Drove rented (ugly but roomy) car from Queens to New Lebanon, NY, stopping at Jimmy B’s for diner food. Then on to North Adams, Mass. We were staying at Porches Inn. Nice enough for your mom to call it divine, yet funky enough for Ann to dig.
Went to campus of Williams College. Listened to David Sanchez perform avant-garde jazz.
Drove around wondering where all the college kids go. It was 10 pm and everything was closed. Finally found the only open restaurant, the Water Street Grill, and had beer, chicken wings and chowder.
Visited Mass MoCa. It was awesome. Photos of this will appear soon.
Drove through gorgeous ice and snow on the Mohawk Trail. Photos of this, too, coming soon.
Drove and drove and drove. Ate in Leominster at an old Italian place, Monty’s. The woman in the booth next to us was like The Aviator and kept repeating Pasta Fagiola over and over. Finally stopped for the night at the Motel 6. Quite different from Porches.
After a breakfast at Denny’s, we drove to Providence, Rhode Island. Stayed with the great James Ruchala. He fed us gumbo and we yakked and yakked and we drank beer and ate at Julians in (on? atop?) Federal Hill.
Went to the RISD Museum. It was awesome but no photos will follow. I just kinda spaced on taking photos that day. It rained. We were cold. Went to the Cable Car, the greatest movie theater in humanity, and saw a pretty good film. When we got our car was snowed over. Like a guardian angel James Ruchala, whose classes at Brown had just ended, escorted us home.
We drank whiskey and looked at the snow on Federal Hill and leafed through books and ate ice cream and watched Mr. Show and listened to Howlin Wolf and Thelonius Monk and Dave Van Ronk and learn about coffee milk, the state drink of Rhode Island.
Drove to Newport, RI. Man, it was cold. Had the greatest bowl of chowder ever. Looked at wharf, lighthouses, talked with nutty woman who ran candle shop. We saw the Vanderbilt’s Breakers mansion. It was something. Bunked at the Castle Hill Inn. Took bubble Jacuzzi bath. Photos of all of this to come. Especially me in the bath.
Drove around looking for a recommended restaurant, the Brick Alley Pub. When reading directions it was tough, but when we just used the force we found it easily.
Breakfast at the beautiful Inn. It was beautiful. We could never afford this beautiful place in season.
On the road to Dia: Beacon we felt compelled to give em a call. Turns out they were closed that day. With no where else to go, and our purses a little lighter after the lovely Castle Hill Inn, we wind up coming home a day early. But we stop for dinner in Greenpoint and have kick ass Polish food. The restaurant is just called Polish Restaurant. Decor looks like a mini version of The Fireman’s Ball could break out at any moment. Awesome stuff.
Next day, back to Beacon. The town of Beacon sucks. It is a hole. North Adams, Mass has character, Beacon, NY does not. But the Dia rules. It rules! Illegal photos to come.
Next stop: Arthur Ave in the Bronx. We have awesome Italian food at Emilia’s and pastries down the block. The old women in the table behind us yenta at full volume straight from central casting. It is difficult not to laugh, but I do get involved in their conversation when they talk about Fred Astaire v. Gene Kelly.
We check out more art at the Morsel Gallery and see the lovely Beth and Jan. There is whiskey cider, but no heat.
