We left New York and were headed to Montréal.  I could not wait to hear the sounds of French again and was excited to be off.  We boarded some type of smaller plane that completely freaked me out.  I still hadn’t flown much and this thing had one aisle with two seats on either side.  The engine was really loud and the whole thing felt shaky.  That’s the only time I’ve had a panic attack in the air — even when we were in that helicopter on a glacier in Alaska.  Suffice to say, I was doubly glad to get there.  We were spending one night in Montréal before heading on to Québec City and we were staying at the original Ritz-Carlton.  It felt very Edwardian and I loved our white marble bathroom.  I discovered Montréal overall though is a very modern city.  Since I live in a city that rips everything down every two seconds it felt like a newer, sleeker, French version of Dallas.  When I asked our concierge about dinner recommendations I stopped the minute I heard “loup.”  That’s “wolf” in French and I was ECSTATIC!  Burk was fine with it so our bellman hailed a cab and we were on our way.  We were dropped off at a charming restaurant which read “LALOUX”.  Both sound the same but in my excitement I missed the “la” when I knew that “wolf” is “le” which is masculine.  This just turned out to be the last name of the chef.  Oh well it was truly one of the best meals of my life and Burk made friends with a guy his age at the next table who was a member of Parliament.  It was fascinating speaking with him and he graciously allowed me to translate even though he spoke a little English.  The next morning we ate our breakfast in front of a little duck pond at our hotel.  I should have known there was a French connection; the Hotel Ritz in Paris’ first arrondissement (the heart of the city) was the first in Europe to provide bathrooms en suite.  Our hotel was about to undergo renovations and I found myself glad we got to see it as it was.  Confucius said, “Wherever you go, go with all your heart.”  That is exactly what we have always tried to do.

It was our last day in the Big Apple and we still had places we wanted to see.  First up:  the famed American Museum of Natural History.  I had been wanting to go since I was at least seven.  Of course Burk had been many times but he loves museums like I do so he was just as excited to go.  Built in 1869, it is one of the largest museums in the world.  I had no idea it was across from Central Park.  It houses over 32 million specimens of plants, humans, animals, fossils, minerals, rocks, meteorites, and human cultural artifacts.  Their mission statement is “to discover, interpret, and disseminate information about human cultures, the natural world, and the universe though a wide-ranging program of scientific research, education, and exhibition.”  The 63 foot-long canoe carved by the Haida Indians was nothing short of spectacular and the dinosaurs were more incredible than I had imagined.  Many were suspended from the ceiling in such as a way as to appear almost animated.  I didn’t have to lament their deaths because I knew they weren’t from any hunters’ guns so I was free to study and marvel at their size.  I felt a great deal of sadness for all the animals in the Theodore Roosevelt Hall of North American Mammals.  I understand the dioramas and taxidermy are skills; but those poor animals’ deaths in the name of preservation sickened me.  In the Hall of North American Forests we saw a slice of a giant sequoia dating back more than 1,400 years felled by lumberjacks in 1891.  It once stood more than 300 feet tall.  Thankfully, it is now illegal to cut them down.  After the museum we decided to do something a bit more light-hearted so we headed to the huge Toys-“R”-Us in Times Square.  We rode the 60 foot indoor ferris wheel where we got our picture taken and put in a magnet as a souvenir.  An ironic recap of our time in New York, we saw the LEGO Empire State Building, Broadway just outside the vast windows, and a huge animatronic T-Rex.  Next we had our final dinner in a now closed restaurant named Gino’s.  I had no earthly idea why zebras covered the red walls but I know they greeted Burk like he was a prince.  Always self-effacing, my sweet husband blushed under the attention as they proudly escorted us to our table.  This place was OLD school Italian and these men had known him since he was a little boy.  A man behind the bar came over to our table and, in a horrifying stage whisper, slapped Burk on the back congratulating him for marrying “such a beauty” and proceeded to extol the merits of doing so “before the bloom was off the rose.”  Burk was horrified and I vaguely considered telling the man I was on my way to being 38.  I kept thinking of “Beauty and the Beast” where there is one petal left on the rose — and it’s just about to fall.  But Burk’s father’s family had a long history with this place and I did not want to seem like some blue stocking feminist or harridan so I just smiled.  We had a lovely meal and I had their famous “salsa segreta” (secret sauce) which I suspect was a red vodka sauce mixed with some type of heavenly white cream sauce.  I’m so glad I got to go, as it was such a part of my husband’s past.  It saddens me that they have closed and we did not get to go back.  Swedish author Jan Myrdal said:

“Traveling is not just seeing the new; it is also leaving behind.  Not just opening doors; also closing them behind you, never to return.  But the place you have left forever is always there for you to see whenever you shut your eyes.”

It was day three in New York City and Burk wanted to see where the World Trade Center towers used to stand.  He said the skyline felt empty without them.  We went down to see a huge, yawning, hole one city block wide with dust rising up from the construction.  It was 2008 and still so shocking to see the emptiness despite the fact that I had never been.  Wandering away I stumbled upon an old graveyard in a tiny church nearby.  As I studied the tombstones dating back to the Revolutionary War I was delighted to discover it was in an Episcopal Church!  Everyone in the world probably knew that but me.  It was the Parish of Trinity Church on Wall Street.  Seeking respite from the dust, sadness and noise, the highlight of my time in New York was walking into the beautiful church’s quiet, reassuring serenity.  It wasn’t a Sunday but they were having a noonday worship service.  Burk and I kneeled and slid into an old, high wooden pew with a door made to help keep out the cold during the winter months a long time ago.  I loved the feel of privacy and found myself wishing our church had them.  As an Episcopalian, it was a joy to be in my own church.  More than anything I remember the mantle of peace that settled around me when right outside the cacophony of controlled chaos abounded.  A small Gothic Revival church, its spire and cross was the highest point in the city until 1890.  Walking out to discover the sculpture pictured above and just outside the church was the added balm to my soul.  “The Trinity Root” is a bronze sculpture created directly from the base of the great Sycamore tree that helped save St. Paul’s Chapel (part of the the church) and the historic cemetery from falling debris after the collapse of the twin towers.  When one sees how close the little church is I believe it is a miracle it was not destroyed.  The 70 year old tree was felled by the impact of the enormous crumbling buildings across the street and absorbed shockwaves which a physicist has compared to those of a small nuclear bomb.  It was laying in such a way as to shield the historic chapel and its ancient tombstones.  Sculptor Steve Tobin carefully worked to preserve the natural remnants of the now famous Trinity tree root using the “lost wax process”.  It is made of bronze and its actual sprawling root branches are 20 feet long, 15 feet wide and 12 1/2 feet tall.  Next we had lunch on the street like real New Yorkers.  As a vegetarian, I had always wanted to try falafels and they had a stand near the city’s oldest public park, Bowling Green, built in 1733.  They were absolutely delicious!  Wherever I go, wolves and Native peoples/things always find me — or I find them.  This time was no different.  We had no idea the National Museum of the American Indian was right next to us and got to study many of the pieces from peoples we had seen on our trip to Alaska.  To top it off the museum was free!  I would say this was definitely the hidden jewel of New York’s museums.  Burk’s Aunt lives in the city and she was having a party that night to celebrate her birthday.  It was lovely to be with family and drink champagne while we sailed around Manhattan on a chartered yacht at sunset.  The light refracting off the buildings was beautiful and we had a wonderful time.  English writer Augustus Hare said, “Thought is the wind, knowledge the sail, and mankind the vessel.”  We discovered, we learned, and we reflected upon it all as we glided over the water that night amidst the tangy spray of the sea.  It was a perfect ending to a lovely day.

Our second day we took a boat tour to see Lady Liberty.  I thought we’d be able to go up but it takes tickets months in advance to even get inside.  Still, she did not fail to impress.  The Francophile in me loved the connection with Alexandre-Gustave Eiffel, the man of course famous for the Eiffel Tower, but also for designing our statue’s steel framework.  French sculptor Frederic-Auguste Bartholdi created the statue itself using sheets of hammered copper.  The island where she resides is now known as Liberty Island and the Statue of Liberty remains one of the most recognizable landmarks in the world today.  When we disembarked I got Burk to sit still for another portrait.  (I don’t care for caricatures).  He felt like the one from our honeymoon in Paris made him look like a serial killer.  This one he felt made him look 12.  Next it was time to change for an unfashionably early dinner at the 21 Club.  I had seen pictures of it on TV but it was Burk’s childhood stomping ground as his Grandmother often dined there for lunch.  So I saw it with new eyes and Burk saw it through the lense of time.  Established in 1922, it was originally a small speakeasy that moved locations and was raided by police several times.  As soon as a raid began, a system of levers used to tip the bar shelves, sweeping the liquor bottles into the sewer.  We were essentially alone in the restaurant at that hour but that was more than fine with me.  I got to walk through the various rooms without being stared at while I took pictures.  After dinner we literally ran into Elmo on the street and I made Burk have his picture taken with him.  I feel so badly because I did not realize you were supposed to tip.  <cringe>  “The Phantom of the Opera” was everything I thought it would be and much, much more.  The set design was the best I’d ever seen.  Going down the staircase of The Majestic at intermission was a bit like stepping back in time.  It opened in 1927 and until the ’70’s was the largest theatre on Broadway.  Currently it has the longest running production with Phantom in Broadway history.  I have inherited my mother’s long-standing pet peeve of disiking Dallasites for jumping up to give a standing ovation for absolutely ANYthing.  She studied classical music for over 20 years.  THIS however definitely merited it.  And so with that I shall close with Andrew Lloyd Webber’s famous lyrics from “The Phantom of the Opera”:

“The Music of the Night”

Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination
Silently the senses abandon their defenses

Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor
Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender
Turn your face away from the garish light of day
Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light
And listen to the music of the night

Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before
Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar
And you live as you’ve never lived before

Softly, deftly, music shall caress you
Hear it, feel it secretly possess you
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind
In this darkness that you know you cannot fight
The darkness of the music of the night

Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world
Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before
Let your soul take you where you long to be
Only then can you belong to me

Floating, falling, sweet intoxication
Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in
To the power of the music that I write
The power of the music of the night

You alone can make my song take flight
Help me make the music of the night

I figured since I’d gotten to see Lady Liberty in Paris on our honeymoon I should visit our own Statue of Liberty in New York.  So for our first wedding anniversary Burk let me choose New York City and Québec.  We arrived at the airport and some Russian guy approached us saying we could ride in his limo for the same price as a taxi … with no waiting.  We said sure like a couple of idiots and found ourselves in the bowels of the airport parking lot.  I was relieved to note some type of badge in the guy’s dash once we eventually made it.  He was really very nice and took us to our hotel in a white stretch limousine that reminded me of the one I wanted to take to prom in the ’80’s.  It really was something in a dated sort of way and turned heads for varying reasons I’m sure.  Our hotel was right by the UN and they had a federal officer with a drug sniffing dog checking everyone’s bags before they entered.  Much to my horror, the yellow Lab lingered and lingered over ours … to the point of humiliation.  She just wouldn’t stop!  I finally explained to the large, well-muscled, non-smiling man that we had wolves and cats and that must be why she was so interested.  Yeah, like that made it any better.  We were eventually cleared and our poor bellman took our well-snuffled luggage up to our room.  Much like our honeymoon when we headed straight to the Eiffel Tower that first day, we decided to begin our trip by going up the Empire State Building.  As I have mentioned previously, we are not ashamed to be tourists.  At 102 stories, the limestone structure was the tallest building in the world from 1931 until 1970.  I loved its Art Deco style and had no idea it was named one of the Seven Wonders of the Modern World.  The project involved 3,400 workers including hundreds of Mohawk iron workers, many from the Kahnawake reserve near Montreal.  We also saw the beautiful Grand Central Terminal with its Beaux-Arts style and intricate designs both inside and out.  I was surprised to learn it is one of the world’s most visited tourist attractions.  Burk’s paternal Grandmother used to live at the incredibly posh, very exclusive Sutton Square in the ’70’s for over 20 years and he knew the streets like the back of his hand.  As a girl coming from the wide open spaces of Texas, I felt a little hemmed in.  It was hard to see the sun with the tallness of the buildings and my eyes continually burned with everything seemingly under perpetual construction.  Still, we’d had a nice first day and I made friends with our doorman who was from Cuba.  He and I spoke about cigars at length and he seemed genuinely delighted to have found a fellow aficionado.  As we headed up the elevator I found myself praying our building wasn’t going to sway in the wind; we were up pretty high.  Kurt Vonnegut referred to New York City as “Skyscraper National Park”.  That was my view of it as well.