I've hooked up with school friends from the past, people I've barely known, others I have liked, teased, camped with but because life is so unpredictable, our paths once separated because of different academic pursuits or differing life journeys, we have now reconnected after several white hairs and wrinkles -- thanks to the magic of Facebook.
So, when Evonne called one day suggesting a trip to NYC for a weekend, I balked at the audacity of freeing myself from the responsibilities of Mommyhood to take off for a frivolous weekend and in any case, I didn't think the hubs would be in agreement. But I was wrong. Not only did he barely raise an eyebrow about the escapade, he even took 2 days off work to mind the kids and suggested that I hooked up with my long-time friend, Rachel, who lived in the city.
After 22 years of not having seen Evonne we planned our meeting in the first weekend of August. My memory of Evonne has always been of a smiley and spirited mushroom-haired girl. She wasn’t a conformist and even if her oddball trends -- I remember her wearing a flexi-curve ruler as a headband during Maths classes – never took off, she exuded an air of confidence, unaffected by the group mentality rampant during our teeanage years. She was loud, funny and unique. I liked her.
Evonne flew in from San Francisco on the red-eye flight while I took the company very-pampered leathered seats shuttle into NYC. She re-introduced Yoga by dragging me off in the mornings to a nearby class. After my 10-yr hiatus of not having performed any downward-facing dog poses and/or twisted lotus positions, my limbs screamed a quiet Ooohm while my face faked a blissful state of calm to blend in with the other enthusiasts around me.
We ate our way through the city because I kept reminding her that I lived in the town of boring burgers and pizzas. But the most memorable meal I had with her wasn’t at the highly recommended Malaysian café, or at the renowned Bouchon or at chi chi Bar Boulud, but it was the simple chicken kebab bought from a street vendor, relished in the cool evening and sitting amongst other tourists watching the crawling traffic.
We narrowed the list of ‘Things to do in the city’ and agreed that The Metropolitan Museum was something we wanted to see. We visited it twice because Van Gogh, Picasso, Monet and the Egyptian exhibitions fascinated us. We went to The Guggeheim too but at the last minute, decided that Wassily Kadinsky's abstract art wasn't our cup of tea. But I stumbled on a well-spoken Indian street artist selling his vibrant art pieces outside the Guggenhem that had me captivated and where I mulled over his collection for far too many minutes.
On our very last day, we rented bikes and like kids, whizzed through the park past the other kazillion tourists and locals and occasionally leaving bike tracks over muddy horse droppings. The sun beamed brightly on our skins, the wind attempted to cool off our sweaty underarms and the crystal clear tunes from local performers on their violins and saxophones transported me to a quieter retreat. I love bike riding maybe because it reminds me of my childhood days cycling aimlessly in the neighbourhood. Plus, when the wind is lifting the hair off my face, I’d like to think I’m high in the clouds.
After 2 ½ days, Evonne and I said our goodbyes after a hurried meal and then I was off to visit another friend I hadn’t seen in 10 years. Pecks and I have known each other since working at ICIS Singapore. The last time we met was in Houston where she was my first visitor, and the first to break in my Amish futon couch. She was also a darling who cooked me Chinese pork porridge when I was hoarse and light-headed from the flu.
Even as the time spent with Pecks was done in a New York minute, I enjoyed catching up on lost times in her teeny and chic Manhattan apartment. If I had known that it was a studio apartment, I might have decided against staying the night. But Pecks treated me with big Southern Mama hospitality and never once made me feel that her space was being encroached on.
We dined at her neighbourhood Thai restaurant then headed off to a dance hall where I attempted to relive my salsa dancing days. Hours later, deaf in one ear and sweat still sticky on my skin, we headed off to a nearby pub with her 2 friends and chattered the night away, blind to the death stares of the wait staff itching to close-up but too polite to throw us out. The newly acquired small town girl in me worried that we would be mugged or threatened in the wee hours of the night walking down the quiet streets of the city but Pecks seemed oblivious to the dangers playing out in my mind and walked me over to the deserted park across her apartment where the view of the city lights against the river twinkled magically in the night. I’m glad that she did. It was a charming spot, a treasure the tourists have yet to invade.
All good things must come to an end. And so, the next morning, Pecks and I parted outside her office in the financial district and I made my way into Chinatown in search of juicy Longans for my wee kids and Dim Sum for my rumbling tummy. I got both, and with a death grip on my treasured char siu baos, I bade NYC goodbye.
Coming home 3 ½ days later to squeals of delight and effusive bear hugs warmed my heart. It was good to steal away from the needy little people but I did miss them and the hubs. Add the fact that my hubs valiantly held the fort without turning the house into a scene from ‘The Cat in the Hat’ before the Cat magicks the mess away, was reassurance that all was alright when Mummy took a break.
That night before tucking Aidan in his bed, he said,
“Don’t ever go to NYC again, Mommy.”
“But why?" I asked.
“Because I love you,” he said.
And just like that, my heart melted a little more.
awwww.. that turned my heart into liquid too. thanks for sharing your blog and your thoughts. i have one too!
ReplyDeleteDe nada, quiero tango :) Btw, that was one thing I didn't get to do in Houston!
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