots among the plants.

We return home, and I decide to go visit Kai in her new apartment in Queens. On the train. Change trains. Walk. SO MUCH WALKING IN NEW YORK. Kai and I have a good time catching up, and then I get the train back. Traveling in New York is so tiring. I was exhausted every night and just fell on the bed and passed out.

The next day, Gabi and I head out with the intention of doing some studying, which we do in fact accomplish. We walk up to a Hungarian Café on Amsterdam, right across from the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, which is one of my favorite places in New York. After working in the café for an hour or two, we walk through the cathedral and then head back to the café for a pastry. We split an apple tart and make it into another silly photo shoot.

After dropping our computers and books back at home, we head to midtown to meet up with my cousin Emily, who works at the Strand bookstore. Though I like the pace of uptown, downtown is SOOOO overwhelming. So many people. So fast. Crazy. We grab Emily from the hive-like buzz of the bookstore and get some Vietnamese food for dinner together, then drop her back off at work and head for the F train, walking briskly through the East Village, in order to meet our friend Chris in Brooklyn. We find him at a bar called Trout in Carol Gardens, and catch up on all the grad school gossip that has mushroomed over the summer. Chris has to go, but then we meet up with Gabi’s sister Shevi for a bit before heading back to the train and the Upper West Side. We got a slice of pizza from Big Nick’s, and a haze of satisfaction descended upon me as I sprinkle peppers and oregano and garlic salt and parmasean all over the huge thin crust slice.

Whew. I can’t believe I covered so much ground. Invigorating. Exciting. Don’t know if I could live there, but what a crazy fun two and a half days!!! Now I am heading up to my grandmother’s house bearing gifts of bagels…though in a fit of confusion at the bagel counter, I ordered 6 cinnamon raison and 6 pumpernickle. What was I thinking? Why didn’t I get sesame?