I could barely recall my trip to Florence 20 years earlier. I knew I’d seen the statue of David, and the Duomo, and loved its doors, and been surprised by how spare its interior was compared to its façade. I…
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What I Learned at Doctor Zhivago’s Revolution
It took me a half a dozen tries to get all the way through the three-hour-long 1965 film Doctor Zhivago, a love story set amid the backdrop of the Russian revolution but filmed elsewhere. Starring Omar Sharif as a doctor-poet,…
Our Perestroika
What’s engaging about the 2010 documentary, My Perestroika, and that was largely absent from my own visit to Russia isn’t so much the views of Moscow but the captured moments of real Russians, those not selling anything to tourists or…
It Took Me a Lifetime to Get to the Kittle House, and Now I Need to Go Again
Roads through Russia
The story in the film Roads to Koktebel, that of a widower trekking to the Black Sea with his young son in the hope of starting a new life, seems emblematic of the Russian experience. The characters are resolute, obdurate.…
Remember the Plaza?
After a carriage ride through Central Park, crossing 59th Street for a cocktail at the Plaza Hotel seemed a logical next step. There in the land of Eloise, though, the reality was not quite as perfect as my memories of the place. The Oak Bar is closed, the result of some apparent arrears in rent payments. (It should reopen in a couple of months, a concierge maintained. For now, padlocks remain on its doors. There’s a lawsuit.) The Palm Court just seemed crowded. Tea is okay in the Champagne Bar, but, really, I just wasn’t up for cocktails in the lobby.
Up to the Rose Club we went. The ambience was perfect for a wintry Saturday afternoon. Dark and paneled, the place offered refuge with nice lighting. My mistake was heading for the ladies’ lounge. Trash bins were overflowing and the place was a mess. The attendant just commented, “We’ve been busy.” Doing nothing, apparently.
I was soothed by our Irish coffees, which were perfect and overflowed with freshly whipped cream. Refrain from using the facilities, and you’ll be just fine.
© Lori Tripoli