As I sat and watched Curtains, I realized Carol thinks of New York as a theater town, as probably most people do. I think of New York as an art town, and spend my days so busily looking at art I am too tired to think about theater by evening. There was certainly a time I saw a lot of theater. On one trip from Chicago I must have seen six plays in 5 days. I’m not sure why I don’t love it as much now.

For our last day in town we went back to the TKTS booth, this time getting half-price tickets for The Drowsy Chaperone. It was a cute story, better costumes and music than Curtains, although very similar. Both are plays within plays and probably owe a lot to the Producers. After the play we walked around Ninth Avenue looking at people and architecture, met a friend for dinner back at Sala Thai. Next: home, school and more Japan planning.

Carol spent four or five hours traveling to Ridgewood on Friday, and unfortunately, I gave her another five hours of transit riding on Saturday. She also got a taste of the real New York on Friday: there was a bomb scare at the Port Authority Friday morning, all of New York’s finest keeping people out of the building and adding more anxiety to her trip. She’s a good sport.

We began our day at the National Museum of the American Indian in Battery Park. The exhibits were filled with wonderful objects, mostly from Northwest Coast Indians. The building, the Alexander Hamilton U.S. Custom House, is also worth seeing. This is the centennial of the building commemorated with an exhibit in the rotund.

We boarded the Staten Island Ferry, just a short walk from the museum. Although New York is largely empty in August, all of the tourists seemed to be on the ferry. It can be a wonderful ride; next time will be better.

I had a goal in mind this trip; it wasn’t just to ride on the ferry. I always wanted to visit the Jacques Marchais Tibetan Museum, not realizing what the trip entailed. We got on a bus, conveniently waiting for us outside of the ferry terminal. Unfortunately air conditioning on the bus was only marginal and the trip was long. Then there was a long walk up a steep hill to get to the museum. It was interesting, particularly learning about Jacques Marchais, but I would not return unless I was driving. By the time we got back to the ferry we both felt like we had become a sodden mess.

Carol wanted to see a play. We went to the TKTS booth and got half-price tickets to Curtains. After dinner at a charming Japanese restaurant we settled in and enjoyed the play. It was cute. The best person was Debra Monk, a wonderful, talented, older woman with a great voice. It’s a great joy to see an older actor doing a great job.

It was hot again–it really saps my energy. First I went to the library and returned those books. I walked down 41st Street from Grand Central, following bronze plaques with quotations from famous authors, set into the pavement. This is called "Library Way." Amongst the joys of New York are these quixotic touches: funky bronze sculptures in the 14th Street subway stations, streets named after famous, or not so famous residents, a list of ticker tape honorees and dates of their parades embedded in the pavement on Broadway near Wall Street, the reservoir in Central Park named for Jackie Kennedy Onassis. One of the streets is named George and Annette Murphy Street. I wonder how many people remember George Murphy, and was Annette famous?

Walking from the library to Seventh Avenue for a bus, I found several shops selling millinery supplies and beads and stones for making jewelry. If I ever use all the beads and stones I’ve already collected, I’ll come back to 38th Street for more.

My destination was the Rubin Museum, one of my favorite places even though I abhor the way Donald Rubin made his money–healthcare management. I spent most of my time in front of three huge textiles, giant appliqués of padmasambhava. I wish someone would write a book about them, with great photos of details of the appliqué work. My interests in art always seem to be on the edges of the art world–nothing is ever depicted on a postcard.

After a tour of the green market in Union Square and a coffee break at Barnes & Noble across the street, I returned to the apartment, totally wiped out. Finally revived enough to have dinner with Barbara.

Day thirteen. Only a few days before I return to Pittsburgh. I decided to begin the packing and cleaning up process by returning the two books I borrowed from the public library last week. I walked up Carnegie Hill, and arrived at the library just as a light drizzle began. Alas! the library was closed until noon. Worse–there is no book drop. I had to return to the apartment before noon as Carol was scheduled to arrive then. I continued walking in the misty rain with the books, ran a couple of other errands and got back to the apartment about 11.

Although I dearly love New York there are some unbelievable inconveniences here. Why can’t the library have a book drop? Every suburban library understands the need for book drops. Pittsburgh even has drive-up book drops. I guess it wouldn’t be New York if it was easy.

After a Japanese bento box lunch, Carol and I went over to the Met and spent most of our time in Egypt. That’s one area I usually neglect, so it was pretty interesting going through it.

Carol had never been to Central Park. We walked across more or less from Fifth Avenue and 84th Street to 81st and Central Park West where we took the subway downtown to meet Julia for dinner. In the past I had often met Julia at a restaurant on 23 rd Street called East of Eighth. We did it again, having a lovely dinner with too much food.

Carol will go to New Jersey tomorrow to visit a friend, then we will spend the weekend together and go to the airport for planes leaving about 5 minutes apart.