I took my good friend Steve to The Cloisters this past August, not having visited the museum for quite a while. The funny thing is: I used to live right below this wonderful museum when I first lived in New York, now twenty-five years ago. I would go there at least twice a month, sitting in the inner court yard in the Winter, which was closed off to the elements with plexiglas panels, the orange trees from the garden in full bloom, filling the space with fragrance.
It is like no other place in Manhattan. While there, you feel yourself transported to another time. Not to be missed.