The past few weeks have been a whirlwind. I flew to New York. It was my first time in the city by myself and staying for longer than a few nights. In the past, I have only ever been for long weekends with Anthony; or travelling through with my parents – though that was many moons ago. My official excuse for the trip was work – I had a few meetings and so forth. But I was also happy to catch up with friends. And I was able to view my cousin’s exhibition at a gallery in the East Village. She is a crazy talented artist and I was so proud to see her work in all its full glory – I can’t help but boast about it just a little.
I found a little time to sneak into my favourite vintage store – only to discover that the owner is headed to Venice on holiday later this month, so we chatted about where to go and what to do. And before I knew it, a whole afternoon had gone by. I ate at some exquisitely good restaurants (oh, the food in New York!): Buvette, Estela, I Sodi, Reynard, and another adorable little place that I can’t remember the name of – but the sugary bomboloni are still vivid in my mind. Then I flew back home with a suitcase full of cinnamon babka (from Russ and Daughters) and tiny toy cars, for Anthony and Aeneas respectively. Though I wouldn’t be honest, if I didn’t say that all three of us enjoyed the babka.
Once home, I was swept up in the mad rush that is the opening of the Art Biennale. Venice, as you know, is a quiet, sleepy town – by ten o’clock the streets are empty. I can hear the water lapping in the canal below as I doze off to sleep, and when someone walks past our front door late at night the sound of their heels clipping on the paving stones echoes into my bedroom – like the booming tic toc of an old grandfather clock. It is a city so quiet that suitcases rolling down the streets sound loud: the council is threatening to implement a ban, as they have received so many complaints. True story. [Read more…]