|cooking when the power goes out|
|just no end to snow|
Yay! I'm finally have something "travelley" to write about again. Not many travel posts lately, weather keeping me staying put. Enough with the mountains of snow that surround the house! Let us escape the mid-winter Maine blues and sloppyy igloos and travel (by car) to the Big Apple for a little, how you say, cultchah infusion. Specifically, the mindblowingly magic Matisse show at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, (runs through next Sunday, 3/17, so hurry!) Mind you, getting there was no picnic. What was predicted as "light rain and snow, no more than an inch" (pdp for New Englanders) developed into something of an unexpected whiteout from Portsmouth, NH all the way through Mass., beyond Boston all the way to the junction of 90 and 84. White knuckle driving, cars off the road, miles and hours of unplowed roadway. Thank god P's an experienced snow driver, so there was that, but a few hairy moments for sure. We had one rather sketchy near miss that, unfortunately for the other guy, turned into a small spin of a disaster. (He failed to look before changing lanes.) But we made it to the wonderful Pod39 hotel by cocktail hour, but not before getting lost in Queens near La Guardia, finally managing to ooze our way onto the Queensboro bridge with the rest of the rush hour crowd (I'm a decent co pilot, after all) and land in Manhattan. It was actually kinda cool.
|entrance to Grand central and what used to be PanAm bldg, now Snoopy's company|
You ask me, Matisse is The Man, his work gets me where I live, and I've seen bloody little of it up close, so Saturday morning as I walked up Fifth to the museum (tickets bought in advance online) my heart was afflutter. It felt like I was actually headed to a meeting with the man himself, truly. Off season midwinter tourist travel is great: crowds are limited, even on weekends. As I wandered through the exhibit, reading the info posts, all studious and everything, like you do, I unexpectedly found myself in Matisse's large paintings of "Nice" (as in Nice, France), sudden tears filled my eyes as I confronted that gorgeous work, the view from his hotel window, overlooking the Sea, the palm trees, the classic swirl of wrought iron French railing a la fenetre. And the light! The color! Hysteria loomed. I actually thought for a moment I might lose it entirely, no tissue handy, so moved was I by it all. By the passion, the sheer intensity, that shone in the work. What a treat.
It's completely insane to think you can see anything of what the Met really has to offer in a day, so we breezed through of a few other galleries, some of our faves. I was briefly taken with some Faberge eggs, (and don't we all wish we had one of those cunning little babies to get us though difficult times? Clearly the czars were onto something there).
|faberge eggs: oo la la|
|the Met: shades of Moonstruck?|
|Sunny day, central park looking north|
|interior central cafe|
|upstairs @ Pod hotel, charmante!|
|@ MOMA a work of hand-collected pollen|
Lively eateries worthy of mention: The Breslin (best Caesar salad I've ever had) and the John Dory Oyster bar (I finally got to sample urchin roe, and fermet). And once more thanks to Kate and her buddies for making those evenings so special for us.
I didn't get to pick up my cheesecake on 8th ave. : ( Probably best since I got the first (in months) full length glimpse of my derriere in our hotel room. Nothing walking the city all day wouldn't cure in time .. that is until I got the pastry shops wired.
New York New York, so nice they named it twice!
|East River view from the excellent POD39 roof|
|til next time, up on the roof|
post script: back home, it's rainy and cold out . No doubt one of those Fabere-zhay eggs would warm me up a bit....