NYC

I had so much fun in New York. It was a whirlwind and I wish I had longer there! But I did a little bit of everything I wanted and actually squeezed in more than I thought I would. It was super mild (compared to Toronto) and it was such a joy to get a good stroll on and not have to wear ugly winter practical footwear. Friday, I focused on Soho & Greenwich Village and had fun at Lafco and John Derian, where I made some purchases.


On Saturday, I strolled from the hotel to the Neue Galerie, stopping at Tiffany with my Starbucks (so I could say I had breakfast there), to see the Klimt exhibit. Lots of my favourite sketches were there and a great tight little collection. I had a bowl of soup at Cafe Sabarsky afterwards.

Then I strolled over to Madison, walked straight into Jonathan Adler and got myself a wee pressie. Then on and down, ducking into more shops, over to Lexington and another coffee and a violet macaron at Payard. On and on south, ducking back over to Fifth Ave to the MoMA, where I saw heart-wrenching art — most of which I forgot was in the collection, so every room was a pleasant surprise. I was dizzy leaving.


Finally back to the hotel to get dolled up for the theatre . Little did I know: New Yorkers don't dress up for theatre. This made me sad. The play was clearly something special for me since I built a whole whirlwind trip around it. And the woman next to me was wearing New Balance trainers. I'd like to think she was a tourist, but she obviously wasn't. Not that I think there should be rules or anything. But isn't it nice when everybody treats it like it's a real occasion?

The plays (all four of them) were great, but not mind-blowingly epic. The best was Eh Joe with Karen Kandel stealing the entire show. Baryshnikov was perfect in the face. But his body is too vital and strong to be convincing as one of Beckett's haggard characters. In Eh Joe he remained still, with the focus was entirely on his face, so it was the most effective of the four.



Sunday, was a short day: Hit the MET, checked my luggage. Was happy to finally see Damien Hirst's The Physical Impossibility of Death, but was even happier to see lots of Hofmann, de Kooning and Rothko.

And that was me, cab to LaGuardia and home. I promise I won't stay away twelve years again!
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