Monday, April 8, 2013

Farewell NY, hello Santa Monica

7 April - Farewell New York!

What a wonderful week we've had in this fantastic city - we've had our senses absolutely filled to the brim having seen so many of the Masters' works at the MoMA and The Frick; we've laughed till we cried at "The Book of Mormon"; we've filled our tummies with spaghetti and linguini seafood dishes from our local restaurants ... we will never forget Kramer (although he told us his name is Tomas), standing in front of Pellegrini's restaurant in his expansive calf-length black fur coat imploring us in his broad New York accent, "Ladies, come for lunch ... come back for dinner ... free wine for you all!"  "You'll be sorry!" I replied.

Thelma and I went to explore some bars and found the magnificent Pegu Bar.  When in Manhattan ... well, we just had to have a Manhattan. "Mixologist" Audrey Saunders, has supposedly revived the art of the drink at this upstairs cocktail joint.  "Pegu" has been named after a late-19th century British officers club in Burma - why I don't know.  The barman made a huge show of producing our cocktails - something that probably needed to be videoed, but he was a bit annoyed when Thelma took a photo, even though I had previously asked if it was okay to do so ... scotty New Yorker!  The house cocktails are all made with fresh juices and ingredients and it was truly fabulous to watch them being crafted.  A special of the Pegu is the Gin-Gin Mule, spiced with homemade ginger beer, all the way to The Old Cuban, a champagne mojito and a cute play on words, they also make an infused Earl Grey MarTEAni!


Our Manhattans at the gorgeous Pegu Bar.
Louise is sated after filling her suitcase with a new winter wardrobe.  Thelma and I are yet to do any damage in that department, so roll on Camarillo Outlets in LA!

Our flight out of JFK was an early one so we were up at frog’s fart getting sorted, and packed ourselves into a yellow cab at 7 am.  Then of course come the long lines (queues) to get through security – it’s one time you wish you weren’t a few more years older, the 75 year olds don’t have to take their shoes and belts off!  There’s the usual screening, then the x-ray screening, then the pat-down by the burly officer outside the screening booth. Then comes the scramble to get your luggage off the conveyor belt, the phone and incidentals out of one box, the laptop out of another box, your shoes out of another box ... all the while being hurried along by the impatient ones following.  Aahhh! The joys of travel – but I’m not complaining, true!

The flight across the States took forever ... we flew out at 9 am and arrived here at 3.30 pm.  A 6 1/2 hour flight without food - the joys of travelling with Delta Airlines.

We’re staying in a private home once again, in Santa Monica.  It’s very comfortable but typically doesn’t have a kettle – these Yanks drink coffee and have coffee percolators and dripolators and espresso machines, but no kettles - so we’ve had to resort to boiling water in a saucepan (if we can find one – they eat out too so that’s been a challenge in two of the three places we’ve rented).

We walked into Santa Monica and watched the beautiful people down on the boardwalk primped and preened for a Sunday night pose. The weather was mild with a cool breeze blowing across the Pacific.  Totally famished, we found “Buddha’s Belly” and enjoyed some gyoza and salmon and fresh veggies for dinner had a poke around in Nordstrom’s then it was time to head home.

We grabbed the #2 Blue Bus to take us back to 24th street. But we didn’t have any $1 notes or coins – and the machine didn’t give change and we didn’t want to put a $20 or $50 note in the machine, and the driver was getting very cranky.  I probably didn’t make his disposition any better because I wouldn’t run across the major intersection to catch the bus against the red light – Thelma and Louise did and managed to dodge the traffic – and then they dilly dallied while on the bus trying to delay it until I could get there.  The lights changed and I made the dash across the road and onto the bus – only to find that none of us had the right money!  “I’m not a taxi” he said, “I’m not paid to wait”!  Laugh!  A lovely young girl who was born in Tennessee, raised in New York, and now lives in Santa Monica gave us two $1 notes, we scrounged around in our wallets and between us, managed to get four quarters for the third fare, and by then, we were at 24th street!  







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