To schlep in the city that never sleeps...

Five days went by in a flash. I can't remember where I laid my head and where I rose, I only remember the hours and minutes inbetween. And they were jam packed with nothing but good times balanced only by schlepping. And what I mean by "schlepping" (and anyone and everyone who has visited new york knows exactly what I am talking about) is that we carried our bags and purses and cameras and coffees like camels in the desert. We went from neighborhood to museum, to apartment, to yankee stadium, to hotel, to meatpacking district and back to our little brookly abode long after our feet could register to take another step.

New York is inspiring in the biggest way. It's no mystery that people prefer the waking hours to sleep. You can't turn your head 20 small degrees without blessing your vision with some type of eye candy, whether it be neon signs, architecture, remarkable artwork, breakdancers, eden-like gardens high above the skyline, a fly ball to left field or a risky turn made by an all to seasoned taxi driver.

It is oozing with life. It is filthy. It is old. It is new. It is hidden and exposed. It is obnoxious and loud. And like everyone, she has her quiet moments too.

It was a wonderful and unforgettable time.

"These vagabond shoes, are longing to stray
Right through the very heart of it - new york, new york" -Frank Sinatra