Contemplative Sunday

I remember back when I used to work (yes, this was such a  long time ago), the worst time of the week was not Monday morning or Wednesday afternoon, but Sunday evening. Those were the times when I would sit there and think  about the tough week awaiting ahead for me, brood over my self-perceived problems and bathe in self-pity (this Adele who I recently discovered can provide a good background music for this mood). Now, that I am a free spirit, Sunday  night is actually great because it is full of anticipation towards a lively week , full of changes and new opportunities that cannot arise during the week.  A new appreciation has been gained towards Sunday nights. At least for the meantime.

A few days ago, the AC in my house broke down. With 36C or 98F in the shade, this sure was not fun. I lay there half dead on the couch, watching the dog in liquid state half dead on the floor, worrying about the technician dying outside while fixing the thing when I really started to miss NYC. True, the heat on the subway platform kills, everywhere is crowded and dirty but at least one has so many great places to escape the craziness and enjoy the amazing summer. I started fantasizing about a perfect day in the city.

My day in NYC

I would wake up in the morning (not too early, of course). Walk to Aroma Espresso Bar on 72nd and Amsterdam for a great brunch of eggs, vegetables and their amazing bread. Then I would walk through the park, not missing the Sheep Meadow and maybe walk by one of the lakes, perhaps stop over to take some pictures or read my book. Then I would take the train to Prince Street and roam around Soho. Then drift to Thompson and go to Hiroko’s Place which I discovered last summer when all my other favorite coffee shops in the area closed down all of the sudden.  I took a real liking to this place as I went there just a couple of months after visiting Tokyo which I absolutely loved. The waiters at Hiroko’s are Japanese, dressed in chic-schoolgirl style. They even greet you with a “irashaimase” when you enter the place. Most of the customers are normally authentic Japanese as well. I don’t know if they might be tourists. The menu is kind of strange for me at least, as they serve proper food and The bookshelf at the cafe is full of Japanese magazines I obviously cannot understand. All and all – I look like I don’t fit in at all at this place and this is part of what makes it cool. I can pretend I am in Japan while I am sitting on a little white couch and reading my book in the heart of Soho.

The selection of great coffee shops is one of the things I miss the most about NYC lifestyle.

So after spending a couple of hours at Hiroko’s, I would meet a friend and we’ll go roam around some more, maybe window shopping, maybe visit some street market. The evening will commence with a dinner at one of my favorite places such as Twelve Chairs or Gigino’s in Tribeca. Or  maybe we will go to a concert, an off- Broadway show, Night at the Museum and finish with some great Salsa vibe at Oliva’s in Lower East Side.

Oh my lovely Manhattan, how I miss thou!!

p.s. this post has been written after a prolonged exposure to Starbucks coffee and should be read keeping in mind the resulting relative instability of the writer.

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