We had almost no plans when we left. Francisco had booked us a cheap, but well-reviewed European style hotel on a quiet street near Times Square. Because we had the cheapest room they had on offer, it meant we were just off the lounge, but that was a minor inconvenience. They offered pretty nice continental breakfasts, which meant that as I wake hungry at the crack of dawn, I could eat for a while while Francisco slept in. And they had a little wine and cheese hour, which we never got to fully appreciate, but did serve as an appetizer that gave me strength to walk to dinner each night.
We booked some last minute tickets to Saint Joan, which we had some complaints about--one of which was that it lasted three hours--but was overall a great and thought-provoking Bernard Shaw play loaded with our favorite things: religion and politics. And we got great and cheap tickets.
The next night we saw Conflict, a rom-com mostly without religion but loaded with politics, which was entertaining and in such a nice small theater, which incidentally I recognized at the one in which I watched The Cocktail Party with Hopkins and Stearns years before.
We interspersed our play viewing with visits to the Met and the Cloisters to see the Heavenly Bodies exhibit. There were incredible papal robes and tiaras. We felt a little bad going in--there were Catholic protesters outside who are somehow offended that Catholicism should have influenced the culture around it. But there were Dominican nuns inside, so we thought we were in good company.
And we stopped by the Neue Gallery and its wonderful cafe and its Klimt room, where I learned more about the Woman in Gold than I ever knew before.
We interspersed our art with food, from the top to the bottom--we ate Indian food, of course we had slices, we had an Israeli brunch, Mexican breakfast sandwiches, and BBQ chicken (The Chirping Chicken--I knew it would be good).
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