There's No Cure for the High Pressure of New York

The “Salsa Congress”

When I first heard about the “Salsa Congress” in New York City, I pictured people sitting around having prolonged discussions about salsa dancing. After all, it is a congress! Instead, the title referred to an event in which people come from all parts of the world to dance the salsa for a few days and nights. Apart from those giving performances and demonstrations, anyone can ask anyone else to dance. Attendees make the most of it by dancing with as many people as possible. It is a sensual dance that requires each couple to make contact at the hip.

The New York Open Tennis Tournament

We are fortunate enough to have the players staying at our hotel. As a result, some of the world’s most famous tennis players are part of our everyday lives: at breakfast, the gym and the hallway.

New York’s a ‘high pressure’ town.

No medicine can bring it down.

And that’s the great thing about it.

Rock Sounds in the Dome

At the entrance to the famous Gotham Hall, celebrities make their way along the characteristic blue carpet. Journalists ask questions while cameras flash from behind a metal certain.

The architecture of the lobby reminds one of a church. The sparkling dome stretches endlessly, perhaps 100 meters high. Beneath it, thousands have gathered for what seems to be a rock ‘n’ roll mass. In reality, it is the birthday celebration for the long-deceased Michael Jackson. His icon, which is sponsored by Pepsi, outshines all the others. It is joined onstage by other electrified icons representing Ne Yo, Melanie Fiona and Swizz Beatz. Each raises floods of adoring shrieks are they are presented one after the other. Famous DJs soon join them.

Yes, it’s a real cosmic storm as thousands of cell phones flash and pop, a real rock ‘n’ roll mass.

After Party

We slip into an Italian Restaurant on Broadway after leaving. It seems to be one of the older haunts of the city. On the way out the door, we see Magic Johnson snapping a photo with some friends.

From there, we go to the after party. There is no tension, sizing up or cold glances exchanged between ladies. Everyone is free to do whatever he or she pleases. No one is putting on airs or projecting a “holier-than-thou” attitude. Every minute of the night is pure fun.

I’m sure that somewhere else in America, interviews with the presidential candidates and their spouses are running on constant loop. Elsewhere, the screen shows repeated images of the destruction left by Hurricane Isaac. Yet I hear nothing about either of these things from anyone the whole evening.

Farmed Caviar

A friend in our group wins a drawing that is taking place in the lobby of our hotel. It is as if a few hundred dollars has suddenly fallen from the sky. We add some of our own pocket money to his new fortune in order to sample a treasure for lunch: some of the world’s best caviar and salmon, served with an ice-cold flute of vodka, from Petrorussian restaurant.

Watching two obese ladies at the next table stuffing themselves with caviar, we force ourselves to repeat a mantra: “There’s no such thing as an ugly woman; there is only such a thing as not enough vodka.” We share this with our waiter, who has become curious about our conversation. His response?

“I’ll tell my boss to hang a sign with that slogan.”

We are served thick-cut smoked salmon, the kind that was once served to the tsars. However, the caviar is farmed. According to what I read while in the U.S., wild caviar is no longer sold anywhere in America; it is only produced on farms, as caviar has basically become endangered. In the past, the Caviar House in Paris used to sells cans the size of a block of cheese. You’d finish it in an hour, then move to open a second one. Now, I am not sure about Paris, but in America you can only get the farmed variety, and even 50 grams costs an arm and a leg.

The flavors of the hazel-colored Iranian and Russian caviars are particularly noteworthy. My friend, who is the head of the Azeri Diaspora, has me try some of the white caviar from the Caspian Sea. In my opinion, our fresh, unsalted Turkish Bafra caviar is the best. It is apparently also the favorite of Princess Margaret, a member of the English royal family. Her friends in Istanbul have it delivered to her by the kilogram. Someone should call her and let her know where she can find it in New York! Farmed varieties have started to be imported into Turkey as well.

Many will ask whether a debate over wild or farmed caviar is valid in a world with so many problems and so much distress.

And yet …

That’s just how the world turns.

This is simply a fact of life.