Just returned from a 7-week stay in New York City. Saw Chris Rock in "The Mother F***er in the Hat," Zach Braff's play, "All New People," and walked, walked, walked the safe streets of an all new New York where it feels that every girl in her twenties thinks she's Carrie Bradshaw living her Sex and the City moment and every guy is too cool for school. Oh Brother. Yawn. But the noise, the energy and the surprise around every corner remains the same. The crowds, cabs and honking horns haven't changed and you can always count on meeting a grumpy New Yorker with a heart of gold.
Also just got back from London where you can't spot one native in sneakers and jeans; the men wear suits with skinny pants and bespoke shoes, the women are belted, booted and on-point in every way and there was sun for three days in a row. Sigh. London is New York on Valium, maybe even Prozac; a village with a cultural heart and soul where no-one takes themselves too seriously and you can go to a play and hangout with the actors in the lobby of the theater after the final curtain. Wow. My spriritual home, the entry-point to Europe, an historical Academy Award. I love this city. Visit my Twitter or Facebook pages to see more: Twitter:@writerandrea or www.facebook.com/andreamariethompson.
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