the apple isle

After another night's rest in the Hostel of the Clanking Pipes (the central heating featured quite the echoing acoustic accompaniment and performed both its aural and thermal duties with excessive enthusiasm. The first night we didn't realise the window could open - yes yes I know, between us we may have attended uni for about twenty years, but that doesn't mean the occasional detail doesn't skip gaily past - and I woke up with the conviction that we could grow papayas in here to the sound of iron-soled clog dancers performing on a tin roof, not the best start) and went in search of breakfast. Which we found, and was okay, at least with somewhat better coffee. But was one of those places that uses disposable everything, and so had a definite moment of understanding what Gore is ranting on about when looking at disposable plate, cups, cutlery - when you are eating in for goodness sake. And the mountain of napkins that you get every single time you order any comestible item. Now, I know that I spill coffee copiously and often, but I don't think my fame actually precedes me on that score (or, for that matter, on any other, being imaginary) so it can't just be me. And anyway, a poncho would surely be more appropriate for my coffee "moments".

So then we headed off to look at more art, again, happily via Central Park. We had to wait at the Whitney to open so I got a truly awful coffee. And someone else spilled it on me, and then after cleaning it up, spilt it again, so somehow my gift is attracting other people to spill coffee on me. Quite strange. The Whitney giftshop is quite good. I then went to look at their exhibitions and after about 45 minutes realised my eyes were still tired from the previous day, so it was a bit of a trudging visit. The current exhibition of Modernism in American art, looking at the different expressions of it - not just photography and Abstract Expressionism but the broader context - was interesting, but I couldn't quite grind my brain up to speed. Then a Kara Walker exhibition - another Kara Walker exhibition - she's currently being exhibited at the Fogg, the Met and the Whitney, so the word overexposed does come to mind, especially seeing as the Fogg and the Met are exhibiting the same series and all three feature the same device (19th century-style black silhouettes). And then an exhibition of the past two years of acquisitions by the Whitney, in which the most interesting thing that I saw was Adrian Grenier. I'm a fan of Entourage, so I was very excited. And proceeded to "coincidentally" have exactly the same path through the exhibition as he did. Managed not to drool forth my enthusiasm for his work, instead keeping my stalkerage to a silent one. He's smaller than I thought.

Then we went shopping in Soho! Yay! New jeans! And enough clothes so that I wouldn't have to do any laundry before I left. We trudged homewards at about 6.30, intending quite an early night, but came across a cosy looking bar, a dumpling house and a movie theatre in immediate proximity to one another so ended up having an excellent night. The best martini that I have ever had [haaaaaaapppppy place], then 'Martian Child', the new John Cusack film, which, possibly as a result of the basin of gin I had just consumed, I did enjoy, and then a pleasing repast of steamed dumplings and grilled salmon.

Monday, after the Clanging Pipes Ensemble performed their nightly routine, our time was limited as my friend had to return to Boston, so we sallied forth to consume further quantities of flimsily constructed coffee and then visit the Natural History Museum. Which truly has an impressive dinosaur in the lobby, and there's so few places about which you can honestly make that comment, isn't there? It's a refreshing change. After the lobby we went to the gift shop, which is fantastic, over two floors, I spent more time in there than in the musuem. Some good christmas shopping was done and a shirt acquired for a Small Person who Enjoys Dinosaurs. After that we looked at stuffed mammals. The American ones were very interesting. Has anyone heard of the 'Fisher'? Kind of weird to come across whole species of mammal that you have never even heard of. Baby skunks! Cute!

Then the return trip to Port Authority, and a sad farewell :(

I consoled myself with an enormous piece of cheesecake. It was vast. And had rasperries, chocolate and hazelnuts in it. So tasty. And a wander around Time Square. I checked out what was playing that night and discovered: very little. Apparently my visit was the time in which the stagehands decided to strike. I'm all in favour of the plight of the worker and all (I mean, of easing the plight of the worker, not that they should be further enplightened), but timing people, timing. Still, at least people can still strike in America, and they aren't only offered the option of "go get another job" if the one you have isn't working out. Because that's always just so easy isn't Tony, you self-satisfied, sharp-faced prig of a man. Not everyone wants to be a miner. [ahem. rant over. well, paused.]

Then I went on a Quest. I wanted on particular toy, from one particular toy shop. Unfortunately I misremember the location of the shop, and spend a long time walking in the wrong part of town, until I eventually get directions from someone who I will maintain a small candle of appreciation for until the day that I die, and then the store is sold out. Gah. Grumpy pants firmly in place, I went ... downtown! Where all the lights are bright! More dumplings. aaaah. Happy. And a shirt with trees on it. Also, more shoes.