When home in NYC, Union Square Park is the park we most frequent. Lou loves the sandbox as do I since I can sit back and not be on the chase chanting no. Even a plastic cup will suffice as an object of curiosity. From Harlem, it's just four stops on the 4 or 5. The next time we get to the park, it'll finally be time to go out in shorts and crocs (Lou). Union Square Greenmarket at Union Square is also one of the best farmers market in town held on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays offering items such as ostrich eggs, dried lavender, duck breast, and gorgeous seasonal produce galore.
During the last few days of winter, we made it to The Standard Ice Rink in the Meatpacking District. The rink nests just in front of the hotel where all passerby Standard-y guests can see you bask in all your ice skating glory. There is a petit chalet where you can rent skates and an area to indulge in aprés (and avant) skate treats. The photo on the right was taken almost exactly four years ago in Siberia. That’s Lake Baikal I’m standing on, in ice skates as well, during the winter of 2007 when I embarked on my first trip out of the states to accompany Olivier (the Great and my now husband) to amazingly accessible Siberia. Lake Baikal is the oldest and deepest freshwater lake in the world, with more freshwater than the Great Lakes combined. Skating on the lake was pretty radical and the ice was so clear and so dark and there was almost a mile’s down worth of water beneath. The cracks were majestic though petrifying if they happened to actually crack while you’re out ice skating on the lake, which did happen. The sounds you hear before the ice cracks are thunderous booms coming seemingly from afar though you feel it in your bones that it’s going to come way too close for comfort and if you’re me and you’re not that great of an ice skater to begin with having ice skated very non-seriously in Hawaii while growing up, you’ve froze wearing the unfortunate skates with only a narrowed vision of the others skating far away to the truck for some safety. Just then the crack appears just a few feet from your feet and you realize you remain alive above the ice. Olivier took the photo below just moments before the whole cracked ice thing. The moment was unforgettable and now that I think about, falling on the rink at the Standard would not have been the end of the world.
Lou and I have followed Oli to Seattle, where he is shooting, like a wagon with creaky wheels. Last Sunday, we hung out with my aunt and her husband who happen to live in the area and they took us around to see some of Seattle’s sites and famous graves – Bruce + Brandon Lee and of course, Jimi Hendrix, though we had no idea. We strolled through the Volunteer Park Conservatory in Capitol Hill and hung out in a theater in the EMP Museum (dedicated to Rock & Roll Music + Sci-fi + Pop Culture) that plays continuous Jimi footage. In nice Seattle fashion we concluded the day and began the night with a few oyster shots at Salty’s on Alki’s Beach.