Leaving Winter (and Manhattan) Behind

I can't decide what I'll miss more until I return at the end of April:  Central Park or my apartment.

I delayed my departure for Lake Worth so I could meet Julia, the young woman Zoltan brought home to meet Tom & Audrey.  They seem well-matched and really happy.  And they cleaned their plates of my meatloaf, rosemary potatoes and cauliflower tossed with parmesan and breadcrumbs, which me me really happy!  Extra credit:  Julia, a theater geek, worships Stephen Sondheim and recognized all the tracks on my "Broadway Babies" playlist.

Hours before they arrived, my apartment looked like an excavation site for the temporary move to Florida.  I resurrected my Marantz receiver, purchased the summer before I left El Paso for college in 1971, after seeing the same model proudly displayed in a hipster's apartment earlier this month in Quebec City.  CDs hadn't been invented the last time I plugged it in.  Neither Tom, my roommate at Columbia and Zoltan's father, nor I was sure if it would sing along with an i-Pod after all those years in hibernation.

Funny how an antique machine can bring back so many blazing memories.

More Than Swimming Pools

If you like bright color, don't miss the David Hockney exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art even if it will set you back $25 smackeroos.

I'm always up for an Andy portrait.  "A certain bohemia died with Andy," Hockney observed in an interview, complaining he didn't know where to go anymore

Hockney's LA set included Don Bachardy, Christopher Isherwood and Ossie Clark.

No doubt they spent more time talking about hot guys than sprinkling their lawns, but he renders both subjects impeccably.

I'm a big fan of his Polaroid collages.  An expensively framed reproduction of Pearlblossom Highway  (1986) hangs in my New York City bedroom.  It soon will relocate to Lake Worth, a more Hockneyed climate.  If only our pool came stocked with fish like these!

Has any artist been more open to new technology than he?

Old World

Snow fell steadily during the three-hour drive on the Trans Canada Highway from Quebec City.   We still arrived in Montreal too early to check into our Airbnb.  Magda suggested we kill some frigid time at the Biosphere but the exhibits weren't compelling enough for Joe and I to open our tightly closed wallets.

Little could have topped our previous accommodations.  Mounted antlers provided the only charm in our new, centrally located digs but we enjoyed ourselves pigging out on poutine and watching the Philadelphia Eagles win Super Bowl LII.

Keep in mind that "pigging out" on poutine is a relative term.  In our case, it means more than three mouthfuls.  Even Joe couldn't rise to the challenge of polishing off the leftovers back in Boston (trust me, the classic Quebecois dish looks a lot more appetizing plated than it did in a styrofoam container).

A bright sun warmed our slushy trek downtown on Monday.

Banners outside the Place des Arts promoted an exhibit about Montreal's favorite son at the Musée d'art contemporain.  I'm sorry we didn't go.

We stopped at Simons just to make Thom jealous.

Knock-off Gucci is the cat's meow north of the border.  I'm not sure even Jared Leto could get away with this print.

We began our walking tour of Old Montreal in the opulent lobby of the Royal Bank building, the tallest in the British Empire when it opened in 1928.  It's as magnificent as the interior of Grand Central Station.

The incredibly blue sky silhouetted some nearby gargoyles.

Mandy's more than met Magda's lunch needs.  Delicious grain bowls, interesting pop art and most important of all, fast wifi.

Some of the architectural details really do make you feel as if you're in an Old World country.

But there's plenty of contemporary eye candy, too.

 

After Magda gave me a lengthy lesson in Excel back at the Airbnb, we took the Metro back to Old Montreal to redeem my Christmas gift from her and Joe, a meal at Barroco.  I had the beef bourguignon.  They ordered the paella with lobster.  Deelish all around.

They dropped me off at Gare Centrale on Tuesday morning.  I took the Adirondack train back to New York City.  If not for the 90-minute delay at the border crossing, it would have been a lovely and relaxing way to end another great getaway.

Carnaval de Québec

Bonhomme welcomed Magda, Joe and I to the Winter Carnival in Quebec City.

He turned up everywhere.

Although the bitter cold deterred my picture taking mania, the snow sculptures didn't wow me as much as I expected.

 

Tools of the trade.

Upper Town offered panoramic views of the St. Lawrence River.

Heartier souls enjoyed toboggan rides.

We roamed the quaint streets for as long as we could.

A steep staircase took us down to the hip neighborhood where Joe had booked a terrific Airbnb on Rue de Roi.

We watched Detroit, easily one of the best movies of 2017, before venturing out again for Saturday's Charlesbourg Night Parade.  We lasted about half an hour in the minus 7 degree weather!

 

It felt like the cold was erasing us.

I liked the art at the local restaurant where we dined.

Some of the street art was cool, too.