Obstacles

Best Laid Plans

(letter to my family from New York)

Hello, again, my beloveds: Happy Valentine's Day.

Having failed to get a table at the gorgeous little vegie Thai place Sara and I enjoyed last week, I've stumbled upon quite a different scene, a block east of the apartment, in St. Mark's Place. It's called Yaffa Cafe, has apparently been here for decades, and is open 24/7. It's set several steps below street level, and glows darkly red with the hundreds of novelty lanterns lining the walls and low ceiling. It's deep, narrow, bustling, and not remotely like the sohisticated, clean-lined, white Pukk restaurant at which I had planned to eat!

I'm actually glad the other place was full - I've been there already, after all! And this is certainly an experience.

It's clearly popular. If it were in Melbourne, it'd be in Brunswick Street... And yet... Everything seems amplified, here in New York. Bigger, wilder, more beautiful, often. And that's how this place compares with anything on Brunswick street. It's off the Brunswick Street radar!

I've just finished my Spinach and Brie crepe, and my glass of Prosecco. The table has been cleared and its red holographic laminex surface winks at me.

I had planned to eat in. But that'd be copping out, on Valentine's day, wouldn't it? So I climbed back out of the track pants I'd so gladly climbed into only an hour before, dolled myself up to the nines, and stepped out for a romantic evening on my own!

I'm learning that courage pays off.

I went to church again, this morning - it occurred to me that it should be okay to participate in church without being a committed Christian. Here it seems okay. Each time I've been, there's been a welcome to anyone who is visiting, and both times, the charismatic, young, female minister has said, "wherever you may be on your personal journey, we are honoured to have you here".

I've enjoyed both services - especially  the sermons, which I feel permitted to interpret as poetically as I like. It is such a novel thing: to enjoy church without feeling I must join the club!

Still, after the service, I swallowed my natural diffidence, lingered for coffee and enjoyed chatting to people.

Afterwards, I was sidetracked from my intended drawing afternoon by a wander through the 9th Street shops. There really are wonders to be found, here. A toy shop confronted me with an exquisite mobile of five captivating hot air balloons. They look like something from a period movie about an era where toys seemed magical and didn't require batteries. I am tempted. I'll see how my budget holds out.

And then an amazing clothes shop... Which I'll tell you about at present-giving time! ;)

Despite all these delights, and the gleaming day, my conscience was beating me round the head about my neglected drawing... So I went home, picked up my kit and plucked up my courage, and went to a diner on Second Avenue, wriggled my way into a corner table and drew what I could see outside.

It's only my second cafe drawing, here - it's too cold to work outside - and both times I've found the same thing: I can't sit where I can see what I planned to draw, so I must look at what's offered - which generally appears plain and unromantic - and find something within it to interest me. Last time it was the bra-strap visible under the teeshirt of the girl who blocked my view, and the Venetian blinds that all but finished the job. This time it was the graffiti on the New York fire hydrant on the sidewalk in front of me. Isn't it funny? I've ended up aproaching my New York drawings, by default, in the way I deliberately approach my work at home - by trying to find wonder in ordinariness.

Well, I've finished my chocolate soufflé, and perhaps I'd best free up this table for some Valentine's day sweethearts. The tattoed lovers to my right have gone, but the French trio to my left are still in earnest conversation. I don't understand a single word, but it occurs to me that I always assume, when I hear French people talking, that they are debating the comparitive virtues of the great philosophers.

On that note,

Bonne Nuit!(and all my love)

xxx

P.S. Went to the Frick yesterday, Mum: amazing! Loved the Vermeers especially. x