We are off home tomorrow. It’s been another wonderful trip to New York, our eighth. I think back to 2010 when we first visited this city. We were clueless. We just followed our nose and progressively discovered, explored, learned, researched, understood and now today, became quite accustomed to how things work. This familiarity hasn’t brought with it any contempt. We love the city and are very lucky to be able to visit almost every year. We work hard during the year and set things up so we can get three weeks away. The time away we cherish, we value and we very much enjoy.
And today is another joyful day. I get out and go for a walk. About 40 blocks. I never get bored and just enjoy walking, drinking in the city, the sounds, the smells, the sights, the characters. Today’s character is a saxophonist on 5thAvenue across the road from St Paul’s. I stop and listen to his easy playing. I approach him and he extends a scarred and greasy hand.
“Howdy champ”
“G’day”
“Where you from?”
“Australia”
“Austria?”
“Australia, mate, down under”
“Never heard of it!”
“Really? Aussies, Crocodile Dundee?”
“Nope.” Then a smile spreads wide across his face. “Sydney Harbour mate, Meat pies. Footy. The Gold Coast. Drop Bears. Vegemite.” He continues to rattle off Aussie icons as he cackles to himself, knowing he’d sucked me in.
“Can I photo you playing?”
“Of course mate, music is the universal language.”
“Amen brother, Amen.”
I stand and photo him for a while as he plays. A slow deep jazz tune, sad, but hopeful. It moves me as I capture the moment, frozen in time. I bid him farewell, drop some money in his case and clasp my hands mouthing thank you. He nods and plays louder, happier, buoyant as I pick up my pace further own 5th Avenue. These moments are diamonds on the streets of Manhattan. Little gems of time, a window into the soul of someone you encounter for 60 seconds. A connection so real yet so fleeting. The sound of his saxophone starts to fade as the throng of voices, car horns, and traffic take over as I hit 58th Street. I go to 59th and walk along the length of the Park across to Columbus Circle. Turn left and work my way down 7th Avenue. I phot things I find interesting or that spark my curiosity as I wander slowly back to 44th.
I arrive home a couple of hours later and Mardi and I head downtown to Greenwich and SoHo for one last shopping and walking visit.
We love walking the streets in this part of town. The old buildings, the tiny streets, the combination of shops from high street brands to independent retailers and everything in between. It’s a glorious day, chilly in the shade, but you can feel the warmth of the sun on your face. We visit shops here and there as we circle our way to Morton Street.
Morton Street, and in particular Bosie is our ground zero. The place where we hide away, drink tea and let the holiday, the city, this quaint place, envelop us in a warm embrace. Jessica greets us, as always, smiling and happy to see us. We take a seat in the lounge area and let the afternoon slide by as we chat, read and just relax.
For all of the hustle and bustle of New York, we have certainly found our little escape atolls. Bosie, Central Park, The AKA. Each provides us the escape we so much yearn, a little pit stop as we bustle away in city we have grown to love, respect and enjoy so much. Its hard to drag ourselves away from the oasis, but as we drain our second pot of tea each, we reluctantly stand up and head home for the day. Another visit to Bosie concludes on the eve of another visit to New York concluding. The tea fortifies us for the journey home and the return to reality.
