Today: In a New York minute.

[tweetmeme source=”elizabethev” only_single=false]One of my favorite things about New York is the undeniable character of its many neighborhoods.  Each is different, and it seems, inhabited by its own sort of people.  I spent the weekend visiting my friend Meg, enjoying a practically perfect two days in the city.  Having spent so many weekends at her Upper East Side apartment when we were younger (and better equipped to drink Orangina cocktails at O’Flanagans until 4 in the morning), I was happy to finally make the trip down to see her not-so-new-anymore place in Brooklyn.

As I stepped out of the taxi at her street corner in Williamsburg, I was instantly charmed.  I loved every minute of it.

Except for the minute during which a fellow yoga class participant peeled off his jeans in the lobby of Go Yoga, primed to down-dog in boxer briefs (holey ones, at that) and a hitched up flannel shirt.  Yes, really.  Meg and I stopped in for what was supposed to be a foundations class, but turned out to be  a class of die-hard regulars, some of whom may have invented yoga.  Or at least pretended to.  Despite being a bit more challenging than expected, it was a great class.  The instructor seemed very kind, and offered gentle corrections and modifications.  She massaged my back a little at one point, which was both welcomed and sort of weird.  I decided to embrace it.  Sort of.  If nothing else, it was a nice distraction from the underoos.

Earlier in the day, Meg and I headed over to the West Side to do something I haven’t done in, oh, fifteen years: ride a bike.  When Meg suggested renting from The Waterfront Bicycle Shop earlier in the week, I was both excited and terrified.  Would riding a bike be just like, well, riding a bike?  After stashing my giant Michael Kors in the basket and climbing onto the seat, I awkwardly fumbled for the pedals and pushed off.  It was a wobbly start, at best.  As we approached a stop sign ahead, I realized I didn’t remember how to break.  Gone are the days of back pedaling.

It didn’t take long to get into the rhythm of things, though, and soon I was smiling like a cheeseball, cruising along the Hudson River.  From high atop my bike seat (serious question– are those thing supposed to hurt?), I watched soccer games unfold, skyscrapers fly by, runners enjoy their Saturday long runs, and caught a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty on my right and Ground Zero on my left.  I was reminded that in a New York minute, as the song goes, anything can change.

After an hour’s ride (for a bargain: $11, including the awesome basket), Meg and I strolled through the West Village, looking for a place to grab a bite to eat.  We quickly settled on Spasso, located on a corner perfect for people watching.  I snacked on grilled bread with house-made ricotta, drizzled with honey and topped with shaved almonds.  It was divine, as was the weather.  To be eating outside in late October is really a gift from the above, likely sent to make up for underwear yoga man.

Just as our tea and coffee arrived, we heard a man yell “Learn to drive,” and looked up to see that he was yelling at… a student driver.  Brilliant.  I really do love New York.  And New Yorkers even more so.

Also On Tap for Today:

• Scored a seat on the quiet car for the ride home 🙂
• How cute are these “stately” cutting boards?
• Getting ready for the week ahead