Long gone are the days when I walked with my dad north along Park Avenue from Grand Central Terminal en route to his place of work and then mine. One of the games we’d play, yup, it was a game, though I was in my early 20s, he in his 50s, was to try to guess the country of origin of the flags that adorned the exterior of the Waldorf Astoria.
I had warm feelings of remembrance as I trekked south this week, sun on my face, hop in my step. The heels of my shoes made a clip-clopping sound as I passed other New Yorker’s in the summer finery and admired the green and blue of the flag that flew beside our own red, white and blue stars and stripes. I guessed the former was the flag of Brazil.Back in the day there was a plaque on the Waldorf facade that confirmed or clarified our guesses. Yesterday, there wasn’t a plaque but thanks to google images, I confirmed my speculation.
I haven’t been to Brazil but hope some day to get there. In the meanwhile, most days, New York City offers plenty of international flair, by no means does this replace the first hand experience of travel but it’s what I’ve got.
The one word I know, thanks to dear sweet Gi and Lu in LA is kisses. So to my friends, beijos (Bay-zho). xoxo