Eight Days in Angie's NYC

This whole surgery thing came with a few fringe benefits, and I'm proud to say that I took advantage of them in a huge way.  If I can get the stars aligned such that I am: 

- one, off work for more than a second

- two, feeling what felt miraculously fine when compared to how I anticipated feeling; 

- and three, have this dream of a support system at home that knows a trip (or two, as it turned out) to NYC would be the obvious answer to any troubles real or imagined, then I'd be onto something.  

And onto something I was.  So here is the extraordinarily spectacular experience, captioned and detailed, with gratitude.  The first completely solo trip was from October 10th through the 13th.  The second trip, with my sister-in-law, was from October 22nd through the 25th.  These are just details that don't matter unless you're a calendar person and deem things in your personal life as sacred - a silly thing my brain does from time to time or maybe always but you need not fixate.  

I arrived by train on a Monday around 1pm and was immediately confused as to why I couldn't find my favorite escalator inside Penn Station.  I have this thing where I get all starry-eyed on the way up the escalator as I see the buildings start to come into view and the crowded sidewalks and the scaffolding holding buildings together and smell the street food and hear the chatter and buzz of people just before the doors open at the top and I'm dumped onto 7th Avenue with the whole trip out ahead of me.  

But I couldn't find that.  So I actually turned around, determined to get my twirly dreamy-eyed moment, and retraced my steps to see where I'd taken a wrong turn.  I never found it, and I didn't know why until three days later when I returned to the train station and learned that the entire Amtrak station has been remodeled since I had last been there by train in 2020.  You now get off the train in a different part of Penn Station.  I could've eventually found "the" escalator but decided not to spend precious me-time minutes in my favorite city figuring it out.  I instead spent a moment reconfiguring my backpack and roll-on to include my jacket tied around it instead of around my waist to feel as lightweight and hands-free as possible.  I would learn later that I was very slightly over-packed for the first trip but redeemed myself with a perfect pack for the second.    

My first wander was to 31st street near Broadway to walk by and snap a picture of the Life Hotel, formerly Herald Square Hotel, which is now sadly closed after the pandemic.  Matt and I stayed in Herald Square Hotel more than a few times during our early trips to the city.  When it became Life Hotel, many cover artworks adorned the walls which were interesting to see.  I hope it opens back up at some point.  Ayza, the wine and chocolate bar adjacent to it, seemed to be thriving with its same flowery decor and lovely outdoor patio.  We celebrated there after the marathon in 2014 with decadent truffles intentionally paired with decadent wines after my decadent post-race cheeseburger that could've broken records.  

While perusing that specific area of the city, I remembered the little pop-up food-truck-type area nearby where Broadway diagonally crosses West 31st.  We had walked by it several times but never really stopped and I was the perfect amount of not starving but just hungry enough to go there.  This was my first intentional act of "doing something in the city that you normally can't do when your family is in tow", specifically falling under the category of "eating spontaneously".  

I now know this area is called 'Broadway Bites' and it has grown considerably since 2014, our last stay in that particular area.  I had great empanadas from a Brazilian place and my first ever Guarana' soda which was absolutely DELICIOUS.  It's like a lighter version of a cherry soda with a perfect balance of flavor and fizz.  It was also my first human interaction with someone in the city and the cashier taught me how to pay with my phone for the first time and she was very friendly.  Her coworker was the one who talked me into trying the Guarana' and also the spicier green sauce for the empanadas and I appreciated them both.  

This is the outside of Lillie's Victorian Establishment, known as "Lillie's Establishment" or sometimes just "Lillie's".  To Caitlin and I, it's "that adorable Victorian place" that we visited in 2015 during our Times Square-centric stay for the Broadway Teachers Workshop.  I happened to walk by when they were putting up their outside Halloween decorations which quickly began drawing a crowd for obvious reasons.  

My hotel room at Row NYC, which all cab and Uber drivers referred to as "The Row".  An 11th floor view of mostly scaffolding and cranes and a pizza place that seemed either extremely popular with long lines outside or completely empty, with neither predictable over the three days.  The 'M' over the window is for the borough of Manhattan.  That probably sounds obvious but took me a day or two to connect it with the hotel's general decor and brochure vibe.  The 'M' could also be a nod to Milford Plaza, which was what Row NYC was before it was Row NYC.  I also learned from a video screen news show in the back of a cab that soon the hotel will host 200+ migrant families.

That evening, I walked from the hotel down to Chelsea.  I snapped this picture from an intersection along 8th Avenue of Madison Square Garden and the Empire State Building. 

My destination in Chelsea was Bathtub Gin, a speakeasy experience.  Special note to my husband that I spelled that correctly AND pronounced it correctly inside my head as I typed it out.  He's been politely correcting me every time I say the word because apparently, I emphasize the wrong sylLABle.  Anyway, I was so proud of myself that I found the place and that I overcame my typical shyness to ask the guy at the door if I was at Bathtub Gin.  Now probably, I shouldn't have asked and should've instead just approached confidently without question, but this was my first time at a speakeasy so I'm reflecting gently.  It was this crowded at 9:00pm on a Monday night - another detail of NYC that I love.  I could barely squeeze in at a standing spot at the bar, but I did partake in a fresh, crisp gin cocktail that was almost up to the $16 price.  But the ambiance was beautiful and I'd love to return with a group and a table reservation, which seemed a bit difficult, even on a Monday.  Pretty good singer, too.  

After this I got in a cab that I hailed all by myself (triumph!) and went to The Mayfly, a neighborhood bar in the LES.  I'm choosing to believe that I have risen the ranks to using acronyms for the city's geographic segments.  Also, I'm embracing the fact that I am using acronyms simultaneously with phrases like 'geographic segments' and probably not even making accurate sense.  I went to the Mayfly for a free comedy event that they have every Monday night.  It was...fine.  Not all of it was my favorite flavor of comedy, but I met some locals who were all friendly and thought it was cute that I had ventured out to see what the internet had coined as one of the "most fun things to do on a Monday night in NYC".  Even the bartender seemed surprised by this, which was funny.  If my friend kickball Kevin had been there, he would have repeatedly yelled, "most fun thing to do on a Monday night in NYC!" every time things got awkward.  To note, the gin cocktail at the Mayfly was arguably better than the one I had at Bathtub Gin and was twenty nickels cheaper.  

***

The next morning, Tuesday for those of you keeping track for the quiz later, I spent some leisurely time researching a few goals for the day.  My first stop was a manicure at Nams Nail Spa in Hell's Kitchen.  I chose a color called "Lux Posh" which is currently still hanging in there.  It's a mix of gray and lavender and I've enjoyed it.  The salon was friendly and they offered me a piece of fruit on the way out which was nice.  

I then had a fantastic lunch back at Lillie's Victorian Establishment and was immediately glad that I did when I walked in and saw the INSIDE Halloween decorations.  Oh. my. word. 

Isn't this beautiful?  It was called "Here Comes the Sun", a song near and dear to my heart.  We even now have a guest bedroom with decor dedicated to it.  The rest of this trip has significantly fewer gin cocktails.  Lillie's bar is gorgeous and the focal point of the entire restaurant.  

I mean, look at this.  Most of the things hanging from the ceiling moved.  

There were probably at least 200 skeletons, not counting the ones outside. 

View from the entrance looking in.  The hostess said they do it all up again for Christmas.  If one of you goes, take a picture for me!  

A selfie across from Lincoln Center, where I would be the next night.  I also scoped out the American Folk Art Museum, noting its operating hours for the next day.  In case you can't tell, the weather is a perfect 72 degrees and sunny. 

                

Near Lincoln Center was one of my day's destinations: Central Park Resale and Consignment.  I love going to thrift shops and this falls under the same category of being more difficult to do with the family in tow, especially the wandering nature of it.  This was a great time.  I thought the little pictures on the wall next to the phone were funny, and this flower garden pedestal feature right by the store entrance was possibly overlooked but lovely on a sunny day.  I found lots of things that I luckily tried on to realize that some didn't fit, but I had a thorough browse and declared to the cashier as I went to pay, "well I've had a lovely time in here!".  And that was true.  In the end, I purchased a scarf, a pencil skirt, and a sheath dress that I wore later that same night to the theater.  

And then I had a conversation with the same cashier that truly marks the "me in NYC" that I can otherwise not explain.  She asked me if I lived in the city or if I was visiting.  I told her I was from Virginia.  She asked if I was visiting for work or for pleasure.  Pleasure.  I added that I come often but usually with my family so this trip was focused on things that are easier to do alone.  Then she asked if I was going to any shows.  And I answered yes, that I was seeing The Music Man that evening and then the New York Philharmonic the next evening in their new concert hall.  She had recently seen The Music Man and enthusiastically told me how each show is spontaneously a little different as the cast interacts with each other in the moment and how it's one of the best shows out there.  

And then she simply asked me, "Are you a musician?" 

And I replied, "Yes, I'm a classically trained pianist and percussionist."  

"Ha, is that all?" she replied with a huge smile.

"Well, that and I'm an elementary music teacher." 

I know this is a standard, likely bore of a conversation to read but I must add that I have never answered the question, "Are you a musician?" with that exact answer before, until asked by the cashier at the Central Park Resale and Consignment, in October of 2022.  Even though my answer was completely accurate.  I had never before strung the words "a classically trained pianist and percussionist" together even though I took piano (and organ) lessons from age 4 through high school and do in fact have a concentrated degree in percussion.  I always jump to the bit about being a teacher first and the audience always jumps to the "oh that must be a fun job!" bit and the musicianship behind all of that is quickly laid to rest.  But in NYC, with a complete stranger, my words are poised and command the conversation.  My identity is clearly defined, glossing over zero parts.  

I actually replayed the whole thing in my head as I was walking back to the hotel.  "A classically trained pianist and percussionist?" I went over it, almost laughing like I had exaggerated it into something untrue.  But there it was, and now one human (and her assistant who helped bag the purchases and seemed equally impressed) knows a more accurate summary of my actual musician self. 

                                

I then walked into the park and wandered a bit near some playgrounds that we've taken Arthur to before and by Tavern on the Green where I will always stop to take the photo here on the right.  This is round-about where the NYC Marathon ends, so I usually try to find a minute or two to walk around this part and remember where the flag-lined finishing chute and spectator bleachers were set.  Every year around this time I get the itch to do it again but the idea of training for it gives me pause, now with a child and older knees and joints.  But it's all an awesome memory and was a definitive achievement in my life that I'll never forget. 

This was also when I remembered that I wanted to try the Ellen Reid Sound Walk that I had downloaded to my phone months ago on a day when I was not in Central Park.  But on this day I WAS in Central Park and happily turned it on, took this picture of the park map to refer back to without having to constantly engage google maps, and immersed myself in beautiful music from the New York Philharmonic.  No two sound walks are alike, as the music is guided by the path you choose, triggering musical cells that harmonize with your surroundings.  It's every bit as cool as you might think, and I'm adding Ellen Reid to the list of people I'd like to meet.  

                                     

I think if Arthur could play a Little League game here in Central Park on a high-of-72 day where we were all feeling great and people were picnicking nearby and New Yorkers were doing their thing all around us  and the birds were chirping and then afterward we could get street food including those roasted almonds and then meander our way back to some version of living or staying there that that would indeed be a happy day and I'd tell you all about it. 

                                                 

Waiting for their next gig. 

                

And then, I gussied myself up (in my new dress from CPR&C where I learned I am a musician) for "The Music Man" with the legendary Hugh Jackman and Sutton Foster, who need not a marquee for attention to their greatness.  Holy cow, if you haven't seen this yet, hurry up before January and get to it.  I've truly never seen people having more fun on stage than this cast is having.  The music joyfully swells and bounces and mimics the quirky human nature of everyone in River City, IA.  The first musical I ever directed was "The Music Man" so I know it all too well, and it's also one of Matt's favorite shows.  In fact, he was who talked me into doing it that year even though I didn't think the kids would get any of the jokes and I'd have to explain why everything was funny and how to deliver each line so that it was funny.  This time, it was so fun to laugh with them and have a good time right along with them.  The choreography was outstanding, including the children in the cast and an impressive tap-dancing duet between Hugh and Sutton towards the end.  It was two hours of joy.  

And by luck, my seat ended up being very close to the stage door so I got a great spot to wait out Hugh's exit and wave to the fans.  I took a video, but this blog platform is not letting me upload it here.  But he was warm and every bit as happy-eyed as he looked on stage.  Not hard on the eyes, either. 

I then wandered around Times Square in the fake daylight, watched some really great jump-ropers that had drawn a crowd, had probably the best late-night pizza of my life followed by a decadent double-chocolate muffin from Junior's, watched some Seinfeld and South Park back at the hotel, and called it a night.  

***

The next morning, I ventured back towards the park, this time on a more focused plan to wander eventually towards the Shakespeare Garden, seeing a few things on my way.  I checked out Carnegie Hall's upcoming calendar of events, and noticed that The Plaza is almost sans scaffolding.  

Another lovely day.  Right after I took this, I took a picture of a woman in this spot who was from Colombia.  She seemed to be happy about the weather and her current location, too.  

The Central Park carousel, in festive decor for Halloween.  I will always think of The Catcher in the Rye when I'm in this spot and hearing the music.  

From a bench near the carousel where I stopped to remember (AGAIN!) to engage with the SoundWalk.  I heard different music this time because I was in a different part of the park.  

Women's Rights Pioneers Statue in The Mall. 

Farther along down The Mall, I had paused the soundwalk to listen in on some of the musicians playing along the way.  There was a saxophone player improvising to a track, a singer doing a sort of melancholy blues, and a bucket drummer adding to the mix.  I was sorta wandering and then this booth of colorful, whimsy note cards caught my eye so I wandered over to it to take a look.  I almost always buy notecards from any art-related event or market, I think a pass-down from my grandmother who loved stationery.  

A man was selling them and I got to talking with him only to learn that he had been a children's musician for a long time, at one point with Disney, and had recently moved from the L.A. area to NYC.  He was a vocalist and had also done some voiceover work for McDonald's commercials in the 80s that I'd probably be able to pick out his voice from if I investigated.  Before the pandemic, he had chickens and his daughter's favorite one was one they had named Marzipan or "Marzi" for short.  This man had had a rough go during the pandemic and one day just started doodling about this chicken who had brought his family lots of laughs and simple fun.  He started adding proverbs and phrases to caption them and now he sets up a booth in various parts of the city and travels to markets when he feels like it.  I found one I really liked and walked away happier that I had stopped to talk with him.  

I'm supposed to next say that I 'rambled' through The Ramble (a particularly great spot for the soundwalk I might add) and made it to my destination of the Shakespeare Garden.  On May 28, 2012 a handsome, overheated in the humidity, tall, very funny and very nervous Matt proposed on the middle of three connected benches with very kind words.  I sat for a bit and wrote about it, with my new notecard as inspiration.  

We have this picture in every season except maybe winter.  It's the entrance to the garden.  It's next to a marionette puppet theater that one day will have a show going at the same moment we're all there.  

             

I took a few more pictures of scenic lake and bridge moments before exiting the park to find food.  

Ended up at a cafe that I can't remember the name of but had a delicious Italian sandwich and peach iced tea outside on the sidewalk tables across from Lincoln Center.  

 

Northern side of Lincoln Center's new David Geffen Hall, decorated with a new public art commission by Nina Chanel Abney titled "San Juan Heal", honoring the vitality of the San Juan Hill neighborhood.  Where Lincoln center now stands was once a vibrant predominantly Black and Puerto Rican neighborhood.   A series of events honoring this history took place in conjunction with the dedication of the new concert hall a few days before I arrived.  

After lunch, I ducked into the American Folk Art Museum for a brief but lovely time.  I learned about Morris Hirshfield, Polish-American who was self-taught and originally a tailor.  He designed and even patented slippers and shoes, often very fancily adorned.  I enjoyed his animal paintings the most, closely followed by the slippers.  Admission was free, and I also enjoyed the gift shop where I bought very unrelated to my gallery experience: cashmere-blend gloves in a gorgeous fuscia and a book called "How to Be a Moonflower".  More to come on that. 

And then, I had the best time at a vintage vinyl shop.  For almost an hour.  RPM Underground Vinyl on West 54th.  Super fun.  I stocked up on a few Police records I didn't own, as well as a Grateful Dead.  I have no pictures but the guy working there was friendly and helpful and it was a fun find to which I will definitely return.  

                             

I then ducked into The New York Times Building to see the lobby.  Pretty cool and very glassy.  It was under heavy construction so I almost didn't think I'd be able to walk through but I found the side entrances.  It was bustling on a Wednesday afternoon around 4:30pm.  There was a neat exhibit just off the lobby called "Moveable Type" that is better shown in video (which again, is prompting a blog platform change to one that uploads videos more easily).  It was a bunch of small rectangular screens that reminded me of car stereo deck screens.  They would flicker and change every fifteen seconds and when you investigated closely you could see that they were flashing headlines, articles, tweets, links to anything that was actively being engaged with at that moment regarding The New York Times.  Here's a better description:  "Movable Type is an active portrait of The New York Times that is fueled by the contents of the daily paper and the visitors to NYTimes.com who are browsing, searching, reading, and commenting."  And later, "Each scene represents a different way of slicing the database of Times reporting."  Cool stuff.  

Okay.  Onto the New York Philharmonic experience.  I don't know how I can possibly capture this in writing, but I can try.  I was worried that I had maybe peaked early with how awesome "The Music Man" was the night before and that this concert would be high quality and special because of the new hall but perhaps a bit dimmer an experience by comparison.  I could not have been more wrong.  It really can't be compared as they are two very different things. 

The ticket to this concert was the entire reason this particular trip happened.  I knew I'd be in the area around these dates and I started searching for things going on and up popped this "Returning Home" concert by the New York Philharmonic, the opening series of concerts in the new David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center.  I skimmed the program on the website and audibly gasped when my eyes saw "The Pines of Rome" as the closer.  After my third audible, "Oh my GOD!", Matt suggested that I go for it.

Admittedly, the first time I remember connecting with "The Pines of Rome" was with Fantasia 2000, which I saw in an IMAX theater in Baltimore, MD shortly after its release.  Disney paired it with a story of whales that has no connection to the music's origin.  But I immediately loved the music and purchased it on CD.  It's become a piece of music I've added to marathon training run playlists and have listened to during my perfectly matched 21-minute commute.  The first movement is what I think joyful play sounds like, and the last movement is what I think of for triumphant.  And I had always wanted to but had never seen the New York Philharmonic live.  So this was already going to be perfect before the blanket of new concert hall celebrations came into play.  The concert hall renovation finished two years ahead of schedule and under budget.  It is beautiful and the city has buzzed about it for months.  The concert I attended was the first season opener.  The timing of all this felt like a gift from the universe or maybe just dumb luck. 

Another bonus was that my ticket included admission to a free pre-concert talk with three of the four composers on the program.  Two are Pulitzer Prize winners and the other had written a piece that would be world-premiered that evening.  They all spoke of their work and their background in the arts, what had led them to write the pieces we'd be hearing, and their joined excitement over the new concert hall.  I could sit wherever I wanted for the talk, so I took advantage and sat down low to get a different view of the hall.  

The opener was the world premiere of Oya', for light, electronics, and orchestra, which featured the capacity of the new concert hall to use lighting effects as well as surround sound tricks.  I enjoyed it, but didn't love it; I found the lighting a little distracting and disconnected from the music.  The piece did take advantage of the new acoustics and I was mostly honed into that.  

I had to study John Adams in college and grad school so hearing him speak was already really neat.  His piece, My Father Knew Charles Ives, was music inspired by family memories of New England, including memories of trips to Lake Winnipesaukee - a favorite of our little family.  It was my second favorite piece of the evening.  Adams is good at displacing sound where you hear layers of it coming and going, similar to what you might hear if you were listening to a parade going by in the distance against the music on your car stereo.  I honestly don't know how he wrote it.  I'd be curious to see the score to figure out how he brings in sounds against each other in this way.  

Tania Leon had premiered her piece, Stride just before the pandemic and they were picking back up with a reprise of it in this new season.  I was most impressed her with her speaking at the pre-concert talk.  She is very dedicated and grounded in connecting the arts to real life and history.  I happened to sit next to a woman who works for Composers Now, Leon's nonprofit organization elevating living composers.  Amy works in programs and initiatives for the nonprofit and says that Tania is just as much a delight to work with as to hear her speak.  She and I spoke about music in schools, the pandemic, and parenting.  I left our conversation not only more excited to hear Leon's piece but to also make a point to teach more about living composers in my classroom.  

And then, the Pines of Rome.  It was going to be my favorite of the night no matter the magic that was offered in the previous pieces.  It was almost a third-eye experience.  There are four movements, moving counter-clockwise around Rome's pine-tree-lined perimeter and it nods to Rome's history both forward and back in time.  The opening movement was swirls of joy with ratchety and shimmery percussion, glissandos, trills, happily taunting call and response, and contradicting rhythms.  I could even hear the harp in the actual moment and not just in the later recording.   It depicts the Pines of the Villa Borghese gardens at morning and suggests children playing the Italian equivalent of what we'd call "Ring Around the Roses".  The second movement about the catacombs depicts an afternoon in calm solemnity.  I mostly thought of how difficult the French horn part must be to play, as it was delicately beautiful.  The third movement, I Pini del Gianicolo, is a nocturne set on Janiculum Hill and the solo clarinet could not have played it more dream-like.  This is another instance where I'd like to study the score to see how similar the clarinet melody is to the horn melody in the second movement and the trombone and low brass melodies in the fourth movement.  I almost want to say they are borrowed from each other.  They have similar lifts and timing that I have to believe are intentional.  

Then it was the fourth movement.  I can't explain it, but I spent the entire last four minutes of it with tears streaming down my face.  I've only had such a reaction to arts twice before, where I was inexplicably moved to tears.  It depicts dawn, something akin to the sun rising and it's my favorite buildup in classical music.  I will never forget hearing it live, played by some of the world's top musicians.  It was such a refined, strong sound that it was inside your body.  I've never heard an ensemble more nuanced and balanced in both tone and timing; it was everyone respecting the group effort at every moment.  I'm not sure I can write more about it without sounding very cheesy like, "the strings soared" and "the brass marched on into the horizon" so I'll just leave it at the very moving, exciting finale to a grand event.  The entire room leaped to their feet for an almost three-minute standing ovation after the last note.  

I kept thinking, "this is what happens when you practice more."  Suddenly I regretted all those times I blew off practicing the perfect cymbal crash, after I heard one expertly performed at the strategic halfway point of the buildup.  I could've eventually played those glockenspiel parts if I'd only believed I could and practiced more.  I wondered if the clarinet soloist and the trombone section ever got nervous or completely doubted themselves.  They've probably been telling people they are a musician for much longer, and to people other than consignment shop employees.  

The concert ended and I spent at least ten minutes unable to leave the lobby because it would mean the experience was over.  I people-watched from a plush blue curvy couch and saw orchestra members greet family members and each other, small-talking like mere mortals.  An usher handed me a cookie with the "NYPhil" logo in icing which of course I can't eat yet.  When I finally walked out, I managed to get up my nerve to speak to a trumpet player who was walking by.  I congratulated him on a wonderful performance and told him my favorite had been the Pines of Rome but that I had also enjoyed Adams' piece.  He asked what I thought of the hall and I told him it was the best I'd ever heard music sound, which might really be true if I think hard about it.  I had a zillion other questions blinking in my head that I would've asked but he was with a friend who was very verbally adamant about going to a bar to get drunk.  I think the trumpet player was maybe in his 20s or early 30s at most.  I spent another brief moment contemplating my life choices as I thanked him and walked on.  

Hearing live music, particularly when it is excellent, makes me wonder how my life could've been different had I taken the more risky route of trying to perform.  But I truly have always wanted to teach ever since I was 13, so it's not a thought I dwell on often.  This concert definitely fulfilled my personality of "appreciating beauty and excellence" and I'm ranking it in the upper echelon of life experiences.  

View from rear side entrance. 

From left to right:  Deborah Borda, president and CEO of the New York Philharmonic, composer Marcos Balter, Pulitzer Winner composer John Adams, and Pulitzer Winner composer Tania Leon.  This was a treat to hear them speak about their work.  

Taken from the balcony of David Geffen Hall. 

Final applause.

More final applause. 

                                          

Couldn't leave without getting a few more pictures.  This was taken just before I ran into the trumpet player.  I tripped a bit walking down the stairs to talk to him and I made him laugh with my self-deprecating, "I can usually walk down stairs slightly better than that." 

More pictures along my walk back to the hotel.  

Soon-to-be ice rink in front of Rockefeller Center.

Rockefeller Center

Quilt patchwork type art made by local NYC schoolchildren and on display near Rockefeller Center.

***

After packing, my last morning included about an hour of free time which I turned into a mission for food, both for the present and the future.  I got a bagel in Hell's Kitchen.  I got an iced tea and a box of chocolate-almond pastries from a bakery to share with my family.  And lastly, I stopped at good ol' Schmackary's for a half-dozen box of cookies to bring home.  I could barely fit all this in my backpack but I managed and it was worth the bulky squeeze under the train seat in front of me.  I learned of Schmackary's through Caitlin during our stay in 2015 and I've even been known, as has she, to order a box shipped to my home in Virginia for such trivial events as my half-birthday with NO SHAME.  You should consider the same.  

***

TRIP #2!

My second trip began on October 22nd.  I tagged along with my sister-in-law Melina's trip to visit her sister who lives in the city and who recently had a baby.  I spent about half of this trip doing my own thing and the other half exploring with Melina.  My first trip was more musical-minded and this second one was more literary-minded.  

I got into the city around 2pm and immediately walked down the High Line, enjoying a few picture spots.  

View of the Whitney Museum.  Matt and I enjoyed a visit there during our baby-moon in July of 2016.  

Welcome to Little Island.  I saw a piece about this on CBS Sunday Morning and Matt reminded me that I'd be walking right by it on my way down to the hotel.  

View from the Little Island down on the main square with live music and food trucks and people-watching.  It was very crowded that afternoon which made me wish I didn't have my suitcase and backpack to lug around but I managed and got some good pictures of some cool vantage spots.  

View back to the Little Island from West Street.  

Very faintly in the distance is the Statue of Liberty and the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, the starting point of the NYC Marathon.  

Melina and I stayed in the Financial District near Freedom Tower, so I wandered a bit and took in some pictures.  

View out our hotel window.

Freedom Tower at night. 

I had a light dinner at Eataly nearby and found this colorful display delightful.  

Italian puff pastries.  Just enough.  Actually, no - not enough but I added dessert and that helped.  

***

Day Two of Trip Two started with an early lunch and some shopping in Little Italy.  Inexplicably, this is a non-explored part of the city for Matt and me even though we love Italy, Italian food, and I like shopping.  LI is adorable, friendly, and the food was amazing.  

I had a very cheesy pasta lunch at Gelso and Grand while reading a book and enjoying sweet tea.  Delightful.  

Wire lighted welcome to Little Italy.  

I then walked up near Washington Square Park to scout a few sights connected to famous writers.  Minetta Tavern has a past with Ernest Hemingway, Ezra Pound, E.E. Cummings, Dylan Thomas, and others.  I didn't go in but my peek through the windows indicated that the bar is beautiful.  

                                    

This house, also close to Washington Square Park, was where Louisa May Alcott finished writing "Little Women" from somewhere on the second floor.  I believe she started it somewhere else but this is where it was finished.  The house is unmarked but this is the correct address.  The house was built by her uncle.  And I love the part about Jo moving to NYC and then moving back home after not finding it conducive for her writing.  

OK, now the shopping.  I had the best time.  I bought the world's tackiest backpack that is black and white with "New York City" written all over it.  It's hideous fun and is now my new work bag.  I haggled the price down a little with the guy at the market on a corner in Little Italy.  Haggling - add that to the list of things I do only in NYC with some strange, otherwise nonexistent confidence.  I went into a chocolate and salt shop and purchased a pack of very fancy European drinking chocolate.  I found a boutique shop that played very loud, very younger-than-I-am music and ended up buying the two sexiest dresses I now own from a very attractive young woman wearing a cherry-dotted beret.  Then I headed to the West Village to check out a thrift shop that got a lot of buzz online, but when I arrived there was a long line to enter.  I found another one nearby but that ended up being a bust and I couldn't find anything interesting.  But the third one was a charm and I happily bought a lavender soft sweater tunic or maybe a dress depending on your preferred length and an adorable pair of white glassy dangle earrings that remind me of a pair that middle-school-me owned and loved.  

Keeping up with the literary mindset, I ventured to the East Village to check out Book Club on Third Avenue.  I got a ginger peach iced tea and perused the bookstore which was very crowded but very friendly.  I bought a book of short stories by Alice Munro that looks wonderful.  

That night, Melina and I had dinner at a Laotian food at Khe-Yo, a short-ish trek from the hotel.  It was my first time eating Laotian food - deliciously similar to Thai, which is my favorite.  

***

Day Three of Trip Two started with some errands for the new baby and then I got to meet him!  He is adorable and smiles a lot and I will live vicariously as he experiences childhood in the city.  

We had a late-breakfast of bagels and more iced tea before we headed out to our main destination of the day, the New York Public Library.  I had never been inside, neither had Melina, and I had planned to do a little bit of writing while in the city and this seemed it could be a good place.  

Outside from across the street.  The weather during this trip was much different, mostly cloudy and rainy.  But we didn't let that deter us from a very pleasant day.  

We first had a magical time at the gift shop.  I bought Arthur a "bookie cushion" which is a whoopie cushion bookmark.  Clever fun.  Melina got some things for her nephews, including a darling book for Arthur about the "Library Lion" which is so endearing that I tear up a little when I read it.  And I got a little coffee table book about NYC and a book called "Other Wordly" that defines and illustrates words and expressions from all around the world.  

Second, we took a self-guided tour of the exhibition "Treasures".  It was fascinating and lovely and I enjoyed every minute of it and I took way more pictures than I could possibly explain here without you all quitting after what I've already written but trust me on the fascinating factor.  

Charles Dicken's writing desk. 

T.S. Eliot's only draft of The Waste Land, with revisions by Eliot, Ezra Pound and the author's wife, Vivien Eliot.  This is the first lines of each of the five sections.  Eliot worked on this for seven and a half years and this draft was heavily guarded.  

This was a delightful find.  These are the stuffed animals of Christopher Robin Milne, son of A.A. Milne.  Winnie the Pooh, Eeyore, Piglet, Kanga, and Tigger.  

Inside one of the reading rooms where we rested and did some writing and reading. 

Back outside!  

One of the library lions.  

We then stopped for a joyous browse at McNally Jackson where we inexplicably bought MORE books before having dinner that night with Melina's sister and family at Crown Shy.  My favorite was the cocktail called a Radicle, with tequila, raspberry, rhubarb, habanero, cherry tomato, and lime.  It was the first cocktail of either NYC trip that I could taste every single ingredient.  We ate family style, enjoying a variety of things from the menu, particularly the octopus pasta and the sticky toffee pudding.  I had a great time and even wore my new lavender sweater tunic and new earrings.  

***

The final day, we had breakfast at a bakery and cafe and then went to the Morgan Library and Museum.  This had come up on my searches for literary-inspired places to visit and it was as gorgeous inside as the pictures showed.  It's an independent research library, originally the personal library of Pierpont Morgan. It was most recently expanded in 2006 to include a performance hall, new entrance, new reading room, new restaurant, and storage.  We saw a few of the exhibits and mostly enjoyed the main library room with its dark wood, ornamented books, and beautiful architecture.  

The library.  Gorgeous. 

The rotunda. 

Manuscript of Beethoven's last sonata for violin and piano. 

Illustration of Ashley Bryan for Langston Hughes.  

This was fascinating too.  Enheduanna, from Mesopotamia, which I haven't thought about since maybe freshman year in high school for a memorized fact on a test, was the earliest-named author in world literature.  This exhibit focuses on artworks showing shifting expressions of women from that time.  Spoiler alert: the whole "women be angry" over having to do everything?  That's been going on for a while.  

The first printed writing.  Chiseled on a tablet.  Life can always be harder.  

         

This decorative ceiling features 648 wrought-iron birds, each with a unique beak.  Fun to observe.  

Last look at Lady Liberty before leaving the hotel for the train station.

And here is the new Moynihan Train Hall.  Specifically missing, besides the escalator I like to ride up with dreamy-eyes, is the smell of urine and the sense of imminent danger.  There's a Magnolia Bakery, among other eateries, with its amazing banana pudding.  You also don't have to huddle together quite as closely to see which train platform you are going to, as there are multiple screens everywhere and the escalators down to the tracks are more spread out.  This was my last look at NYC life before boarding the train back home.  

So...pretty epic eight days of specific-to-Angie NYC joy.  I'm very aware this kind of time and experience combined don't often fall in one's lap and tilt my chin in grateful acknowledgment to the universe for opening up this much-needed soul-hugging space.