Back in A2

That’s it- I officially hate the NY subway system. How is a person supposed to know that certain lines don’t run on certain days? That some routes are re-routed and go somewhere else? My plans for brunch and a leisurely stroll through the street markets in West Village and Chelsea turned into more of an early lunch and brisk walk after spending almost 45 minutes underground boarding and re-boarding trains, crossing multiple platforms, and consulting and re-planning the route I had carefully mapped out last night… I was not happy.

But I suppose the inconvenience was forgiven as the rest of the afternoon unfolded. Brunch was lovely at The French Roast, a 24-hour French bistro on the corner of 11th St. and 6th Ave. Some website recommended it as one of the best places to have breakfast in the city, and it was nice indeed. I had the Croque Mousier coz it’s Jude’s favorite and it helped me to pretend that he was near. The sandwich was really good- wonderfully golden and fluffy Gruyere cheese and egg encased crusty bread and savory smoked ham. There was of course a nice mug of coffee that the bartender attentively topped up every time it got half-empty (yes, we who are eating alone must be acutely reminded of our alone-ness by being made to endure the profound anonymity of the bar…). There I sat for the next hour, reading The Namesake as I ate, listening to Nick Drake as his tunes wafted through the café. And what was the last song I heard before I left?- “Northern Sky”, and that made me smile :)

The street fair was interesting- some bits of it at least. For the most part, it was just stall after stall of people peddling overpriced costume jewelry, peasant blouses, sunglasses, on-site massage services and Latin street food. As a friend kindly warned, once you’ve seen one kebab stand, you’ve seen them all… What did intrigue me were the stalls selling textiles- from India, Mexico, Nepal, and Russia. I came really close to buying a tapestry/ rug thing, but it wasn’t cheap and the fact that it had been lying in the sun the whole day didn’t help its case.

So things ended well for the trip, made even more eventful by a strange twist of the airline cosmos that led to me being bumped up to first class without even knowing until I found my seat. Apparently the flight had been overbooked so they upgraded everyone in economy who’s a Northwest frequent flyer to first class. It wasn’t that big a deal on a domestic flight really - apart from the extra leg-room and seat space, they just serve you your drink in a glass instead of plastic, and generously offer you seconds of the nuts and pretzels I never take anyway…

Anyways, in summary, it’s been a trip defined less by the things I ate (*gasp* how shocking!), visited or saw, but more by feelings associated with specific moments- the dismay at not being able to shop at fresh markets like the ones I saw all over Chinatown; the claustrophobic disorientation of standing in the middle of Times Square; the giggly puzzlement as I stood in the drizzle outside Columbia’s Law School (a rather unimpressive building I must say…) trying to figure out if the statue is indeed of a man wrestling Pegasus; the blissful gratitude for tickets to Shakespeare at the Park, the subsequent perplexity at why they fashioned Jennifer Ehle to look more like a Blanche Dubois than a Lady Macbeth; the delight of watching the video of Andrea Bocelli and Elmo singing “Time to Say Goodnight”, the heartbreak of listening to Joan Didion talking about her husband’s death just moments after reading about another husband’s death in The Namesake; the anxiety and fleeting fear as I tried to make my way out of Central Park in the rain and dusk, and the persistent wistfulness of sitting on the hotel room bed every night wishing I were home.

So yes, I come back to the news that while we were both gone, the freezer door had been ajar, that everything in it save my treasured Italian espresso coffee, a pack of pandan leaves and the half bottle of Absolut Blackcurrant had gone bad, and we’ll probably have to spend most of tomorrow at the store replacing the food; but you know what? I’m still glad I’m home… :)