After some much-needed sleep, we appropriately fueled up on bagels before strolling through Central Park towards the Metropolitan Museum of Art, thus fulfilling Ira’s goal to have visited the National Gallery, the Louvre, and the Met within the same year. Somehow I never managed to go to the Met despite its proximity to my childhood home, which is shameful to admit. We spent several hours there and seemed to cover only a fraction of the possibilities, including the voluminous collection of impressionists, a walk through the modern wing to ogle at Warhol’s Mao and Jackie O, and a quick peak at the Turner exhibit which included the large painting I missed seeing at the Royal Academy because of its touring!

--- the Great Lawn in Central Park ---

--- the Metropolitan Museum of Art ---

--- Peg Leg the Pigeon II ---

Back out into the beautiful day, we grabbed a hot dog and soda and oddly came upon another peg-legged pigeon. By way of recollection, we had photographed a previous peg-legged pigeon while eating lunch outside the steps of St. Paul’s in London, so it was quite coincidental that we might see another – or the same? – while eating lunch by the steps of the Met.

Downtown, we walked from City Hall, by the mayor’s house over to the World Trade Center, which was crawling with tourists not quite sure what they were supposed to be looking at. Construction has begun and the whole Ground Zero area is cordoned off with fencing covered with tarp, making it almost impossible to satisfy one’s curiosity of what is going on down in that vast hole. And vast indeed; when we did find a gap in the fencing, the scale of size is revealed when one realizes that full-sized cranes look like Tonka toys milling about. Unlicensed street vendors were rife in the area, hocking their fake Prada and Gucci bags. At Ira’s urging I bargained down for a small purse, which afforded us the humor of seeing an angry woman return to the seller, carrying several bags and exclaim, “these aren’t real, they’re made in China. Give me some of my money back!” I had to wonder if she really believed it was less indignant for her to think she was buying hot designer purses…

Nearby, St. Paul’s Chapel miraculously survived the 9/11 attacks and served as a place of respite for the firefighters during the rescue efforts. An homage to the stump of an old sycamore tree that sacrificed itself for the sake of the 200 year old church and the symbolic gift of a large bell from the United Kingdom (made in the White Chapel Bell Foundry, of course) adorned the chapel grounds. Inside were sobering tributes to the firefighters and the people who perished in the attack and a tear-jerking account of how the chapel served the neighborhood during this most difficult time.

We then hopped a bus to Greenwich Village for a proper New York dinner at John’s Pizza and a bit of a rest before tackling the Empire State Building, another major New York attraction that I managed to avoid as a kid. We waited in multiple endless lines, during which time we were hounded by various salespersons. I felt a bit embarrassed and disgusted by the commercialism of it all (not to mention the ridiculous prices), but was also determined to be at the top for sunset just one time in my life. Check.

--- Empire State Building, sans King Kong ---

--- the observation deck was packed... ---

--- ...but the view was worth it ---

Ira insisted on a piece of key lime pie at one of the many 24-hour diners before retiring. We enjoyed a sidewalk seat on a mild night and some friendly banter with the not-busy-enough waiter, who then took our friendliness as an invitation to rant about all the things wrong with the City he had called home his entire life. The more he talked, the more his anger surfaced, as we smiled politely and nodded, trying to figure out how to end the conversation and get out of there!