Nueva York

Yeah. So I'm went to Brooklyn...and also, I did a lil' Manhattan trip.

So what have I done with my sisters and mother, beyond a LOT of eating? Some walkin' and then, well, some more eating.

It all began innocently enough, with a two day, 800 mile road trip through the Eastern Portion of our nation, skimming quickly through Indiana, resting in Ohio, and then galavanting through Pennsylvania, all while mocking New Jersey. Upon our arrival in Brooklyn, I was excited to see Park Slope's european-style grocery stores and little shops, and to see homes that reminded me of Lincoln Park-- Oh, yeah, seeing my sister for the first time in a long time was cool too.

Well, Brooklyn was a steaming pot of music, food, and people. Apparently its the time to Celebrate Brooklyn, so while walking through Prospect Park we stumbled upon a dance performance, and a whole group of real Brooklyners, although not a single celebrity. I have never walked upon a street that was both well dressed and not intimidating. People here try more, but not in an annoying/scary way. There are lots of people on skateboards, lots of people wearing skinny jeans and big Nikes, lots of people wearing mom jeans in a cool way, but also lots of people wearing mom jeans in a bad way. I think, the thing here, is that there is everything, be it racially diverse and integrated (especially in comparison to Chicago) to stylistically diverse. Some people are dreadfully outdated, and some people are dressed like they walked straight out of a Nylon magazine. Also, some people are doing both simultaneously, but thats a whole other story. All in all, its pretty awesome. And there was ice cream, the classic ice cream man serving soft serve from the corner, parked so oddly in front of a hospital, waiting the arrival of not only children, but adults of all ages and sizes, to offer a soft, creamy escape from the city sun.

Then we went to Manhattan. A previously scheduled meeting at the NYU School of Art Conservation went well, although it ended up being mildly redundant. A scamper from 78th Street and Park Avenue, led us all the way down to 35th Street, right near Penn Station. The day started beautiful and cool, a crispy morning that turned into a soggy afternoon. The rain piled on us around 56rd and didn't stop until 40th or so. We went to a few shops, looked into the windows of many a bakery, and visited the Frick Gallery(earlier in the day, its on 7oth or so), which had a small but very strong collection. The highlight was three Vermeers, but I also liked the Goyas, three in total, spanning his earlier works of royalty and his later works of regular Spanish life (my FAVORITES! I just love the brutal paint handling, the nervously taught forms, the use of such murky grays and desperate crimsons!).

Picking up another sister on 53rd, we meandered through a surpsrisingly large amount of bead stores and finally found ourselves in a bar of a hotel watching the opening ceremonies of the Olympics. Although impressed with China's massive amount of people, at around eleven o'clock we managed a stumble back to Brooklyn (not drunk at all, but very tired). The next day would be all about our newest favorite Borough.

Waking early in the morning, my mom and I walked over to a bakery and bought some fresh baked croissants and empanadas (ah, the culture blending of America, oh so gracefully done by New York!) and then over to an Italian grocery runs by Spanish speaking men selling fresh bread and French Goat Cheese. After a hearty breakfast, we walked, and oh did we walk, all up 7th Avenue, perusing small boutiques, stumbling upon a flea market and eating some shaved ice Real shaved ice, a man with a huge brick of ice literally scrapped away for each of our dollar servings. We had coconut flavored and mysterious-orange-colored-tastes-kind-of-
like-dulce-de-leche-although-the-guy-selling-it-called-it-vanilla-flavored ice. It was great.

Then we went to the Brooklyn Museum, and something terrible happened. Although known for its collection of Japanese prints, particularly the fact that they have ALL 100 of Hiroshige's One Hundred Views of Edo, nothing was on display. NOTHING! The book was for sale in the gift shop, but the prints? No where to be seen! One, non-Edo Hiroshige print could be found in a corner of the museum, but in the context of American Japonisme, and without the infamous coloring of Hiroshige's work! Oh the TORTURE! I guess I am still recovering. The did have Judy Chicago's The Dinner Party, that is a bit to Feminist for me, but still pretty impressive to see in real life.

More wandering followed, and a stop at a coffee shop/wine bar/chocolate store followed. Whoever came up with this combination was a true genius, just for clarification. A dinner of delicious Indian curries and veggies followed, and a long food induced coma/sleep came next.