It is obvious for the New York City outsider to get nervous while taking the subway.  Nothing has really prevented me from doing what I’d like to do.  Improv has helped my confidence significantly.  I took the N Train to 57th and 7th, because I was meeting Cole and Becky and the kids out at the Museum of Modern Art, or MOMA (of course).  This is a new museum for me, so my excitement skyrocketed when the plans were set.  I ventured in the rain, which was falling lightly, walking confidently without an umbrella.  Manhattan in the rain is fitting.  The city is more thrilling in the rain, and it eased my nervousness.  I took the wrong subway exit, but I found my way.  There was a cloak of confidence with my walking around.  My hands were never in my pockets, and my feet never stopped moving.

Going into detail about all of the art viewd isn’t necessary; Matisse, Pollock, and Picasso were amongst several others.  It was definitely inspiring.  So, how about some pictures?  You’ve seen them on my social media outlets already, but for those who have not:

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The couple’s kids entertain themselves very well.  Una was creating shadow puppets while Due painted a digital piece of art.  They express high interest in the pieces of art, and they keep tabs on and take care of each other, which is perfect.  I’ve said it before, I hope my kids are this great.  Una was teaching me how to make noises, which I am still trying to perfect today.  If I wasn’t in a public place, this thought provokes me to practice, it would be less obscure for me to clap my hands in front of my face.

After the museum, we ventured around, passing through Manhattan and other favorites (Rockefeller Center and Times Square).  Being asked what I wanted to to, the typical response uttered from my mouth was nothing touristy.  Of course, not living in this city, it was probably already obvious that I wasn’t from there.  I came to accept that acting like a tourist, whether or not you are one, its the thing to do.  Judging by the pictures above and below, it is obvious that the stick was pulled out of my ass.  One can only wish that they could see and do everything, but it’s damn near impossible.

It’s okay to act like a tourist.  It’s when you start to criticize yourself you stand out more.  People can smell the insecurity emitting off of you.  Resident New Yorkers have everything to see at their fingertips, so the tourists do as they do.

Aside, I perform improv.  Second guessing myself should not happen.

The five of us went to Sapporo for lunch, chowing down on ramen and sipping soup.  It was delicious, not overly salty, and–of course–not as salty as the packaged stuff you can buy at the store.  It was great to eat Japanese, because it had been a while since the last time I had it.

Pictures with the asterisk below them were taken by Rebecca.

 

{Atlas, proud, at 30 Rock}

{Cole and I, but reversed}
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Next stop:  Brooklyn.

{Ample Hills Creamery}

{Rebecca and I, scarfing down ice cream}
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{Outdoor Nook at At Home In Brooklyn}

Walt Whitman wrote in his “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry,” that “…I too lived, Brooklyn of ample hills was mine…” to fittingly pertain to the creamery that we went to.  The homemade ice cream was amazing.  I enjoyed a single, which is a double scoop of whatever you’re craving to try.  My choices:  Ooey Gooey Butter Cake and (if I remember correctly) Toffee Bar Crunch.  Rebecca opted with the Cookie Au Lait,  Visit the website at the link above, below my black and white photo, and check out the flavors.  The creamery is definitely a local favorite, and it has a local state of mind.  You cannot go wrong with that.

I love Brooklyn.  I spent the first time in Brooklyn six years ago, or so, and I fell in love with her.  It was the first time I met Cole’s family, who outdid themselves with hospitality.  I met their friends in a park outing, where there was a local band playing folk.  The friends took me right in.  The bars, the restaurants, the bookstores, and the coffee shops–everything added up.  I was still dizzy from reading into the blogger eating at Dinosaur Bar-B-Que in Brooklyn, reading into it appropriately as I could.  It pays to listen.

The home where I initially stayed is now an incredible and recognized bed and breakfast:  At Home in Brooklyn.  Please see the link above.  I highly suggest this already recognized B&B, if you are to stay in New York.  You’ll get great service, and you’ll never want to leave.

Brooklyn is busy, but elegantly quiet and tranquil.

Becky and I stopped at a bookstore, because it’s hard not to, and she captioned the picture with a statement, which is closely associated with Serendipity–Jeremy Piven’s torment of John Cusack’s character’s obsession with going into used bookstores, trying to find something that he knows is there but would probably never find, forced.  It’s true.  I cannot resist a used book store.

Becky and I stopped at a new cafe/restaurant, which she did not recognize.  The young woman behind the counter–she greeted us with a softly graced beaming smile–was from the Utica/Camden area, which was fun to talk to a Central New York native, who just simply moved.  Her blond hair, was pulled back and a couple strands fell in front of her face–on the pale side, but a natural beauty–as she multitasked behind the counter.  The name of the venue slipped my mind, but it is something along the name of Stocked Pot.

Becky and I called it a day, so she brought me back to Astoria, which was a very kind gesture.

To sum up my overal experience, I will leave you with this, readers:  the last handful of lines from Whitman’s “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry.”