It is seriously odd, discombobulating to be in a city so besieged by problems that is, at the same time, so very normal. I suspect this is being a tourist. We carry on in a perfectly ordinary touristy way by going the museums and then we come home and see the news of the destruction, its affect on people so devastating that it is beyond comprehension. It’s very difficult to make sense of anything. How will people take the warnings of climate change when their lives are in ruins.
Today the saddest most glorious sight was the snow so heavy on leaves of ginkgo trees and to see them splayed on the ground. No camera so no picture. We went on the M4 bus for over 100 blocks and saw so much of the city covered in snow. One guy on the bus was obviously a street artist. The driver said when he got off equipment loaded into his backpack. “Now don’t get caught.” I regretted not talking to him. He was a professional off to work or to mess up a building site depending on your point of view.
We got off the bus at the Metropolitan to a mass of people. Were they really all speaking French? You learn many things by travelling. One is about what you wear. Today it was pretty much everything I’d packed because it was bloody cold. I said “You must getting bored with my clothes, I am alternating two tops.”
“You always look great.” my adorable husband said. So why did I bother with all that other stuff?
At the Metropolitan Musem we were gobsmacked by Bernini’s terra cotta maquettes. And got waylaid by the Carreveggios en route to the Warhol exhibit. Somehow we never made it.
It’s another and time is closing in. The sun is out today, the snow almost gone at sunrise. And I can feel the humming of a city that is calling me. We will try for The Cloisters again. If this is a trip to see old friends in old museums, I want to see the tapestries here once more. But mostly I’d like to wander around and among New Yorkers going about the business of living among greatness.