Sea Cliff in Long Island offers the ideal cure for the chaos of big cities. We’re staying at our friend’s Elie’s house in this tranquil spot. I spent most of the day on the porch reading, napping, listening to the birds, relaxing among trees and plants.
Yesterday we drove from Williamstown where we spent the night after picking blueberries the day before. In the afternoon we took the LIRR to Manhattan and went to see “Fiddler on the roof” in Yiddish at the Safra Hall in Battery Park. Not easy getting there: from Penn Station we took the subway 1 but there was no 1 so we were told to take the 2 but it wasn’t quite right so we got off at Fulton and hailed a cab. Time was running out. The oldest cab driver in New York appeared baffled, didn’t know how to get there at first, finally arrived and stopped short of the entrance. I opened the door and got out but he decided to drive a bit more. I screamed. Cars behind us honked. I yelled, flipped a bird, but we were not late. One minute to spare.
Play was terrific. Longish. Entertaining. The return trip had no incidents.
No comments:
Post a Comment