Stop spreadin' the news

Kerry and I spent four days and three nights (as they might say on Wheel) in New York City this week. It was the first time I'd been to New York for more than 12 hours, so I was thoroughly entranced. Kerry had a good time, too, in spite of the fact that it was cold.

As is our wont, we dove into museums. We were absolutely impressed by the American Museum of Natural History, Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the Museum of Modern Art. Watching all these school kids traipsing through the museums, I realized what a distorted view you must get growing up in New York. The first time you go to a museum in all but a handful of other cities: "Sorry, I can't seem to find the Picasso rooms." "You have no mummies!?" "Oh yes, of course your diorama of dinosaurs is... impressive."

We saw two shows: Rent and Shockheaded Peter. Rent was entertaining, though I thought the second act fell far short of the first. We saw Shockheaded Peter based on reviews I saw in the New York Times and somewhere else. I don't have time to describe it well, but it's more of a play with musical numbers interjected than a musical. The theme is unusual and amusing - children perishing of their bad habits, like fidgeting at the dining table - but the whole production didn't really click. Seeing it second, it made me appreciate Rent more.

One day we went on walkabout downtown. We started at the World Trade Center site, headed to the Hudson, and walked down to Battery Park. Then we turned north, stopping to use the bathrooms at the architecturally impressive Smithsonian Museum of the American Indian / former Customs House. We walked through the narrow canyons of Broad and Wall Street, seeing a frenzy over a table of silk ties on sale for $1 each. We continued to the South Side Pier on the East River, with its great view of the Brooklyn Bridge. Less than ten minutes further, we were in Chinatown, where dumb luck took us to the Harmony Palace (I think), serving mysterious and tasty dim sum. Then Little Italy, SoHo, and after a slight detour courtesy of an error in the AAA Guidebook, Washington Park.

We spent an evening with my cousin Kathy and her husband Ron, bona fide New Yorkers who have lived in a west side apartment for over 25 years. Thanks to Aunt Ann for connecting us, I saw Kathy for the first time in 28 or so years. (She looked just the same.) She and Ron graciously hosted us for some wine in their home, then took us a great Cuban restaurant, Calle Ocho, for dinner. A great time, and I hope to see them again before I'm 59.

One last food note: As Kerry would be delighted to tell you, I've eaten roughly the same breakfast for about ten years: cheap-ass, generic corn flakes with golden raisins and a banana, and orange juice. (We'll ignore some variation in the accompanying breads.) If I lived somewhere where toasted bagels, piled with delicious cream cheese, were sold with a coffee for $1.50 on every street corner, I might change my ways.