Woo-Woo Doo-Wah-Diddy

I get into NYC yesterday around 3 PM. A drop-dead gorgeous day, temp in the 70s, leafy lacy shadow patterns in the green grass of the park along 5th Ave. My hotel, the Marakech, a Moroccan-themed hotel at Broadway and 103rd turns out to be, shall we say, quirky. Finally I hit the streets, looking for food. I end up by Carnegie Hall and wander over to see who’s playing. At this point I’m pretty tired and haven’t connected with the city yet. An elegantly dressed Russian lady comes up and asks in a thick accent if I have tickets to sell. It’s Anna Netrebco and Dmitry Chvonostovsky, soprano and baritone, she says, sold out. I see that the Emnerson String Quartet is playig the next night. Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven. Oh boy! The energy of the city kicks in and I’m off. When it’s good it’s very very good. Who might want to go the next night, I think to myself, well, I know my friend Elise from California is in NYC, maybe I’ll contact her. 20 minutes later I run into Elise on a corner on 7th Avenue, I mean, what are the chances of that happening in a city of 8.2 million people? Cosmic stuff. I’m on a roll the rest of the night. I end up having a fabulous meal at Trattoria Dell’Arte on 7th and 56th. When I walk in a little Jewish lady is saying to a friend, “I haven’t been heah in yiz.” Food, ambiance, decor, and staff are tres cool. As in many NY restaurants, people are tightly packed and there’s a lot of back-and-forth discussion. You hear nearby couple’s conversations clearly. It’s intimate, a feature of eating out in Manhattan. I end up having an great discussion with a TV producer from LA sitting next to me at the bar, a smart and savvy guy, and talking to all the waiters since I’m sitting at the bar where they pick up drinks. It’s a warm night and after a magic glass of grappa, I wander the streets, reveling in the city, shooting pix. Kansas this ain’t.