“The traveler sees what he sees, the tourist sees what he has come to see.” ~ G. K. Chesterton
A wintry escape from New York’s hustle and bustle. Watching the night lights flicker from the 93rd floor of the Trump Taj Mahal. Floor-to-ceiling views. Indulging in gastronomic delights – champagne, oysters, tiramisu, limoncello – at Il Mulino. Playing poker, blackjack, and baccarat in plush surroundings: crystal chandeliers, gilded ceiling mirrors, exquisite mosaics. Opulence and hedonism.
Waking up to a spectacular sunrise over a never-ending stretch of the Atlantic Ocean. Sipping on a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Impatient to go outside and feel the cool wrap of winter’s breath. Catching the sun’s warm rays on a Boardwalk bench. A faultless day: blue skies, marshmallow clouds, a gold sun. Breathing in the refreshing sea air. An oxygen high. Boardwalking a mile there; a mile back. Photographing reflections, grassy sand dunes, puffed-up seagulls, lonesome pushing trolleys, architecture from another era. Seasonal food kiosks standing empty, for now. Chewing sticky ‘salt water taffy’ is sweet, sour, and yes, salty.
Dark clouds brewing in the distance. Seeing how the other half lives. Inspired by civil rights. Driving up and down the deserted Atlantic Avenue. Lusting after glorious Victorian houses along the way. Dreaming of ways to relocate for a week…. or four. Coming face-to-face with the larger than life, Lucy. Marveling at the beauty of the ocean’s shoreline. The gentle lap of waves. A flock of seagulls. Nostalgic for Sydney’s Pacific Ocean. But, I have the Atlantic. AC, I’m glad you’re only a few hours away from NY.