Leaving New York

On Wednesday 28th, the ice storm that's been ice storming across the US arrived in New York. I look out of Pippa's window in the morning and can see thick icy snow on the ground. It's nice and warm in Pippa's flat, although I've been sleeping in a hat which Pippa says makes me look like a smurf. It's early before Pippa goes to work and we go to get some breakfast at Le Pain Quotidien a the bottom of her road. Pippa's dressed up like a Russian James Bond lady in a furry hat and long distingished coat and looks the part. I'm sloshing about in my trainers and hoodie so we look like a funny pair. A distinished lady taking a delinquent for breakfast. Actually that's not far from the truth. At breakast I ask Pippa, 'how is London different to New York'. I have Oliver James' Affluenza i my mind, a sociological observation type book, which opens in New York, fingering it as the centre of the 'selfish capitalist' world and sick modern western society, and I want to hear her thoughts. Pippa says that things are easier here than in London, less hassle, people are eager to do things and are very keen to introduce you to peple they know and to tell you about new places to go, new things to try and see and discover. There is less of the dragging feeling when getting abut it London to go to places, it's more sociable and manageable consequently. I ask abut the work ethic. It's very fast paced she says. Nothing surprising, but I'm interested to hear it from someone living here.

The cold, icy, sloshy weather does not make feel like doing much so I go back to Pippa's and watch Bonfire of the Vanities (to get into a 'new york state of mind' as Alan Partridge once quoted). After this I go for a wander round the local neighbourhoods. It's funny in NYC they go acronym crazy with their neighborhoods - We start with SoHo (South of Houston), then there's NoLiTa (North of Lttle Italy) and TriBeCa (the Triangle below Canal). My favourite is still DUMBO (Down Under the Manhatan Bridge Overpass). Nuts. On my walk I notice no fewer than 4 different dogs wearing shoes. I buy some things in Duane Rede (the US equivalent of Boots- great name). So far the pharmacies/drugstores I've been to here seem half medicines and half sweets and chocs which sems like a helpful vicious circle for the pharmaceutical industry here. I have some trouble comunicating again. Problem words being 'vitamins', 'water' and 'cards; somehow my English ego can't bring myself to pronounce the american vowel sounds and say 'vaitamins' etc.. so I am left trying to explain badly what a vitamin is. On this point, it's crazy the amount of adverts between progammes here that are for medications and their endless disclaimers- antidepressant topups, lawyers wanting to fight for you to get you compensationif are using acontraceptive 'ring' that culd be killing you. All very dramtic. It's enough to bring out the hypochondriac in you. Maybe I do need that cough medicine- it does wonders for mucus don't you know?

In the evening, Tom Pippa n me go out to a great diner under the Williamsburg Bridge on the Brooklyn side. More amzing food. Roasted brussels sprouts- none of the farty OAP fare you get in the UK- great cheeseburgers and some pasta with herbs and something called radicchio. Anyone know what this is? They have lots of funny ingredients which sound a bit poncy here- Arugula (Rocket?) and Farro (Spelt) being other common ones. The diner is super chilled and low lit, wih Morrissey playing in the background- "If there's something you'd like to try'. We sample the cocktails which are served in old school small glasses so they make men feel ok drinking them. The waitress is another tartan shirt and skinny jeans cool type. Not unfriendly or friendly, just kind of cool and knows a lot about the food. It's cosy being here in this little haven which is about the size of a train carriage with the cold outside under the massive unwieldy structure of the bridge. A relaxed alcohol soothed feeling kicks in and I feel content .

Contentness which is broken at 4 the next morning by the shuttle bus coming to pick me up which in the end doesnt hapen for another hour and a half, having woken both Tom and Pippa up several times as the driver claims he has no booking for me. There's nothing like the stress of early morning airport travel. Does wonders for the cortisol. The van eventually arrives and picks me up. The driver's an ase and the music's blaring out at 5.30 in the van with its silent passengers. I shout at him from the back f the van to turn it down. I'm the last one to be dropped off at JFK. This behemoth airport has 7 or 8 terminals and I can't remember which one I'm at so I plump for T7 which turns out t be wrong. 'I just want to check I'm at the right terminal' i say to thedriver as we arrive. 'No. it makes no difference. I'm going' he says and speeds off with me fishing about in my rucksack for the bit of paper which will confirm I'm at the wrong place.

An $8 taxi ride later to the correct terminal and I'm checked in and cold at 6.30 in the airport. There's an item about 'Poison peanut butter' circulating in the US at the moment on the news. The terminal is almost exclusively south and central american flights-, TAM, TACA, Carribean Airways, Avianca. I check out my fellow passengers as we queue to board the TACA airways flight- A peroxide blonde with a fat husband, quite a few very old people, a few families with young kids. In the queue there's a young boy behind me being sick onto the floor and a bit into a little bag. No one seems to notice. I realise that none of the American officials have taken my visa exit slip when I'm onboard which wil make for an interesting time getting back into the US.

The flight (also referred to at the chicken bus) is pretty much as far away from the spoiling BA flight out to NY. I'm squished up on the small plane and there's only one thing in a bag to open. We wiat for about half an hour to take off. 5 hours in the sky in a tin can. About 4 of which were extremely turbulent. The scariest flight I've ever been on. I definitely thought death was on the cards as we swerved up and down and side to side simutaneously. I kept my eyes shut rather than lok at the shaking plane. Exhausting. i tried to distract myself with the entertainment- The sensitively chosen film- 'Kingdom of Heaven' showing on a screen about 20 rows in front of me or the music channel playing 'dum-di-dah-you're-all-going-to-die!' epic classical music. None of the Brit adherance to rules on the plane rubbish either!! everyone ignoring the 'fasten seatbelt' signs constantly walking up and down the aisle and the 2 people either side of me using their mobiles- 'is that ok to use?' i asked the Chilean boy next to me worriedly- 'yeah it's fine- i haven't got any signal at the moment'. I tried to remember the calming things Emsy, Ian and a man on my iPod called John Kabat Zin said about not worrying about such situations and I managed to enter another dimension of detachment in my head and get a bit calm. Finally after the longest 5 hours, with scant pilot patter (only things like before the turbluence- 'We have turbulence reported between 32 and 34,00 feet. Relax! Thankyou'), we started to descend and i could see volcanoes and the land below which looked very dry. I have resolved to swim home, probably best as the States may not let me back in. I'm off for a blog break now. Back later. Hope you are all well. thanks for all the coments. great to hear your news guys and ladies. I'll be back to the coments in the next post xxx

New York

Finally I am over the pond. (Not 'over it', I've only just got here) Extrication from London after 8 years. A close thing, given that I nearly missed the plane. Fear of missing the plane superseded my fear of flying which was a pleasant change. The BA flight was a bit fun and a little bit glamorous in my mind. There was hardly anyone on it. Bad for global warming but a bit nice in a pathetically human give me lots of space way. Everyone got up to take advantage of this seating boon but were told to sit down in their original seats again 'because of the Trim'- Ian can you explain? They give you lots of exciting things in bags to open on the plane. This occupied me for 7.5 hours pretty much along with filling out the various serious documents to gain admittance to the U.S and eating all the free food, and thinking about my friends and family. It was all very exciting on the final approach in, you could see on the little map the Hudson River where the US airways plane crashed, and the skyline as we came into JFK which was all twinkly. And then we were there like magic - flying and seeing the plane's progress over the Atlantic and Canada on the little map- and then ending up miles away from London a few hours later. Somewhere a lot lot colder too. I caught a shared minibus to Pippy and Tom's apartment in Greenwich Village next to the Meatpacking District, squashed up and trying not to inflict my cold on the others in the bus (although i regretted this altruism later on as some of them were quite rude to the nice driver). i chatted to an English girl studying some history of art Masters upstate, possibly confirming stereotypes, and who went on to be an arse to the driver. An hour's drive in to 'The Village' where Pippa's living, along highways with billboards advertising the usual, along with American touches- 'Need an MRI? Call 1-800 NEED MRI'. The driver assured me that 'The Village People dress differently, they walk differently'. I shall be examining Pippa and Tom for YMCA-themed influences. It was great to finally get there and see Pippa and Tom- A lovely dinner later at an Italian place in a place called the Bowery Hotel, which was a lush spelt salad, pizzas and wine served by a louche (not lush) waiter and we all hit the sack.

On Sunday we got up and went round to another lovely eatery called Morandi for brunch. Amazing eggs. Lots of sex and the city groups of gals around the tables. Another wander and I dragged PnT into Magnolia Bakery. Cupcake, colourful icing and hot bevvy heaven. and I'm starting to see how you could easily get lardy here. Due to the dire exchange rate at the mo, and with taxes and tips added, food is all pretty expensive. Everything is expensive and I'm glad I'm not here for more than a few days from this pov, otherwise I'd be sadly drooling outside these great food places. Tom and Pippa both have cool hats- I bought an Obama hat from a roadside stall. Not cool. We went to see Slumdog Millionaire in the avo which was fun. What did those who've seen it think? It was no Blood Diamond that's for sure. Slumdog was followed by Mamma Mia at Pippa's. Amazing. We had our own singalong and I learnt what Pippa's favourite songs were. Fun happy times.

Monday i took the subway (less hectic than London people say) up to Central Park North- after having some difficulty buying a metrocard for the subway- asking 3 times in one newsagent to be presented with a book of matches. The chances of me raking in free cupcakes from my cute English accent are clearly non existent. Central Park is pretty cool, -different to how I imagined it as an American Hyde Park- it was cold, icy, snowy and wild in parts like the North Woods. And massive. I must have spent about 4 hours wandering around the park, 5th Avenue and around before I realised that my red gloveless hands were about to drop off and it was time to go home, via Hot & Crusty for a coffee. Great name huh? I felt the being by yourself away thing at that time as I was fairly mute between the hours of 9 and 7. I met Pippa at her work in SoHo and we walked to yet another lush eatery called Westville where we waited patiently for a table which was a good thing given the delicious mac n cheese with bacon, soy glazed green beans and franks with peas and bacon. So so good.

Today's been a chilled day. More walking about. Some special boiled eggs sadly without Emsy at Le Pain Quotidien. Later I went past a guy with a kid on his shoulders and saw lots of paps snapping away. I asked a girl who it was and she said Hugh Jackman. He's an actor right? I don't know what he's been in but the camera men seemed quite excited. I managed to walk past him again later. Maybe he wanted to hear my cute English accent? It still feels a bit surreal here, a bit like being in a movie with all the sights and old school americanness, I have to keep reminding myself I'm here, somewhere I am excited to have made it to. The cost of things is tough though, not the best time to be away clearly, and things like the lack of free healthcare make you very appreciative of the NHS. It's so expensive without insurance here. Quite scary for lots of people and you think about how hard it must be for lots of people to be here. Tomorrow's my last day here so more exploring's on the cards. Bye bye from my first largely food themed blog post. Send me your news please xxx