Union Square, Market
Union Square isn't exactly walking distance, so our farmer's market is a bit more of a hike than the Byward Market was when I lived on Clarence Street in Ottawa. But it's nice to have it all the same, in this metropolis among metropoles. Since most of our groceries come from Fresh Direct, or glorified convenience stores like Gristedes or Zaytuna (or arrive hot to our door in little plastic containers with paper napkins and fortune cookies) a weekend trip to buy groceries at the outdoor stalls makes a very pleasant outing.
Union Square has other attraction too. It often has sidewalk artists, buskers, and other diverting politically or socially motivated interests making their cases. There's some decent shopping in the area, including a Barnes & Noble, and a Whole Foods (expensive as the dickens elsewhere, in New York the prices seem quite reasonable, if only relatively).
"Princeton could use a guy like..."
My office's holiday party was Friday night. Janet left her own office well before her usual hour to make the trek that I make daily in order that she could attend. It's much too far to grab a cab home, so we booked a hotel for the night. This gave us a chance to look around a little in the morning. I've been coming out to Princeton for a month now, but since I work in an office park on the outskirts I hadn't seen the town itself yet. It reminded me of Kingston, without the lake. We accepted a colleague's recommendation and had breakfast at PJ's Pancake house, apparently a Princeton institution.
Many of my colleagues are from South Asia, and I'd already met a few from Europe, so it wasn't too surprising that the party on Friday night turned out to be a very international affair (And blessedly free from speeches, although I might happily have traded that for the karaoke). Since I've so recently joined the company, and so many of the people I work with day-to-day are from other offices so didn't stay for the party, I knew hardly a soul. Without my own clique, Janet proposed that we join the table where the women had the nicest shoes. It seemed arbitrary, but in fact the selection of companions who dressed well turned out to be a wise strategy. It meant we were sitting with stylish people who came planning to enjoy themselves: there was a couple from France, a Dutch couple and a pair from the Côte d'Ivoire, as well as two more Canadians (we're everywhere). I'm going to pay more attention to footware from now on.
(If you don't remember the quote in my title, it's from "
Risky Business".)
