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back to Tranna

Sitting in the Newark Airport, goin’ home – yay! Another heavenly day in NYC, sun, clear skies, puffy white clouds, seven billion people all trying to get somewhere as loudly and quickly as possible …

No, it’s a great place and all, truly. But I am always glad to get out. I remember “My Dinner with André” describing NYC as “a concentration camp built by the inmates.” A bit grim, but sometimes it feels that way.

This morning, after my time at Caffe Noi, off to the Jewish Museum for a wonderful exhibit on illustrated manuscripts through the ages, about which more anon, because internet keeps going in and out here. And Vuillard. And then a walk through the Park, watching the beet-red runners. Then to the Met, briefly, because I can’t not go, but was really too tired to take it in, gorgeous as it is. There’s an amazing Warhol exhibit that opens on Tuesday, open now for members only – I tried begging at the door, saying I’m from Toronto and leaving soon, could I sneak in? Nyet. Ah well, had to see fabulous treasures from around the world instead.

On the way home, after looking high and low, I found the perfect teddy bear for Eli in a little candy shop on Lexington Ave. Not even F.A.O. Schwartz yesterday had one – either too expensive, or plastered with slogans. This is a nice, simply cuddly bear with a lovely face. A good bear is important. I have one, given to me when I was six months old, and now so will he. Don’t tell him – it’s for Xmas.

I left Ted’s so early, I was laughing at my neuroses – I like to leave lots of time to get to the airport so there’s no stress. No stress, ha. I’d decided to take the Liberty Bus to Newark instead of the train, and as I arrived at the bus, the woman getting off said it had taken, not the 45 minutes advertised, but 2 hours to get in from the airport to the city. The driver scoffed, at least, as much scoffing as a Chinese man who barely speaks English can do. But when we made a final stop in the city to pick up passengers, there was an enormous line-up waiting to get on and some hold-up, the previous bus still sitting there, no one knew what was going on, the drivers said they couldn’t move without the dispatcher who was saying don’t move – panic everywhere.

An impatient man was trying to find out what was going on; mouthy moi joined him, of course, and finally he mentioned a cab and I said, I’ll share one with you, and he went off to find one, not easy around the bus terminal, and I had to fight my way back onto the bus to get my luggage off. But did. So Bob, an American who now lives in Montreal, and I shared a blissful, stress-free cab to the Newark Airport. It cost a little more, but it was delightful. We laughed a lot. When we arrived, he said they’re probably still loading back there. He got out first and after handing me half the fare, told the driver his girlfriend would pay. So long sweetheart, he said, and I said, take care, honey.

Here in lots of time. Time to write to you.

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOME.

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2 Responses to “back to Tranna”

  1. Juliet in Paris says:

    Did you get Bob's phone number or email address??? That sounds like a good hook-up!

  2. beth says:

    Ships in the night, Juliet. Yes, he was funny, well-travelled and sophisticated, talking about his time in Sao Paolo. When I complimented him on his skill at getting a cab in a difficult place, he said, Have you ever been to China? You learn to make your presence felt.

    But I guess neither of us wanted to venture further than the New Jersey Turnpike.

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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

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This blog evolves. It once was about travels. Now it’s a reason to be at the keyboard that I value.

Theresa Kishkan
Theresa Kishkan is a writer living on the Sechelt Peninsula on the west coast of Canada.

I walk on. With my feet, and in my mind as well.

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Wherever you’ve come from, wherever you’re going, consider this space a place for reflection and pause.

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