How come I don't do links anymore?
So last week-end's trip to Amagansett was a blast. I never even conceived of setting foot in the Hamptons, where the rich and famous "summer". But my cousin's friend worked for this guy who wasn't using his house (had not in fact been using it much this summer, and is planning to sell it for $5M) and so we hopped on the 8pm LIRR. We arrived in Amagansett at 11:30 pm, put our bags down and slid into our suits literally, and were in the spa by midnight. The warm, calming water melted away travel aches. The more daring ones of us (sis and I) attempted a dip in the supposedly heated pool, but it was just too cold and dinner was waiting.
After dinner we took a tour of the house. Built about 20-30 years ago, the house might be postmodern or art moderne, I'm not too sure about the difference. From the outside, it looks like a cube gone awry. In the living room, a huge sculpture which spins slowly when turned on, hangs from the ceiling. A glass panel looks out onto the pool and the backyard. There are six bedrooms tucked somewhere, a pool table, a room I stumbled into with a huge tub, and skylights everywhere.
We wanted to watch a movie in the cozy AV room with giant pillows and comfy blankets but it took us 30 minutes to figure out how to turn everything on, and by 4 am, we weren't in the mood to catch Leo.
The next day, we had breakfast at the Amagansett Farmer's Market (quaint and charming, very neighborhood-store-like), drove by Seinfeld's house a couple of times (we couldn't see past the gate), and went apple-picking.
I love apple-picking! My dad used to boast about it all the time and I'd look at photos of him and my mom atop apple trees and swear I'd go one day. The orchard that we went to had apples on low trees propped up by trellises. The best ones are the Ginger Gold and Honeycrisp varieties. And the best apples are the ones that drop into your hand when you tug on them gently.
We dropped the apples off at the house, and went shopping for shoes and lunch. Lunch was eaten leisurely by the pool. We had planned to catch the 5:30 trip, but wanted to go about in an unhurried pace. After all, it was supposed to be a getaway, and we weren't quite ready to get into the frantic pace of New York just yet. So we lingered for a bit and drove to Indian Wells beach.
Since most of the summer crowd had gone home, the beach was virtually empty. The clouds were threatening to give out. Most of the people who were there just came to look at the waves. They stayed in their cars and left after a few minutes. I wanted to feel the sand beneath my sneakers and the seaspray, so I walked alone towards the shore. The water was a murky color, and the waves grew taller by the minute. The shoreline disappeared in both directions in a foggy mist. For a moment, I just wanted to feel complete solitude. I felt the pull of the water. The waves, huge and frightening, felt welcoming. For a split second, I understood how some people could walk into the water, to their death, just like that. I felt like staying for a while, but I knew the others were waiting for me in the car and we had to catch the 7pm train.
Back in the house, we sat by the unlit fireplace and had margaritas and pondered how we almost cancelled the trip. The forecast said rain over the week-end, and so we hesitated, but went anyway because summer was ending, and it was a chance of a lifetime, and it was spontaneous, therefore exciting and a bit reckless. Well, fate smiles on hopeful week-enders as it never rained the whole time we were there, and by the time we got to New York, the rain had stopped.
{Koo Koo Koo, Moonpools and Caterpillars}
So last week-end's trip to Amagansett was a blast. I never even conceived of setting foot in the Hamptons, where the rich and famous "summer". But my cousin's friend worked for this guy who wasn't using his house (had not in fact been using it much this summer, and is planning to sell it for $5M) and so we hopped on the 8pm LIRR. We arrived in Amagansett at 11:30 pm, put our bags down and slid into our suits literally, and were in the spa by midnight. The warm, calming water melted away travel aches. The more daring ones of us (sis and I) attempted a dip in the supposedly heated pool, but it was just too cold and dinner was waiting.
After dinner we took a tour of the house. Built about 20-30 years ago, the house might be postmodern or art moderne, I'm not too sure about the difference. From the outside, it looks like a cube gone awry. In the living room, a huge sculpture which spins slowly when turned on, hangs from the ceiling. A glass panel looks out onto the pool and the backyard. There are six bedrooms tucked somewhere, a pool table, a room I stumbled into with a huge tub, and skylights everywhere.
We wanted to watch a movie in the cozy AV room with giant pillows and comfy blankets but it took us 30 minutes to figure out how to turn everything on, and by 4 am, we weren't in the mood to catch Leo.
The next day, we had breakfast at the Amagansett Farmer's Market (quaint and charming, very neighborhood-store-like), drove by Seinfeld's house a couple of times (we couldn't see past the gate), and went apple-picking.
I love apple-picking! My dad used to boast about it all the time and I'd look at photos of him and my mom atop apple trees and swear I'd go one day. The orchard that we went to had apples on low trees propped up by trellises. The best ones are the Ginger Gold and Honeycrisp varieties. And the best apples are the ones that drop into your hand when you tug on them gently.
We dropped the apples off at the house, and went shopping for shoes and lunch. Lunch was eaten leisurely by the pool. We had planned to catch the 5:30 trip, but wanted to go about in an unhurried pace. After all, it was supposed to be a getaway, and we weren't quite ready to get into the frantic pace of New York just yet. So we lingered for a bit and drove to Indian Wells beach.
Since most of the summer crowd had gone home, the beach was virtually empty. The clouds were threatening to give out. Most of the people who were there just came to look at the waves. They stayed in their cars and left after a few minutes. I wanted to feel the sand beneath my sneakers and the seaspray, so I walked alone towards the shore. The water was a murky color, and the waves grew taller by the minute. The shoreline disappeared in both directions in a foggy mist. For a moment, I just wanted to feel complete solitude. I felt the pull of the water. The waves, huge and frightening, felt welcoming. For a split second, I understood how some people could walk into the water, to their death, just like that. I felt like staying for a while, but I knew the others were waiting for me in the car and we had to catch the 7pm train.
Back in the house, we sat by the unlit fireplace and had margaritas and pondered how we almost cancelled the trip. The forecast said rain over the week-end, and so we hesitated, but went anyway because summer was ending, and it was a chance of a lifetime, and it was spontaneous, therefore exciting and a bit reckless. Well, fate smiles on hopeful week-enders as it never rained the whole time we were there, and by the time we got to New York, the rain had stopped.
{Koo Koo Koo, Moonpools and Caterpillars}
