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Not that I'm into horoscopes, but the message for an Aquarius today was too pointed to ignore: 'Something small has been itching at you for quite a while and it's vital that you sit down and sort it out right away.' Ok, I get the hint, I've abandoned my blog....I'm going to scratch that itch.
Reasons for my resounding blog silence will all be revealed in due course, and for those of you who wish to hear the end of the fairytale, you'll be required to pledge loyalty to my tappings and virtual scribbles and to read on for at least another couple of entries, for this entry shall be dedicated in all its glory to The Big Apple. One crunchy mouthful at a time.
Dedicated readers may have noticed the chastising and long-distance hand slap I received from Pater Pinchbeck following my previous post, which stated that I was 'off to New York for the first time in my 26 years'. Apparently I lied: " Incorrect. You were first in New York aged just less than 2, where you learned in 0.0003 nanoseconds that the word for biscuit was "cookie" (in Bloomingdales, I reckon). You put your first sentence together very shortly afterwards (I think it was probably something like: "me want cookie please"; plus ca change.....)"
I can't think what he's referring to the cheeky so-n-so. I had, of course, heard this story on many an occasion, when my parents were chuckling to themselves/fellow parents/anyone who would listen about the fact that it was at this point that they knew I would be go on to be a linguist, or that, at the very least, I would never go hungry on future travel adventures. They were right - as dad pointed out, my priorities have not altered one bit in 26 years (never let me be accused of inconsistency), and I have indeed hopped from country to country rapidly learning the local lingo for any new and hitherto undiscovered delicacy.
What I did not realise in the oft-repeated Pinchbeck legend was that it referred to New York. And so, I shall rejig my statement somewhat - that it was for the first time in my adult life, I was headed for New York. I landed straight onto a musical stage set, and thus spent my entire visit as a New York tourist singing/humming different choruses as I lost myself amongst the mesh of obligingly numbered streets. I lost myself, underestimated how long 'blocks' are, and walked miles. Miles and miles and miles. But it was truly glorious.
I highly recommend arriving into the city by car, the city view pans out spectacularly. The leafy trees of Connecticut faded, replaced almost instantly by scraping tower blocks, with spidery firecases climbing up the outside of each. I arrived onto my dear friend Marie's doorstep to be overwhelmed by its very 'New Yorkness'. A motley crew of real New Yoikers lounged around on the 'stoop' (the rather grand looking front steps), smoking, joking and cackling out raucous greetings to us. At any moment I expected them to swing from the staircases and gather up dustbin lids to sing me a welcome ditty. I confess I was slightly disappointed when they didn't. Still, lack of welcoming song aside, these guys were my firm friends by the end of the visit, and I observed with amusement from Marie's fifth floor apartment as they set about their unofficial but highly effective role as neighbourhood watch. Noone would dare enter the building under this elaborate security check.
I had mistakenly expected that New York would be more like London than it is, and was therefore rather blasé about it. I realise now that this was rather naïve. It is, yes, a city. And there, it seems, the similarities end. Being thrown straight into this heaving multicultural mix was rather a shock after the peace and quiet of Connecticut. But it jolted me out of my country mousiness, and inspiration bloomed. I wandered round, sucking up the sights, smells and sounds, in the happy daze of an amateur anthropologist.
My first evening was spent in a sushi restaurant, where we ate a neverending stream of sushi more outrageous and exciting than any I had tasted in Japan: yellowtail with jalapeno, toro roe with pickle, salmon with a garlicky tomato compote. A real taste treat.
Three days of pottering ensued as I tried and failed to make sense of the creaking, groaning, old school subway system, which spat me out like a sewer rat, blinking in the bright glare of Time Square lights. I absorbed the criss cross flood of pedestrians which flowed afresh at every white twitch of the stop-go light, images of relevant film scenes clamouring for attention in my head. Cloying salt dough smells filled my nostrils as I passed pretzel stands, and I watched businessmen pop out of their buildings for their hot dog fix - ketchup and mustard-smothered onions slipping onto the paper a visual jar against neatly ironed suits. The city was a novel riot of odours and colour flashes, jam-packed full of characters, with the stereotypical types and the self-consciously innovative and different 'ooh we're livin' on the edges' types spinning round and stewing together in this cultural melting pot. I could have spent all day watching the world go by from a coffee shop window (and, in fact, largely did).
But, I roused myself from a people-watching daze to head down 5th Avenue, thanking my lucky stars that I didn't have the money to gather the amount of bags some shoppers were apparently able to acquire; that I have already gawped at the half naked male assistants in an Abercrombie & Fitch clothes store in London, and really didn't feel the need to queue halfway round the block for the pleasure of them again in New York (or be overpowered by the stench of A&F cologne that can be smelt, I exaggerate not, six blocks downwind). Instead I walked past the shoppers and down to where Central Park began, stopping for street performers, artists, dancers and slowly winding my way into this higgldy piggldy labyrinth of huge greenness smack bang in the centre of the city.I was thrilled by it, and again sat down and breathed it all in - a troupe of gaily singing students passed me by, revelling in their fresh-faced cliche, business men took off their socks and stretched out their toes in the sunshine. I've never known a city park to have so many different personalities - a zoo, a sports area, a children's play area, a fairground, a hippy-like yeah-peace-man-let's-all-throw-flower-petals sunlit glade, an adventure trail full of botanical amazements, and a vast lake riddled with rowing boats all knocking together in good natured confusion. This was the park to top all parks, and has officially risen to number one of my global list of 'top notch green city spaces' beating Kyoto, London and Barcelona.
The Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) also got a look in, and I drew inspiration from the paintings, architectural plans, scribbles and illustrations that filled the six floors, and kept me captivated for a happy two hours.
It was an inspiring and fun-filled few days of exploration, packed with input from the huge array of friendly New Yorkers I met on my rounds, a veritable museum exhibition of caricatures: gravelly voiced Kathy who sits smoking her 400th cigarette of the day at the bottom of the apartment block and winks knowingly at us as we trot off into town in our high heels; Jim the singing Chinaman who calls Marie and I the 'beautiful British girls' and seranades us at 11pm as we buy our litre bottles of water; the winking, smiling doormen who line the different entrance porches of the avenue apartments.
I romanticise, but indulge me. New York, this may have been the first time (in my adult life), but it most definitely will not be my last.
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