It must be love

The blazing summer day with heat peaking above 90 was enough reason that I almost backed out of my date at the US Open with my nieces. It was not an option. Melissa and Nina would be disappointed. It's not so much that Issa paid a fortune for our tickets which she didn't because she got an unbelievably cheap deal from Fandango, but that Auntie won't be there to take lots of their photos and then blog about their experience.

Nina is in town for a few days en route back home to the Philippines from Ohio. An admitted city girl shopaholic, she badly needed an antidote to her boring two-week business trip to sleepy Cincinnati where a strip mall and the company cafeteria are the best that P&G could offer. In New York, she and Issa paired up shopping all over town and outside too, barely making it to our meeting time at the gate to the Open.

Waiting didn't bother me. I was chatting away with some folks who are in the same predicament as I am. Only difference is that their tickets are in the hands of a friend who's already engrossed watching an ongoing match inside at the Louis Armstrong Stadium. Some friend, I thought, leaving these people out in the cold. I was also busy watching the mass of what could be part of New York's racket-toting preppy population as they march down the flyover from the #7 train all looking very eager to watch top-seeded Nadal and the skillful and glamorous Sharapova in today's first round draw, separately of course.


Camera on one hand bubble tea on the other, here they come. I got my ticket and we all started walking thru the gate. But hey, where's Issa? Right behind us. But what's that she's squirting all over her arms? Oh, the girl was busted. Her aerosol sunscreen can was tossed at the entrance. Better get used to this. Sweet Melissa is known for her nonconformist behavior always trying to sneak in prohibited items thru any security checkpoint and often successfully. How does she do that? Cleverly.

And I stay out of it. Words of wisdom culled out of memories of my youth I try not to offer. If they want advice they can get it from YouTube or their Facebook friends. How do I get along with my young ones? I catch myself before throwing that piece of outdated advice and try to resist saying "when I was young" or "during my time." That seems to work in bridging that pesky generation gap.

After some photo shots, they both charged into the USTA shops. I forgot my hat so I myself was forced to buy one against my will. It was pricey. You could walk in those shops with $1000 in your pocket and come out with but a few coins. Bottled water is $5.50 a pop and don't ask how much we paid for lunch. It was highway robbery.



Under the punishing midday sun we watched in Ashe Stadium the number 3 seed Novak Djokovic's victory over friend and fellow Serbian Viktor Troicki. The grueling match took 3 hours and 40 minutes. Asked how he felt to see the sun disappear, Djokovic's hot analogy was, "It was great. It was like sleeping with my girlfriend." How did I survive that heat you ask? It Must Be Love - love for my sweet nieces. They're half my age, nothing bothers them, not this heat.

The next match was Maria Sharapova against Jamila Groth. At this point I left the kids. They moved further down the stands stealing some other folks' seats and stood there for a long while transfixed at the tall, break- your- neck-when-you-talk-to-her-tall, and gorgeous Sharapova. I love that she stuck with the more sedate tennis outfit that's rarely seen on the courts these days. Hers is something like Coco Chanel could've designed, colors never clashing with the color of the court.

I would learn later that she won the match.

Well, it's time for me to let you loose, kids. It's getting late, I gotta go. I wouldn't be there to thwart your plans of going wild, so can I trust you to behave yourselves? I love you guys but I can't stay.

Bye, bye, enjoy but don't steal the sparkle from Sharapova.

Golfstruck

Partly blocked by a bazooka-length photo lens, I watched Tiger tee off on the first at yesterday's finals at The Barclays. I didn't think that the stellar first round was merely blind luck for this fallen golf icon and yet I wasn't sure if he will come out victorious after last week's announcement that he is now officially single. Whatever mess he got himself into, I'm still rooting for him.

I'm no golf junkie and certainly not big on stats or standings in this sport. I was just there for Tiger and for the scenery as usual, nature walk if you will. Watching him tee off up close and later hit some good shots was enough excitement to last me for a long time.

No, I didn't scour the freebie section of Craigslist for tickets to the Playoffs. Our golf nut friend Pachu called our head nut Chong and offered us free tickets to the tournament. It's not every day that such good luck comes along so she grabbed it and since golf is all about friendship, yeah, yeah, yeah - I tagged along.

For the first time The Barclays tourney is being held at The Ridgewood Country Club in Paramus, New Jersey. Paramus isn't such an appealing draw for me since I've known the place to be just another premium outlet shopping district, but to my surprise it's a most desirable upper class neighborhood.

Well, we found the place after following the lousy signs to General Parking which led us circling the area a couple of times. This time Lady Jane was not to blame. It's a given, it's a curse! You are in New Jersey so you MUST spend half your life looking for whatever it is you're going to.

Chairs in tow, we boarded the shuttle at the Bergen Community College parking lot where I felt cheated having to pay $10 for parking. That's ludicrous. Not even at the US Open at Bethpage did they charge for parking.

When we arrived, lo and behold, Tiger was practicing his putting and every putt either went in or just short of the hole. Awesome. Other players strode by. I was golfstruck! (Does the word even exist?)

After wandering the grounds checking out the 18th hole grandstand and the concessions area of course, I told Pachu and Chong to leave me and just go ahead follow their favorites on the course. I have to stay put. I can't ignore this sciatica flare up and risk being incapacitated for the rest of my non-golfing life, ha. Plus it didn't get out of the 90's and I'm allergic to the sun. It was downright hot.

The two ladies took pity on me and for the most part sat by me as I took shelter under the giant London Plane tree by the 18th hole. Perfect spot. I saw a lot of good shots.

What about that Rickie Fowler with his blinding all-orange gear? He said it's a salute to his school color Okie State U and not an endorsement deal with the Florida citrus folks!

And when Tiger and the other top seeds played, fans stood four or five deep. After they finish there's mass exodus. Tiger did not end up with victory at The Barclays but still proved himself to be right there with the leaders and with a huge following. Matt (Kooch) Kuchar won.

Thanks Pachu. I enjoyed The Barclays watching successful golf, not frustrating golf. I hear enough of that from my golf nut friends!

Promises fulfilled

It's always the same stuff every year, a sleeve of golf balls or sailing gear. Boring.

Rather than take her to the Pro Shop I decided to surprise Chong with a different birthday gift this time. We hopped on the train and headed for Broadway for a matinee show.

A veteran bargain hunter that I am, in case you haven't picked up on that, it took only a few seconds for me to reverse plans as soon as I spotted the TKTS discount booth. Rather than go to the box office and risk depleting my ATM withdrawal allowance for the day, I dragged Chong to the TKTS line. At this time the line-uppers are on the third loop around the block for the 11 am opening. What the heck; at half-off prices I see you have a great pair of legs, if you can drag your golf bag for hours and still sail till dusk, you can do this. I'm treating you and I'm cheap ( a $65 discounted ticket isn't exactly peanuts), so get over it. It's not always best to be the first on line anyway, you won't get the best shows.

It was a toss between Wicked and Billy Elliot. Bummer. The posting didn't include them. And the winner is Promises, Promises at 2 pm.

After a light lunch at John's Pizzeria as we walked towards the theatre, the fancy lobby of Bank of America across the street called out to me like Emma's gimme your tired your poor legs. It's an hour away till curtains up I'm shameless so I grabbed that comfy sofa seat and napped! Surprised? I got news for you - old people take plenty naps!

It was worth the wait.

Promises, Promises is a comedic little time capsule celebration of the 60s and the prevalent sexism in those days. It was a joke fest filled with pure talent and perfect comic timing. Sean Hayes showed a bit of his character Jack in the TV series Will and Grace but in no way did it ruin his exceptional performance. He was at his impeccable comic best.

Katie Finneran rocks as she performed the role of of a woman of loose virtue, the inebriated owl lady Marge MacDougall. She certainly stole the show in the second act, the audience agreed. Her timing was spot-on and that Tony award-winning owl "hoo" was just hilarious. Katie's time on stage was very short but memorable. I would've preferred to see more of her explosive act.

The music of Burt Bacharach/Hal David filled the air with some of my best memories of the 60s. I Say a L'il Prayer. I'll Never Fall in Love Again.

The verdict: this Broadway revival fulfilled its promises and I'm sure Neil Simon will be pleased.

What happened in 1907?

In 1907, Albert Einstein formulated E=mc2, Theodore Roosevelt served his second term, Rudyard Kipling won the Nobel Prize in Literature, the US first transatlantic radio transmission occurred, a loaf of bread cost five cents, eggs cost twenty cents per dozen, the average worker earned $12.98 for a 59-hour week, Ford Model R was first produced and sold for $700. Some of the great inventions include the washing machine, the vacuum cleaner, paper towel, the first canned tuna, color photography but most importantly........ my mother was born!

She shares the same birth year with Katharine Hepburn and Frida Khalo. She possesses some of Katharine's good looks but not quite the talent of Frida to earn herself a Google doodle design. Still looking good for her age, keeping those silver locks immaculate, and always dresses her best for Sunday church.

Again? was the remark of Mao as he was told by his father George to join and celebrate his great grandma's birthday. Yup, all of 103 years and counting. Coming from a good stock of Filipino-Spanish ancestry, she lived to see five generations of her family. Imagine she even outdid my grandmother who lived only till her mid-90s.

And there's no sign of slowing down. Inang's mind is still sharp as a tack. Often asked what her secret is for long life, she has no answer. But I do. She doesn't stuff her face with food, quits eating when she's full. She can survive on veggies and a dinner of rice and milk. Best of all she loves life. She's a fighter and a survivor. But you better watch out, she can be bull-headed.

Nothing big, it was an intimate family celebration. This year is special since my sister is with us and everyone is thrilled with the announcement of a new little addition to the family - Barbara is expecting! Another cute apo for Inang.

It was a very good year 1907.

Beauty they say fades with age but it's hard to argue with genetics. Inang still looks great so maybe there's hope for me, ha..ha..ha..if I even reach 75.

Stingy bastards

It's playtime, my sister's here. The last time I saw Ditse was four years ago and although we speak a lot it's just not enough to fill the gaps that the years have created. It's absolute heaven to see her again. She arrived here yesterday after a visit to her son in Texas I figured before she gets hijacked in the corner by Inang who loves to do her motherly thing, let me show her around town since it's her first time in New York.

It was a life-saving offer from Nelsie to take us in her car to the city. Ditse was spared of the initiation to the NYC subway system something she must've quietly appreciated given that she has a bad knee. I can't imagine her struggling to get out of the way of insane subway riders running at mach speed sprinting from platform to platform to catch their morning ride. How can I convince my sister that it's okay, it's safe to live here. If you're not used to this it might shorten your life span by several years.

Lunch was at Alice Tully Hall with Judy, Chong and Nelsie. For Ditse it was a crash course on eating out cheapskate style. We didn't want to tip for service so we packed our own lunch and just bought their coffee. It took a while for my sister to get used to the high table and chair all she could do was smile and shake her head. What was I thinking? Is it worth it if my sister gets her hip fractured while trying to man-lift herself to a high counter chair?

"Stingy bastards". That's what we came to see - Bloody Mary and the South Pacific broadway musical. It was a short walk to the Vivian Beaumont Theatre and a hop, skip from the tourist-filled Times Square.

An hour before the show we had plenty of time to enjoy the grass and the sunshine.

Stingy the architects were not. Another welcome green space. The newly-renovated Lincoln Center Plaza includes a sloping green public lawn a picnic spot that forms a pavilion for some posh restaurant below. It adds a dramatic touch to the iconic reflecting pool with its Henry Moore sculptures standing on a basin of water which looks like a thin sheet of glass when viewed from a certain angle.



Enchanting would best describe South Pacific. It's full of memorable songs Ditse and I really enjoyed. "I'm gonna wash that man right outa my hair". I could tell Ditse had a great time.

It didn't seem to faze her but I hope the culture shock does not leave irreparable damage to my dear sister. She came from a quiet home up north in the mountains of Baguio and surrounded by rice terraces and sprawling farms. Green, everything is green in the country.

All I could think of now is how can I help cancel out the noise from the rushing fire trucks and ambulances and the annoying overhead planes of summer (my place sits between JFK and La Guardia airports), so she can quietly rest at the end of our day's tour. I'm sure she won't mind this for a few weeks but won't trade this for her life in the country.

I'm stingy with my pictures this time. It's such a joy to be with Ditse once again and I cherish every second so I'll save all the photos for later.

This dress rocks

Decades ago, it was cow statues displayed all over the city and now it's Sidewalk Catwalk. We call that public art New York style. It is something for anyone who is a slave to fashion. Some 32 custom-built mannequins are on display runway-style down Broadway in the heart of the Fashion District featuring the work of NYC's top fashion designers.

Boxy and bold, splashy padded shoulders are out and well-cut suits are only for the Wall Street folks. So what's your dress uniform?

Here's some of what I think are the quirkiest designs some creative others plain dumb and ridiculous. I reserved the front row seats for you, so be the judge.

This dress rocks, don't you think?

It was designed by two of the aspiring designers from the Parsons School of Design.

Sea shells? I forgot, Manhattan is an island.

Are you kidding, psychedelic body? The 50's are a blur to me.

Nanette Lepore, I'm terribly disappointed in you.

A deflated balloon or a waterlogged giant diaper?

It's flag day Tommy Hilfiger style.

Cutesy but not creative.

Here's Kenneth Cole making a statement. What do you mean?

Further down on Times Square two of the pianos which is part of another art installation Play Me, I'm Yours could be found tied down to hollow blocks. 60 of these pianos decorated individually by local artists are installed in public spaces throughout the five boroughs. New Yorkers and visitors from all over the world are encouraged to play them.

This guest must be feeling like a first-class virtuoso as he plays right smack in the middle of the crossroads of the world. There was a line behind him of people waiting their turn but he wouldn't let go.

And what do we have here? Some dance craze of the 60's it looks like. Help me out, is it the monkey? I can't remember.

And for those who've worn their gaskets into the ground.

You never know what you'll see when you wander the streets of Manhattan. You just have to remember them. This is the trouble with my catch-up blogging, loads of boring pictures. I have to follow my own rule that if it's not written down it didn't happen, gotta take better notes since I have serious recall problem.

Hello Brooklyn!

Guilt, guilt, guilt. It's the borough next door and I'm not familiar with it. Sadly, I could drive for miles on the Brooklyn Queens Expressway and not have a clue where I am or how to get out of it. Shame on me. Someone is bound to give me those condemning looks since I claim to be a true New Yorker and yet I haven't walked across the Brooklyn Bridge. So in order to free myself of this unpardonable sin of unfamiliarity with my neighbor, I feel the need to explore and walk the streets of Brooklyn.

People who don't know Brooklyn tend to think of it as a middle and lower class suburb of Manhattan. Not anymore. Nowadays, that's no longer the image most New Yorkers have. Gentrification seems to have progressed mercilessly in this city of many neighborhoods, some poor, some rich and others solid middle class.

Park Slope is an all time favorite nest for the yuppies while a good concentration of hipsters are found in the gentrified areas of Brooklyn Heights, Red Hook, Fort Greene, Williamsburgh, Boerum Hill, Cobble Hill, Carroll Gardens, and Prospect Heights. The primary lure are the gorgeous brownstones, outstanding restaurants, galleries, historic homes and churches along tree-lined streets and its proximity to Manhattan. It is culturally diverse and a gastronomic paradise. The downside of it is that living in South Brooklyn is no longer cheap!

First stop : Motorino's in Williamsburgh.

It's a Sunday morning and the game is on. Germany versus England.
Motorino's even has a World Cup menu special.




After watching Mike Colameco's feature of Motorino's as the best pizza place in town, I felt compelled to try it. I dragged Chong to this unknown spot in the neighborhood where we used to work. As we all know, pizza is a big deal in New York, so here we are on a mission. Forget about how you eat it, folded or with the use of knife and fork, there is as artisanal pie craze that's happening here and boy are we hungreeee!!!

Totally irresistible is the Prosciutto di Parma, puffy and crispy crust with generous amount of that salty ham. Mmmmm-good.

Margherita DOC with tomatoes, mozzarella di bufala and basil. The mozzarella made from buffalo milk is flown fresh weekly from Campania and the pizza cooked in wood-fired brick oven. Now that's respectable. Entire volumes could be written about pizza and this Motorino's signature dish could very well be in one of them.

It's a simple setting right on the Graham St. in Williamsburgh; the joint is a large high-ceilinged room with warm lighting over wooden floors and soft-hued marble. The air around is filled with the scent of the bubbling pizza. Five stars for Motorino's.

Next stop: Cobble Hill

Cobble Hill is a charming neighborhood filled with mouth-watering beautiful brownstones. Like the rest of Brooklyn, it is foodie-friendly and it boasts a local bookstore Bookcourt on Court Street - you wouldn't want to leave once you're inside and trapped in rows of shelves of neatly arranged wide selection of books.

Walk a few steps and grab lunch at a cafe or satisfy that sugar craving at Sweet Melissa's Patisserie.

Catch a movie at the nearby Cobble Hill Cinemas which shows a mix of first run, foreign and independent fare.

Or stroll with your kids or walk your puppy in this pet-friendly community...

Oh what a beautiful day, a perfect place to spend Sundays. I'm sold, I think I love Brooklyn. Who knows what you'll find in it, it is a culture all its own, it even has its own language. Fuggedaboudit, now I know I don't have to fly anywhere to find interesting places. It is right here, I just have to walk.

I'll see you at Red Hook next time.