I did not sleep at all!
I don't know what the meat had inside, but it certainly was not organic or natural. If I put my finger on it, I would say some tenderizers and a good dose of hormones. Not for me...Not again...
Time to check out. Packing up is always such ordeal and we both seem always confused. By 1pm we manage to get it all done and our stuffed cases are closed (bulging with liters of creams and potions!) and locked and we leave our homey room at 70 Park, which was after-all a pleasant surprise.
Summary:
*Concierge extremely helpful with a great address book for good food
*nice bed sheets(FRETTE) and bathroom amenities(L'occitane)
*rooms are well designed and comfortable, even for longer stays (unless you get the shoe box room, of which they have just a few - so better ask for a little more space)
*breakfast is served till 12 under the week and till 1pm on weekends (finally!!)
*room service is tasty and eatable
*the complimentary wine tasting hour is a great concept to mingle with other guests
*Pets are welcome and there is even a bowl of water for the 4-legged ones at the entrance
*many fun ideas for the seasons, like eggnog at Xmas, Santa pictures with your pet, or popcorn and movies to order in-room
*conveniently located between up and downtown, and close to the theater-district
*ok, but it is noisy, as Park is always awake, but so is NY
*inexpensive for NY standards (from 200$)
www.70parkave.com
The bell boy collects our many bags and I give him a paper bag, asking him to be extra gentle with this one, as it has pottery inside. (the one I made at Canyon Ranch)
He promises to be extra careful. Promise!
Ok, time to take our last stroll in NY for 2009.
The sun is shining bright and it is about 18 Degrees, 70 Farenheit. Winter, Christmas? It surely does not feel like it. I am hot. Even in my new little 3 piece by Calvin Klein, something I also discovered while at MACY'S yesterday. A simple grey dress, with a thick belt and a tiny buttonless jacket, it is the perfectly elegant and smart travelers suit.
Prince is hungry, so we stop at a pretty invitingly looking Italian. A Caprese and some Mushroom Pasta, pretty good, but nothing to remember. Let's say- a healthy hunger killer.
Now my boots. I am so excited to take Prince to this shoe repair, as it impressed me tons. If I would only know now, how much more it will impress me later on...
The story will be attached on the end of this entry, as I wrote a long article at the purseblog about it, a place that had more unhappy Leather Spa costumers, so I just had to join. Stay with me a minute, it is well worth the wait!
All to say for now, the boots are not ready and we are to return at 6pm.
So, 3 hours left in NY...what to do?... shopping has been done to exhaustion of our suitcases, hunger is more than fed, horse-ride romantically experienced, so we are left with... yipppppieeeee... yes... Ice skating at the Rockefeller Center, where the lights have been turned on in big ceremony only last night (that's why there was so much traffic... now I know).
"NOOOOOOOOOO, MERCY!!!" I hear Prince yelling.
Ok, how about something for our cultural digestive system?
Obviously, the second choice is the winner here.
"To the Museum of Natural History, please" , since we have never been and it is supposed to be fantastic.
Housed in a magnificent building, overlooking Central Park, it is one of the world's largest and most celebrated museums. The collections contain over 32 million specimens, of which only a small fraction can be displayed at any given time. Founded in 1869 it reminds of Harry Potter movies and the feeling gets even more convincing, once inside. The long corridors with very few visitors lead to dimly lid exhibition spaces where dinosaurs compete with other skeletons for 'the most scary&ugly award'. The museum is done nicely, but the lay out and flow lacks smoothness and we keep on wandering in circles, before finding the right sections. A museums ward polishing some gigantic skeleton teeth lures me towards his direction. They are over a Million years old he explains kindly and starts pulling out all kind of ancient goodies from his bag. I get to stroke some beast's jaw, which opens almost 150 degrees, which means a painful huge bite with no room for escape. I don't know how it happened, but a minute later this monster jaw is over my head and I am the picture opportunity for every passing tourist. "It is for good luck" the ward grins, " it will protect you from all bad". If he would only know how much I am in need of such a good omen. Or maybe somehow he does and was send to refill my luck bank? For 2010?
Thank you I smile and with a little jump in my heart I follow Prince to his excitedly awaited 3-D Space show, narrated by Whoopie Goldberg (she is great!)
Now it is the time to return to canyon Ranch. I must do it now, because I was just too amazed by the resemblance of the space show and my own space trip.
Do you remember Jonathan and the shamanic journey? If not much else (and Petra's artsy classes) Jonathan is reason enough to return to the Ranch once more and explore the inner me on a much wider range.
The shamanic journey starts with the meditative drumming of Jonathan. I am lying on a mattress in a very cold room, so I am covered in a small mountain of blankets. I am skeptical, obviously, on what to expect.
I have been on of few spiritual journeys in my life, but always with the assistance of mother nature's gifts. Mushrooms or cactuses are my preferred door openers to the 'other side'.
I have seen and learned many things on those travels, but this is writing material for another time.
My hands seem cold and wet and I am trying not to break into a nervous giggle.
Can the door open with just the power of sound and guidance?
I always believed it can, but till today, I have never found the key.
Jonathan starts humming and singing in a strange, yet familiar voice. He is calling for the ancestors. I am enchanted by the language and the rhythm, it puts me at ease, it makes me drift, it takes me away from the here and now, away from this chilly dark room and the damp mattress.
I am floating somewhere by a fire, I am in Africa, I think, as the sounds seem to take me to the bush, to the natives, to the wild and free and open.
Jonathan's voice is calling, he is here too, I wonder?
He is telling me something... he is telling me to leave and it takes me some time to follow. I don't want to leave. I like the fire. I like the bush. I like the music.
Then,
NOTHING.
The drums and the voices fade away from me and as much as I try to hold on, they disappear.
"We are going to a place of peace Anna", I hear Jonathan again.
"You are somewhere happy. Somewhere you want to be."
"You are in a place of harmony, of beauty...Where are you?"
I am thinking now, I somehow feel I am loosing the magic "otherworld". I am back in the room, in the cold, on a used mattress in a dingy room, in a place not at all spiritual. I feel betrayed, I feel lost, I want to go back to those drummers.
"Anna, are you there?"
" Tell me where you are."
I need to think, to envision a place, so I choose a mountain, surrounded by forest. The sky is blue... Eagles fly high above. I can smell the earth, the scent of the green...
And then... Well then, the door did open. In a most unexpected way.
I took off from this mountain and it was a journey, both enlightening yet also baffling.
Usually, a journey takes you to places, to people.
Not this time.
I took off and went 'up'. I somehow went up and up and up.
Then, in the middle of NOWHERE, I stopped and just floated.
There was nothing around me. I was nothing. And strangely enough I was divinely happy in this nothingness.
I cannot describe it any better. But NOTHING.
The world was nothing. Space was nothing. Air was nothing and I was NOTHING. And with that I was in absolute harmony and peace.
I am in BLISS. "Nothingbliss"
"Anna, where are you?" a voice drifts out of nothingness into my nonexistent mind. It takes me some moments to focus on the sound and then I realize where I am, whom I hear. I feel again a little edgy, to be called away from my haven of nothingness.
Why does he have to call me now, I wonder annoyed. I want to stay here. In my queendom of pure nothingbliss. I want to be one with nothing. I want to be...
"Anna?"
Okay, okay... I will explain... I will share... But must I?
I am trying to describe my place, my surroundings, my feelings, which is hard to do. Because there is NOTHING to portray.
Jonathan, I am floating. I am nowhere. There is nothing. Maybe I could call it a dense grey fog, but maybe nothing is the same. But the funny thing is - I AM SOOOOO HAPPY HERE. SO CALM. SO AT EASE. IN PEACE...
His voice is guiding me again and my heart is filling with pain to leave this place of NOTHING.
I want to stay, pleassssssssssse, don't take me away....!!! heading
I float again, up-up-up, faster faster faster.
And buffffffffff, I am above the nothingness and I am in the universe.
It is a celestial place, the glistening liquid dark with millions and millions of stars.
I feel lost, afraid, disorientated and then, a storm of stars shoots towards me. They remind me of a school of fish. Brightly flickering fish, but no, they are stars and they are heading towards me. I am panicking. Will they hit me? Will I die up here..???
And then, I am with the school of stars. They embrace me. I am one of them and we fly-shoot through the universe. Together. Like one being of light. It is an ecstatic feeling. A high. A climax, an orgasm.
I belong here. I am home. I am one of all.
Jonathan's voice again pulls me away and this time I return to earth. Back to the forest.
And I am left speechless.
An old wise men, dressed with almost nothing greets me with a knowing smile. He opens his hands and a firefly escapes.
I get up, from my magic carpet, Jonathan's eyes wide in wonder and wisdom.
He can feel my 'lostness' and does not ask. And I don't talk. I leave the room and head next door to paint my pottery. There is no one and while the brush glazes the earthenware, my mind is full with questions and awe.
Where did I go? Maybe my door did not open and the NOTHINGNESS was really just nothing? Maybe I have lost my spirituality???
Questions, doubts, worries...
And here I am, now, in the planetarium and the star-show takes me back to Jonathan and all of a sudden I can see it. I understand. I know.
The show resembles my shamanic trip. As if someone had filmed my mind and reproduced it. (some of it at least)
There is an important message, which I learn today. We are all part of the universe. Each and everything is made from universal particles, we are particles, we are the universe. We are one. We are none. We are all.
And with that, I will stop. Because a journey like this must be experienced in your own individual way, in your own time and place.
Promise though, I will make sure to order Jonathan's book as soon we are back in Portugal.
And now the bad part:
When we return to the leather Spa I get hit by a hammer, by what happens there.
My heartbeat must have gone up to Formula 1 speeds.
Lesson learned: I should always trust my first instinct.
I should always have my antennas out for potential danger.
I should never be naive and trustworthy!
Later on, at the Lufthansa lounge I do some research and find, I am not the only one feeling cheated by the Spa. ROBBED! I join a blog to tell my story and here it is:
Hello girls, I am sitting at the Lufthansa lounge at JFK, waiting for my plane back to Portugal. I am deeply shocked, shaken, steaming and very disappointed, never mind the angry part!!! 5 days ago, when we arrived in NY, we went shopping at Ferragamo, 5th Ave. I bought a stunning pair of boots, that cost a small fortune, but it is Christmas my husband said. Since they were a bit too big on my legs, I asked if Ferragamo has a shoe-service, which might fix it. The charming French salesman was very keen on telling me about the super-duper shoemaker, the LEATHER SPA!!! Please imagine my voice like some horror movie now!!! Excited I went, first thing Monday morning, in the pouring rain to the SPA. I was positively impressed by the clean and elegant set up, and the incredible amount of shoes waiting in the shelves. I said, mmmmhhhhhh, must be good. The lady there, a smug looking pretty thing with eyes not too honest (always trust your 1. instinct, girl!!!) was so charming and helpful and said she has no problem, special for me, to fix them by Thursday afternoon. She did her job very professional and I was verrrrrrry impressed. When she punched in the amount, at the cash register downstairs, a huge amount of 138$ was asked. Now, I thought, this is NY, no? Must be the prices here. SO I PAID!!! She gave me just a handwritten ticket and told me to call her Thursday morning, if she does not call me, or something like that. Ok, happy I left, called my hubby, told him that this prices in NY are mad, but it is NY, he answered. Ok, nice boots, we can pay more to have it done perfectly. Thursday arrives. We pack up. We rush around. I forget to call. We get there around 2.30, give our receipt to a man, who checks and the boots are not there. I ask her for help, she takes the receipt and looks, makes a call for me. She is again sweet and nice and says, "Oh, I told you to call me...They are still in Long island...I told you to call me!" Ooooops, sorry, can we just get them here, even if not done? Our taxi is waiting for pick-up at 6.30 to take us to JFK. "Ok, ok, will do, I can do stuff, because I want very happy costumers, you know!" She is soooooo nice. I think, I was so wrong thinking her not good the 1.time. Than a client appears, very unhappy complaining about her shoes not having the color she ordered. The shoe lady insists, that it is not her fault! The unhappy client says, that she was told that the color may be just a bit lighter, but this is a different color all together, and she paid 40$. Not her problem the shoe woman says, and tells her some rather rude things. Poor lady leaves, close to tears. I again wonder, am I wrong or right about my gut feeling on this woman... She waves us out and says at 6 it will be all good. Than she calls after us, "Oh, let me give you a new ticket" and she writes it out for us. I trust her and we go for a walk at the museum and at 6 sharp we are back. She smiles, asks for the ticket, we get the boots, I try them, all ok and she than says: 187$ I think 187, oh, must be 1$87 for the delivery. ??? 187$, she repeats. I say, "what you mean, I paid when I came." She answers that nobody pays before, and if so it would say on my ticket PAID. I am so shocked and confused, that I do not put 1and1 together now, since we have a new ticket. I am wondering actually, if maybe I did not pay? Can it be??? But hey, I called my husband, told him the price, and I had also written it on my blog page, not published yet, but saved and ready to be launched. I tell her that I know I had paid, I was there when she punched the number in the register, when she gave me back my change. She now tells me that it is normal, she ALWAYS thinks she does something, but than she does not...It is ok..I am just confused. I know what I do and I know when I pay, but her words make me doubt myself. I turn to my hubby and he confirms that we spoke about the huge $$$$ she had charged me just to take in my boots. She than tells us that we are LIARS!!!! We should be grateful to her, she did EVERYTHING for us, and now we say we paid, while this is not true!!! There are more people in the shop, staring at us and I can not believe any of this. Pure evil, manipulative woman. She tells me-" If you paid you must have a receipt, no?" I search my bag, panicked now, bright red, of course no receipt. The receipt, if one can call it that, was the paper we had given to her in the afternoon. It had said 138$ on it, but I do not know, if there was a scribbled remark, saying-PAID. I think there was not. I think I am naive, stupid and dumb for trusting a place that looks so well and clean and busy. I am also stupid for not being more alert, with a woman that smelled wrong from the 1. second. She tells us, that we can leave the boots with her, since we don't have the money. Her guts for such game seems outrageous. I am so angry, sad, hurt, in disbelieve, that my husband takes over. No luck. We are liars that do not want to pay her-her the good woman who went out of her way to make us HAPPY. Or should she say: TO STEAL US< CHEAT US>RIP US OFF!!! My husband pulls out the 187$!!!!!! (SCAMMMMM), as we have a plane to catch and he choose the boots for me. He asks for a receipt and she says, that this machine does not have receipts!!! She than scribbles 187$ on a piece of paper (the same you get to pick up your shoes) We leave in shock. I am so overwhelmed, that I just can not believe what just happened. We spend more than 300$ on my boots, which would have cost me 20$ at my local shoemaker back in Portugal. If I am right, she cheated us-twice or even more, as the 138$ or 187$ seem very very high for such standard job. There is of course no price list anywhere to check. I think she also cheats the state by scribbling down handwritten receipts, so there will be no tax. She probably figured, since I am not from NY, and leaving this moment, in a great rush, she can get away with it it. I must admire her cunningness and her evilness, and wish her...well... It is Xmas, so I try to be nice. I wish her no more costumers and maybe a visit by some local police or taxman. So anybody who needs a shoe fix-find another place!!! Do not go to the Leather spa! Good luck, and please keep me posted on any helping ideas on how to defeat this kind of costumer service! Maybe I will come with an undercover camera next time, when in town? I will be, of course in disguise and undercover. I can see the headlines: "The great leather spa scam, solved by German tourist..." Fiction aside, I will also write an email to the Ferragamo salesman, to send his customers to a different address from now. Be careful out there and have a merry time, Anna
Bad luck does not end there though.
Returning, very very upset, to 70 Park to collect our bags, I find the little paper bag totally disheveled. A look inside assures my worst fear. My pottery has been send on a floor dance and pieces are scattered all over the bag. Ohhh... and I had a feeling, that this creation of art will not make it home in one piece. I felt it.
Funny, isn't it.
When I ask the receptionist about it, she calls the manager who kindly explains the watering Niagara falls me (crying now, after so much badness), that bags left in storage are not their responsibility.
I see.
???
New York.
Even if you ask someone (who is doing a job) to be careful and they don't, it is still your own fault. Ce la vie en Gotham city...
I want to go home.
Europe, I am coooooommmmmmmmmminggggggggggggg....
PS: But... with my newly found wisdom, I should realize, that none of this really matters...
???
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