A couple days ago, I

ate breakfast in and then wandered through Central Park. The large tour groups, each speaking a different (European) language, strolled past, staring up at the San Remo apartments (Dustin Hoffman apparently lives there?) and watching dogs slosh around in a fountain. Mothers pushed their infants in carriages around the Great Lawn. Hazy green algae lolled on the surface of The Lake. And runners of all ages, shapes, and sizes slogged past, the humid air pulling at their sagging shirts.

elected to go to Chinatown. In addition to visiting a museum, I planned to purchase bubble tea and maybe a baozi (rice bun, with or without filling), if time permitted. I descended into the subway tunnel and into the thick, unmoving air underground. It was like walking into a mildly malodorous sauna.

got caught unprepared in a rainstorm. Upon leaving the subway but before exiting the tunnel, I spied a small gaggle of people loitering around the stairwell. I found this curious—

—but soon understood their intentions when I walked into a pelting rain and an army of umbrellas.

“Stop sharing umbrellas!” an street merchant yelled into the stagnant crowd at the corner of Canal and Lafayette. “Get your own umbrella! Stop getting wet! Umbrellas! Five dollars!”

I had packed an umbrella for the trip, but I hadn’t tucked it into my messenger bag. This New York rain was not comparable to contemporary Seattle rain; it consisted of large droplets (doubly so from the dribbles off of neighboring umbrella spines) that assertively flicked at the skin of my arms, neck, and face. Realizing that I would soon be soaked, I purchased the five dollar umbrella and mashed my way through the thick mob.

visited the Museum of the Chinese in America. It’s a tiny museum; it currently occupies a single room. It’s a simple exhibit and though informative, pales in comparison to the Wing Luke Museum in Seattle (which I am certain is overshadowed by the Asian museums in San Francisco).

The young woman working the cash register collected my two dollars, looked at my face, and queried, “Are you a student?”

“No, I’m not,” I answered, smiling. “But thanks.”

purchased bubble tea from the Ten Ren tea shop. No milk or sugar added, but quite possibly the best tapioca balls I have ever tasted. Good tea, too. I stood underneath the eaves outside and watched teenagers bemoan and curse at the rain, elderly tourists don plastic ponchos and hoods, local residents stoically lug bags of groceries, and tourists duck into kitschy stores in an effort to stay dry.

visited the Strand bookstore. This is an example of classical conditioning: Rain and books are not naturally linked, though I now associate reading books with rainy weather (where

smell of food = “boredom”
drooling = reading
bell = rain

and I am apparently the dog. It’s not the most flattering analogy. My apologies to Pavlov.)

wandered through the Upper West Side and eventually into Barnes and Noble. I apparently didn’t pack enough reading for my trip.

met Justin (again), long-time reader and now friend, for dinner. Our rendezvous point was the center of Columbus Circle. Although it is a distinct location, it is also very noisy and set the tenor for most of the evening: While not exactly shouting at him, I did have to speak louder than usual so we could actually engage in conversation while walking through some sort of food festival in Midtown, in a major chain restaurant (food is more expensive in New York), strolling through Grand Central Station, and avoiding (unsuccessfully) the crowds in Times Square. (I’m surprised that Mr. Peanut continues to have such a prominent presence in Times Square.)

went to bed the earliest I have gone to bed since I’ve been in New York. I was worried that I was falling ill (”ill” meaning “a cold with a sore throat and congestion”). I was sitting next to a guy on the plane who kept blowing his nose for the entire five hours. Darn it.

Yesterday, I

changed hotels. Thank you, Rowan, for the fabulous hotel recommendation. The digs are fantastic. (And not that he made this recommendation during my current trip—I’m not that impulsive.)

ate Sunday brunch at 2:00pm. A good friend of mine, a resident in emergency medicine, and his wife, a resident in physical medicine and rehabilitation, took me to Isabella’s, where I enjoyed a chocolate chip waffle. It’s actually just a delicious waffle with melted chocolate chips in the craters, plus a broiled banana on top. More wonderful than the waffle was the opportunity to catch up with them both. New York has provided them with a wealth of experience—clinically and otherwise—and I am sad that they shall be relocating soon.

ate the reportedly most delicious cookie in New York. It is a $3.50 cookie from Levain in the Upper West Side. It is one of those dense cookies loaded with chocolate chips that are just barely maintaining their structural integrity within—the interior of the cookie somehow retains heat, even though it was baked hours ago. They’re not too sweet and the consistency of the cookie isn’t mushy, but not spongy, either. I generally prefer that my cookies do not have nuts, though the walnuts added both nice flavor and texture to this dense cookie. It was an excellent cookie, though I must confess that I’ve had better (without nuts).

discussed healthcare in New York City. The system in which we all learn and practice medicine affects the quality and efficiency of care we give to patients. The laws in New York differ from those in Washington, which differ from those in California. Part of the challenge of moving to a new location is learning all the foibles in the law… and there seem to be significant quirks in the laws of New York City. Although I can’t say that I’m a huge policy person, learning the back stories to these processes is interesting and reveals how much of healthcare is driven through fear of blame (also known as litigation).

had snacks with a friend from medical school. Where “snacks” really means “bar food” in a lounge overlooking Columbus Circle. She and I last saw each other about two years ago. She is almost done with her OB/Gyn residency and shared scandalous tales within her residency program—possibly even more salacious than the tales in Gray’s Anatomy. (!) The last time I saw her, she looked like a woman in New York: She was wearing three-plus-inch heels, a sparkly dress, a lot of colorful makeup, and bright jewelry around her neck. This time, she wore jeans and a nice sweater jacket over a tank top.

“I’m dressed down,” she said. “I usually dress up more when I go out.”

She plans to return to California upon the completion of her residency and remarked that she is “totally New Yorked out”.

“But,” she continued, “I think it’s great that you’re out here. It’s like I’ve been living in a movie for the past few years. New York is an amazing place. I’m so glad that you’ll be heading out here.”

The ability to converse easily with an old friend despite a time gap of two years (or more) is a blessing.

Thus far today, I

attended my second interview. I think it went well. Programs, like people, have distinct personalities and, as I had anticipated, I like this fellowship program. The program and I have similar interests. We seem to complement each other well. Again, people asked about Mickey Mouse. This has apparently become my unintended calling card.

I still have four more interviews to attend for purposes of comparing and contrasting, though I shan’t be surprised if this program is the best “fit”. I only hope that, if that is indeed the case, the program ultimately agrees with my assessment.

ate New York pizza. It’s really good.

Tonight, I’m going to a Mets baseball game!