Rainy Days

"Oh my gosh, don't you just love this weather?" M exclaimed as we walked briskly out of her luxury doorman building in Fidi. It was absolutely horrendous weather, that dead silence before a massive storm. Even worse, we had just been hit with a wave of torrential downpour the night before, so the air was damp, the clouds hung low, and the skyline was as grey as ever.

"Uhhh, yeahhh," I muttered, failing at feigned enthusiasm. M had just moved to New York from Singapore (hence everything is and will be preceded by an oh my gosh for the first 6 months), where it's probably a year-round tropical paradise, so this weather may actually be kind of nice in her book. 

I had caught the 2 express train downtown to her apartment late morning, and we shared a large pan of home cooked noodles that she had prepared. Come over! I woke up to her text of a picture of a giant steaming pan of noodles. I was catching a cold so she also made me some hot green tea. "This is my favorite tea! Oh by the way, I went to yoga this morning. It was amazing!" She continued on in her upbeat mood as usual, before I could respond. So I sat there eating and listening to her as she went on about what she did in the last 12 hrs since she left work (went out dancing, slept, made super healthy egg sandwich breakfast, went to yoga, shopped at club monaco and got two cute shirts and pants at their 30% off sale, and then made such pan of noodles that I am currently munching on). She always had the most interesting things to say.

It was quite extraordinary, actually, for someone who was working 11-hr days in banking to still have this much energy. In just her 4 months here, she's been to nearly every festival, activity, restaurant (well, as many as you can go in 4 months), and neighborhood I've been in nearly one year. Instead of me giving her the tips, she was informing me of all the latest must-sees and must-eats of the city. M and I had just met two months ago at a friend's birthday dinner, and we were already too close to be seen without eachother. 

On our way walking to Tribeca's art galleries, we ran into this park by Fulton, which I proclaimed that we must check out (not realizing that we would be late for the gallery opening speech she had wanted to go to). That's the thing with M, she was a rare blend self-assurance and outspokenness while still being extraordinarily accommodating. I had a thing for parks, which she might have known. 

"You're going to be my model." I started posing her and snapping pictures here and there.

"Oh gosh, didn't know I signed up for this," she sighed, batting her lashes and making a face.

"Stay still," I ignored her. "Now relax."

She took a deep breath. "I will sacrifice myself for your photos."

"Stop it, you look beautiful."

And before we knew it, the rain started coming down. After missing the gallery opening, we ended up at Silk Road Cafe in Chinatown, where we ran into an old friend of hers. New York is small like that, even if you're not from here.

We slowly sipped on tea complemented by a lovely chocolate mousse cake as we peered out the windows into the rain at passerby's. M continued on about the new book she was now reading, the newest food items she now craved, and then of course boy stories. Ohhh, boys (or, uh, men, excuse us), they were always too interesting of a topic to pass up.