City Sights and Late Night Flights

Trip continued...

New York City- fantastic!  We walked the streets, checked out a few stores, ate picture-perfect food, and we sat and absorbed Battery Park on a perfectly temperate and sunny day.  Delightful is the word. 

Enjoying Battery Park on a perfect NYC day.

Balthazar

To recap- We woke up feeling perky and we got dressed and concluded that my choice of a brunch spot was the winner.  Balthazar on Spring Street.  I love the atmosphere... and the food is notable too!  We caught a cab there because my feet said "no" to that many blocks of walking and in ten minutes we were sitting and observing the cozy, yet bustling energy that really special city restaurants claim.  The feeling of walking in off a busy street and being sucked into a comfortable setting of pleasing light, toasty aromas, and the clinking of flatware and glasses is one of my first memories of New York City and I have really held that feeling close to me.  I captured it so well that I revisit it frequently.  Balthazar grants me that feeling. 


We sat at a table that was positioned so that we could see the SoHo streets and its walkers and riders.  We could see the booths filled with intriguing socialite type people eating eggs in 'silver cups' with mini spoons, something I adore seeing and refuse to do.  I am uber particular about eggs. And I am not fooled by calling something fancy or a delicacy... foie gras is not appealing to me considering that someone force-fed a duck until its liver exploded and they decided to serve it on a porcelain plate and label it special. That's nasty and cruel and shameful. The egg in a cup thing started from people copying English royalty's preferred manner of putting an egg in a cup and "beheading the egg" before eating it with trinket spoons. Louis XV should have recognized he was focused on beheading too much and creating a bit of bad karma.  (Actually they found egg cups in the ruins of Pompeii so it must have made sense to them also.)  The mirror above these socialite-esque, delicate egg eaters was aged and enormous and tilted downward so that the floor and action of waiters' feet, the daylight streaming through the windows, and even the people like us sitting at tables across the floor were reflected.  Nick immediately noted that this effect made him feel dizzy and like he was sitting on a ship.  Our waiter, who had only recently started working at the restaurant agreed and said he hadn't yet adjusted to that detail.  

Nick and the bread rack.

Not only was that feature of the restaurant worthy of talking about... there was a tall rack of bread on the other side of Nick's head and it was quite difficult for me to focus on his eyes as we were chatting about this and that.  It was crusty bread that begged to be clinched and broken and stuffed into a watering mouth to satisfy a starving tummy.  Fangs were forming- I was transforming and had to concentrate on remaining seated.  Deep down I wanted to hurdle Nick Olympic style and full body thrust myself into the bread rack.  I was imagining the loaves falling on me and me tossing them around like movie characters do so annoyingly with money. (I hate that. Who tosses money around on hotel beds? Count that shit and stash it! That's what I'm sayin'.)  Luckily for me, and Nick, the waiter returned with cappuccinos and our order was filled and placed at our table soon after.  Nick's choice: Omelette with Gruyere and Potatoes. My choice: Roasted Pepper and Caramelized Onion Quiche with Mixed Greens.  It was an appropriate start to the day and to our adventure that was going to be jammed full of deliciousness and ambiance.

For me!

For Nick!

For both!

After shopping in the standards like Banana Republic and Anthropologie (where I found the cutest journal- leather free!) we moseyed through Dean & Deluca to admire things like olives, chocolates, and the largest assortment of salt I've seen to date. 

Nick perched while I shopped.

Even Aveda made our shopping list as we thought it very important to not discriminate genres- mainstream retail to one of a kind boutique, clothes to food to shampoo.  We are equal opportunity shoppers. Hey, we even eyed a SoHo Psychic offering a 10 dollah special and considered it!  I took a peek in the door and there she was (the psychic) giving her reading at a round table draped in fabric (she was draped and so was the table) looking exactly as you imagine she would look- sans the crystal ball.  I walked out and giggled and we passed the offer.  Tempting, but no thanks.  I'll stick to John Edwards.  Who knows though... she probably has a 100% accuracy rate considering the real estate she keeps!  But, I could have told her my future and been correct.  I was beginning my trip of dreams and it was going to rock my world!  I was going to meet the city I want to live in.  I was going to cry happy tears simply because my body, my mind, and my soul was in a location on Earth that offered what they craved.  I was going to feed myself, all of myself, all of my senses and relish in every aspect of information I was bringing in being beyond my expectations of what I considered beautiful in life.  (That will be 10 dollah please.)

Salt selection at Dean&Deluca. 

Later in the afternoon, when we decided it was time to dine again, I sat next to some children eating sushi with chopsticks and enjoyed my mixture of greens and sprouts and all sorts of raw, probiotic goodies I didn't know how to pronounce.  It felt like life-giving richness with every bite.  Honestly, it was better than chocolate.  It met a need for organic, natural foods in my body.  The day was going to continue into the next without sleep and I was fueling up on the good stuff.  I admired the children by me too.  Their habits and healthiness was refreshing compared to so many kids filling up on fast, fried food. I nearly hugged them from pride, but realized how inappropriate that would be and smiled at them instead.

loving life!

After our day on the streets in SoHo and TriBeCa (where we tend to spend our days in NYC and usually stay) we headed back toward our hotel, Marriott Downtown in the financial district and right by the World Trade Center Buildings past and present, stopping to hang out in Battery Park first.  Here we yacht gazed, watched frolicking people, playful children, many runners, many dogs and lots of financial people going about their business.  We laid on the ground to absorb the weather like the New Yorkers and I played with a flirty butterfly.  Who outgrows that?  Nobody.  When they come a dancin'... join.  The butterfly's wing beat is like the human's heart beat.  Just ask Deepak Chopra.

Butterfly!

  

To the hotel.  Talk to this one, tip this one.  Talk to that one, tip that one.  Sit.  Retrieve bags, tip for bags.  Bag man hands bags to doorman, tip doorman.  Doorman hands bags to driver, tip, tip, tip.  Better have cash in the USA.  Jobs based on tips exist everywhere.  And I am a sucker and feel like a grade A ass if I have no cash.  That's my rap.  Eminem, you can have that paragraph.   
(But, I shouldn't have to write these words in a rhythm for him to know it's a rap, right? haha. I'm not afraid. (Hopefully you know I'm semi-quoting him.)       


The nicest man drove us to the airport from our hotel.  It's often easier to take a car, in this case it was a suv, rather than a taxi to the airport.  Especially depending on the time of day. I've experienced the taxi shift change exactly when I needed to get to the airport.  Not a good feeling.  I finally found an empty cab and the driver broke his rules and took me all the way out to the airport any way.  Wouldn't you know that on that occasion my flight was late, then later, then finally cancelled and I had to get another taxi to a hotel.  I went back to the SoHo Grand and they presented me with champagne (I think it's standard) since I was checking in so late and getting up so early and had that look on my face.  But, I gulped that sucker and walked the streets... they're always awake.  I also shared my table during that delay in the airport lounge with a Ford agency make-up artist that was trying to get to Miami.  He gave me the scoop on Oil of Olay's huge transformation prior to the marketing campaign.  It was interesting.  He also told me that jump roping was his biggest beauty secret. All in all, it wasn't a terrible evening.  Anyway, we chatted with this driver about how he lived in New Jersey and how he knew no one wanted to live in New Jersey, but the difference in real estate prices isn't a matter of wants for him.  He was pleasant and our commute was swift.  We exited the vehicle curbside and we were so early we cruised through to the security scare tactic area that I so vocally find absolutely wasteful seeing as it doesn't work- statistically- and only causes paranoia and cancer.  Get a couple of dogs and use metal detectors.  That will do the job better than these expensive and toxic machines that only fill orders for some Washington homeboy and his company.  They use K9s anyway on planes and when they are serious about finding anything.  In war they use them, in emergencies they use them.  They are the best.  They do not discriminate.  And they are intimidating.  A criminal cannot fool a dog because they sense and reason and use their intuition like a laser beam. Like I said in the entry prior to this that story-line-wise backs up to this one, the lad next to me at the gate found his kitchen knife in his backpack and almost threw up.  It was a mistake and here he was, dressed like a gothic punk, sitting on the other side of mostly uneducated, unreasonable, power-tripped-out "officials" that would lock him up for days and probably ruin his entire life with secret asterisks next to his name on his passport.  What was he supposed to do now?  He went to a police man, not the security man.  He tried to find someone who was hopefully trained in dealing with citizens in a respectful and peaceful way.  I should've kept up with him to see if he made it to his plane, but I got sidetracked with my own attempt at noise control from airport chaos.  Later I will give my international airport/customs review report.  Now, I'd like to remain positive, so I'll promptly board the plane with you.

Air Portugal!  It was splendid.
The stewardesses and stewards were over-the-top nice.  I had forgotten what that felt like on an airplane.  They used words like please and thank you very much and welcome.  We boarded when our zone was called and I watched Nick's seat-finding anticipation fizzle as we located our row and found.... the middle three seats of the plane... and he has the middle seat!  Hahaha.  I told him I'd win the aisle seat and I did.  I totally made him suffer too.  He sat down trying to invent room for his body and trying his best to laugh and not scowl at me.  He looked uncomfortable (understatement).  Then came the kicker.  Another Nick-like, young guy came to our row and confirmed his seat was the one on the other side of Nick's elbow.  You should have seen Nick's face when he turned to look at me.  He mocked what this guy was thinking aloud to me, "Really?  Really?  You're going to do that?  It's going to be you I sit by and not her? Nice."  His sarcastic tone is one of perfection, by the way.  I just shook my head as a reply saying, "Yeh, that sucks.  I hope you don't fall asleep on him."  Both of the guys formed a DaVinci 'V', leaning away from the other so obviously.  It was priceless and I made him sweat it out past take off and until I needed to use the restroom.  His glee over my offer to sit in the middle was cute.  The other guy on my left was nice too.  I gave him my chocolate bars that came with our dinner and we were friends from then on.  

More distinctions about this flight.  Europeans, from my experience in observing them, stand up and socialize on airplanes.  They do this and walk around for exercise and laugh and make friends.  No one tries to tackle them and demand they sit or else. And not only are the plane employees kind, but they give you wine and encourage many refills at no charge.  Then, they give you edible food!  I am a fan of Air Portugal.  Even though I did not sleep a wink and my feet had stingers in them (something I had never experienced before. ouch!) I liked the flight.  Their instructional videos were funny and instead of avoiding cliché's of certain personality types they poked fun at them and exaggerated them to make points while being funny and light hearted. I got the impression that no one was going to file a law suit too- that's a plus.

Sneaking sips from Nico's wine glass.

Fast forward to landing.  
Smooth  Easy.  Clapping all around.
Porto's airport was modern, clean, and hassle-free with pure water dispensers for your enjoyment. Little things like pure water go a long way, don't they?!

This is as far as I got in Portugal, unfortunately.  It was a connector.
I sat looking out at the runway and the docked planes with Nick by my side.  Neither of us had sleep and neither of us felt really tired.  The next stop was our most anticipated of all.  I was prepared to fall in love.