10 YEARS A NEW YORKER

The other night Gaby and I were walking through the Lower East Side after a lovely dinner date.  We had picked up Biet from her downtown sitter and were leisurely making our way through the balmy summer night towards the subway to ride home.  As we turned onto Orchard street, the sticky musty half-garbage-half-exhaust smell hit us, and I was taken back.  That smell. That smell of the city, that smell of freedom. To me, it smelled not of dirty concrete grit, but of freedom and creativity and life. And then I realized that we were on the block of the very first apartment in which I ever lived in NYC. And then I realized that it had been ten years and one day since I had moved here. A decade in New York. A decade a New Yorker.

Ten years ago, I had parted with all of my worldly belongings, save for two suitcases, and hopped on a plane with a one-way ticket to New York City. It was a red-eye flight but I was so excited that I could not sleep. I knew that my life awaited me. I knew that finally, after 18 years, I was going home. It was a home I did not know yet, but it was my home, I could feel it.  I took a cab from JFK, telling the driver to take me to the Lower East Side.  He talked all the way, asking me if I was an actress. "No," I replied, "I am an artist." Then he told me that his son was an artist too and maybe we should meet each other sometime. But I did not come to the city for a boyfriend. I came to the city to live, to experience, to meet all of the crazy and wonderful people from around the world, to be surrounded in urban beauty, and to explore.. to explore all the world had to offer.

As the skyline grew closer and closer a quiet peace overcame me.  It was the wave of awe and respect that would wash over anybody in the shadow of a thing of such beauty.  Then we were flying over a bridge, and it was as if I was in an old movie.. riding in the back of a cab, unable and unwilling to go back, heading towards my destiny. Suddenly buildings and taxis and people were all around, going to work and heading to school and coming home from the bars, all types of people from all walks of life moving and buzzing in the early morning hour. And then we were there, at Houston & Orchard. 

I got out of the car and took my two suitcases. I had bought them at the salvation army before I left. The  light one held my clothes and two pairs of shoes.  The heavy one was filled with my most important treasures: my books and photos of my parents and sisters, letters and keepsakes and jewelry, and my life savings, all $500 dollars of it. I picked up one in each hand, and walked down the street. And thats when I first smelled that lovely old fragrance of the city, the wind gust of trash and old beer and sweat and fumes, rolling down Orchard street like a morning fog.  And I was the happiest girl in the world.

So now its been a decade. We took a few photos on that ten year anniversary night, and when I look at them I just can't help but think of all that I, and we, have been through in this decade.  So much life has been lived, and so much has been created, and yet I know that the future holds even more spectacular beauty.

I love New York more than ever.

**the winner of the Barrel and a Heap giveaway is Emily, who said "The watermelon nappy (diaper) cover is my favourite by far!" Congratulations Emily!**

LISA'S LAST DAY

One by one our visitors, my family, our family, left to go back home to the West coast.  They packed up their things, hugged and kissed us, hopped in livery cabs, and drove to the airport to board their planes and fly away.  When Emmy left with the boys in the wee hours of the darkened early morning, I sleepily crawled out of bed to say my goodbyes.  Just as they were walking down the wooden staircase to the car waiting out front, Beckett turned to Gaby and asked, "Next time, can you come to my house? And can you bring my friend?" Gaby repeated "bring your friend?" and Beckett replied "Yes, I want you to bring my friend over to my house please." And then Gaby understood.  Beckett wanted his cousin Biet to come play. And Gaby said yes (of course). And that moment right then meant everything.

Now they know each other, a one-year-old and her three-year-old cousin.  And though they may be miles apart, they now have each other. And growing up in a family where my siblings meant just about everything in the whole world to me, this warmed my heart.  Her time with Beckett (and Dashiell too- although she really connected with Beckett) was Biet's most important first birthday gift.

The morning after they left, I got to spend the entire afternoon with Lisa!  No husband. No babies.  Just me and my little sister in the big city.  And even with the pesky skies deciding to be stormy, we had such a fun time.  I miss running around with Lisa taking photos.  She is and will always be my favorite model. We spent the day on the streets and in the shops of the Lower East Side and East Village, stopping in at a few old favorites and ending with a major pastry purchase from Black Hound Bakery.

Then we went home and consumed boxes and boxes of pastries before she too left for the airport.  It was kind of ridiculous.  But so, so good.

My Kind of Town

New York City, don't you just love her? Sometimes I'll step out into the day and it hits me, hard: I live in my favorite place on earth. I love this town. No, I mean I LOVE this town with every beat of my heart and every spark of my soul. It's just my kind of town.

This morning, I had to jump out of bed early for a dentist appointment. Not the most exhilarating of outings, i know. And it could have been downright dreadful, were it not for my good friend, NYC. She took me by the hand and turned my morning into a song. A half hour ride on the train became a front row center stage seat at a glorious mariachi concert, thanks to some early-rising, and gosh darned talented, subway musicians. The stroll down Grand street to the dentist office was brightened with the warm morning sun shining through the buildings and chance encounters with old friends. The dentist was the dentist, there's no much NYC could help me with there (besides randomly sending me the most gentle and caring awesome lady dentist I've ever had). But on my walk back towards home, I fell in love with the city all over again.

Its kind of impossible to pass by The Donut Plant on Grand Street without stopping in for one of their handmade morsels of deliciousness. They have the most wonderfully unique flavors (my current favorite is creme brûlée). One second, I was gazing through their window, and the next, I was watching the counter man carefully place a third donut in my bag. As I was about to leave, NYC went and worked her magic once more. The counter man asked about the photos I was snapping, I smiled and struck up a conversation, and he threw in 2 (!) free donuts for "a neighborhood gal." {And they were cake donuts too - my favorite!}




I happily continued my stroll down Grand, bag of donuts in hand, marveling at the beauty of the city. And I came up to the holy grail of bagels: Kossar's Bialys. Every baker in New York claims to have the best bagel, but I'll tell you right now: Kossar's Bialys is it. I decided to grab a couple for home (I knew bagels for brunch would make Gaby's day), and wandered in. I asked the woman at the counter if she had baked the bagels that morning. She laughed and replied "Oh no, I have him bake em, I just sell em. Wanna see where they're made?" A grand tour of the back baking room!? Of course I wanted to see! So she led me around back to the giant oven. The room was deserted at the late morning hour, with a light layer of flour covering everything. Empty baking racks were strewn about from the early morning hours. It was thrilling to peek into the secret back room of a neighborhood institution! Thank you bagel lady! Thank you NYC!





As I walked the last couple of blocks to the train, through Chinatown, I smelled the strong scent of incense wafting out of an open door on the street. Suddenly a glorious song filled the air, and I realized that the door was an unassuming church in the middle of the quiet block. The singing got louder and louder until it overtook the small industrial block. It was beautiful. I walked on, wondering all the while what other secrets might lie behind the countless unmarked doors in this city. Music, donuts, bakers, sunshine, characters, secrets: NYC, you dealt me quite a hand this morning.

I walked down the subway stairs, fumbled for my metrocard (anyone else miss the tokens?), and pushed through the turnstile. At that moment, I felt the sudden wind from the tunnel and my train pulled into the station. Don't you jut love it when that happens? Oh NYC, thanks looking out for me today. You truly are the best!

Biet speaks, sort of.

Biet has discovered her tiny voice. I can't get enough of it.

Pastrami on Rye

On Biet's first trip to Katz's Deli, she:

*Met Gaby's "guy" who makes THE BEST pastrami sandwiches
*Watched her parents devour said pastrami sandwiches (along with matzo ball soup & pickles & bottled soda)
*Startled the whole place when she got hungry and decided to let us know (busboy: "that kid's sure gotta set of pipes on em!")
*Had her limbs compared to Katz's pickles
*Got the evil eye from the guy at the table behind us (picture below)
*Fell asleep on her papa's shoulder and stayed there until we got home

In 5 more months she'll be able to actually taste a little pastrami, but we'll be back before then because WE LOVE KATZ'S DELICATESSEN! (and I love their slogan too: "Send a Salami to Your Boy in the Army")

Our unofficial 1st family portrait

I just found this photo, taken by Gaby's sister Adi, and realized it is the first picture taken of us as a family! **There is actually a snapshot of the three of us laying on our bed when Biet was a couple hours old, but I'd rather keep that one private- I don't think the hours after giving birth were my most glamorous moments**
Biet was ten days old here (compared to the whopping 19 days of life she now has under her belt) and we are standing outside the public school where Gaby teaches photography. It is unofficially the first portrait of The Savransky Family out and about in New York City.