NYC
Yellow cabs are so cutthroat expensive that I rather walk 45mins to the office from my hotel. If I have more time, I could walk further (but these damn meetings) … New York is a city of solitude when traverse on foot.
I love New York mornings. Watching the city gets brighter, my mind alternating between images of my early morning read and the familiar yet unfamiliar pedestrian scene outside the café window… Phaedrus in the former floats like a ghost in and out of my thoughts while I stare at passerby, pretending I know how they live when it is all a dissonance spectacle. My New York mornings, more so than all other business trip mornings, defending my silence…
Miami
Cute.
For some reason, it feels natural to always be with company in Miami. Someone always have a good story to tell. There is always a gathering. Never a dull moment.
In the flickering candle light, dinner conversation jumps from Jun’ichiro Tanizaki to Italo Calvino, from sight to scent, to the commercial exploitation of the ephemeral state of Kleenex (this is where we lost Stephan). Someone starts on colorscape theory... These guys actually read the same books as I. The company was such a joy...
Even a quiet dinner can end up with an animated owner telling us he named this restaurant based on a book he read -“ Allegro Ma Non Troppo” by Carlo M. Cipolla… “The Basic Law of Human Stupidity”… See? Another Must Read being introduced… certainly, I will...
Miami is a good juxtaposition to New York. Coffee feels out of place in Miami. Green juice is the rule of the day and cocktail is the queen of the night. No time to even self-indulge as Gym is in (ah my butt and core!!!) and avocados and proteins tag close behind.
Los Angelas
Last leg. And a city I have problems connecting. Maybe because work has piled. Maybe because AA lost my luggage. Started the journey a bit deadbeat.
At first glance - a dystopia of congested freeways, hyper stylized aesthetics of massive suburbs, eccentric theme park design. Streets scrubbed of history and real life, hard for me to catch a glimpse of day-to-day human depth. I actually asked Charisse on Day 2 : What am I supposed to be looking at? I am confused. Neighborhood feels scripted and I feel trapped in a sunny disillusionment.
However, I persist in my morning walks... nothing much to see until i reach Santa Monica Pier. I do love the coastline - the raw energy of crashing waves… It feels like this huge expanse of Pacific Coast gave up pretending to have a narrative, leaving the human construct of the Carnival Park sticking out like an awkward existence.
I feel ridiculous as well, freezing in the sharp coastal winds, carrying my laptop, realizing that it is a dumb idea to walk from hotel to beach to office. And at 7am, no cozy cafes in sight and no hustle and bustle street life to watch.
This odd city, however, I forge new bonds with people.
A pink cosmetic pouch in the car revealing a romantic at heart I should have guessed. A passion for red roses, taking leave to organize parties - a warmth that never reached me during all these online meetings. Restoration projects on Saturdays, only for people who share an appreciation of history and craftsmanship, technical curiosity and exceptional patience – a colleague I never knew.
And this is precious. The layer of human harder to discover than the cityscape. The bits and pieces of blood and flesh that adds more depth to life... it is so nice to be in LA. Maybe I should have done this much earlier... I miss you people already...
Side note: many want to know how I find time to paint on a business trip. Jet lag and waking up at 2am helps. I am out exploring hours before reaching the office. The more outward attentiveness I give to meetings and social dinners, the longer the time I need to conduct my internal monologue. And painting is the physical manifestation of me making sense of this world. Plus, watercolor is a fast medium.
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