The Flatiron Building:
Washington Square Park:
Me at Washington Square Park feeling very Rachel Berry-ish:
Brunch in Nolita (right now at the first place in my neighborhood ranking):
Little Italy. Probably one of the worst places I've seen in New York. What a shame:
Aaaaaand after stalking every single bar from Little Italy to the West Village, I finally found a place that let me see Juventus-Inter (now I wish I didn't). With also a nice English musician who was singing literally behind my back. Right into my ears. But he had a nice accent so I forgive him. Also because he was very cool about my unfortunate comment. This is the story: I am in this bar with a Swiss girl and a Swiss-Italian guy. The singer asks about famous Swiss singers and they agree on the fact that there's none. So I find nothing better to say than: -They work, they don't sing.
Awkward.
Awkward.
Still awkward guys, but if we all ignore it, it will just pass.
But then the singer says: -oh, thank you, what are you tryin' to say?
And I just babble something like: - no, I meant it in the best way possible. And turned back to face the TV screen and die a little inside.
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