We walked the entire Upper West Side and then hit the wall of green. Central Park that is. A respite among the chaos. Living, breathing, photosynthesizing matter, surrounded by the dead and dying. Concrete Jungle.
We took off our shoes, let our toes gasp some fresh air, and then we went for a stroll. We are park kind of people. It seems like no matter what worldly city we find ourselves in, we always end up in some green space or another (1, 2, 3, 4). I guess it should be expected for two biologists. But we wandered around and so much did we see in that tiny little spot of green nestled on that island of Manhattan. We found a very bright lake, and stylish men sleeping on benches, couples cycling and rollerblading, and some very big trees. Its a lively place that park that is so central, I think every city should consider getting one.
When we had explored enough, we found ourselves hungry, so we picked up a hot dog and Pablo asked for some cheese. The Hot Dog Salesman and I were very confused, "Cheese on your dog?" "Of course" he said "and do you have crushed chips and quail eggs as well?" Its always a surprise, these little trans-cultural moments. They appear when they're least expected, like little jewels of lost-in-translation. Innocent and unaware that its just not done like that here.
As befuddled dear hot dog man looks on, knowingly, I smile and turn to mi amor, "Perhaps ketchup and mustard will do?"