New York City, New York, USA

Hayio NYC! I am 30 years old and before this journey I'd never been to NYC. Tragic, I know. Luckily I work in a company doing business in that area (more on that later), so I could take full advantage of this thing called an all-expenses covered business *cough* trip. So come December 2012, I flew to do some shopping *cough* business in New York.

Not Living Up To the Legend

John F. Kennedy International Airport, also known as JFK, is ass. Not only was the border control officer more interested in the Oreos he was stuffing in himself like it was indeed the end of the world (and made me miss the Latina babe disguised as a border control officer), but the queue to the line-up was long and windy enough to be the actual snake for six more Anaconda sequels. The world would be a better place without both.

Held Up On Arrival

The JFK taxi service is a conspiracy. With our ridiculously under-caffeinated eyes we strained to see the end of another snake-esque line of never-ending luggage and their owners waiting for a taxi.

What's worst, there wasn't even a Starbucks outside of the terminal to ease with our caffeine withdrawal. Not even a Starbucks. How could this be?

While the fastest kids in class had raced to get the regularly priced cabs, the slower specimens of the generation - our entourage - were left with the sharks of the cabpool. Don't get conned by these persuasive fellas, their asking price is over double that of the actual cabs. Black Cadillacs are nicer than yellow Priuses though.

Our cab shark spent half the trip talking on the phone about a phone which was hugely entertaining. What I most liked though, was his way of driving. It was a mixture of first taking the speed limit and letting the pussies on the road keep to it and then violating the remaining traffic regulations. It was awesome. I've encountered the same style of driving only by the tuk-tuk madmen in Bangkok.

New World, Old World, So Far Far Away, So Close By

First impressions are most important. If that is the case, to me NYC is forevermore Newcastle, UK. Not a positive connotation that. If you haven't been to the promised land of Geordies yet, go. Go and see, and wonder and get the hell out. Luckily, NYC made a second impression.

And the second impression was Bangkok, with all the clutter the billboards and the mess. Then NYC made a third impression.

And the third impression was the Orthodox Jewish neighborhood in Brooklyn. Then NYC made a fourth impression.

And the fourth impression was Manhattan. The very best of that impression was Bryant Park. A tiny thing, hidden in the middle of all the over-priced Manhattan abodes, Bryant Park in Christmas time is homier than the homiest of hipster-homey-cafes in Williamsburg. I loved it. I'd go gay for it. The steaming tomato-parmesan soup - divine. The tiny ice skating ring - so cute! The boutique market - there could be no better place for X-mas shopping. For that one brief moment shooing away pigeons, Manhattan transformed and rolled out as a Central European café - the type hipsters would love to visit in Europe, but won't because it would be too mainstream.

Which Brings Us to Williamsburg

Die hipster scum, die! Putain!

Pardon my French. To all the hipster readers of this blog, suck it. To all the people with actual friends, good for you.

For all the majority of the imaginary overly underlined loathing of hipsters, I'm well on my way of becoming one: sprung a man from jail, commandeered a ship of the fleet, sailed with a buccaneer crew out of Tortuga - wait whaaaaat?! Let's get back on track: I got mistaken, not once, not twice, but three times as a Jewish (why Jewish - never found out) hipster from Williamsburg. International Man of Mysterious Hipsterness much?

Yet, even apart from the supposed bleak outlook, I became overly fond of Williamsburg. Brooklyn Moto, a small custom motorcycle shop, on North 10th is amazing (and not the least bit hipstery), the Blue Bottle coffee shop on Berry (a little hipstery) serves fantastic coffee and the selection of restaurants and bars in Williamsburg is no less than outstanding, as are the dishes and drinks served.

MILF Manhattan, Our Late Night Booty Call

If you're a first timer in NYC and want to get an introduction to the city, go on the Sex and the City bus tour. (This was the business *cough* part of the trip.) Yes, all of you guys too. Grow some hair on those nuts, hop on the bus full of giggling ladies, compliment the bland cupcake and drink that Scotch down at Onieal's in Little Italy. And when you get off the bus, you might be getting off later too.

The tour works as a wonderful introduction to Manhattan, covering all the sights and all the seeings. But if you're the I'll-do-everything-on-my-own-and-miss-out-on-lots-of-cool-crap type of traveler, then you can f-u-c-k off.

Let me go on official record for now and evermore and reiterate all the others in saying that Manhattan is cool. The skyscrapers, the shopping, the restaurants, the steam rising from the manhole covers, the mole people singing in the subway tunnels (BTW, the subway system is super easy to navigate), Spider-Man crawling on the walls. The stuff you see in films and TV is actually there, making you feel like you know the place. Which is a nice feeling.

Bring It on MacGyver

In NYC, a mere street can separate two distinctly wonderful worlds. Separate though they may be, they are firmly joined together with the duct tape that is New York. And who does not love duct tape?

All credit for the pictures goes to my friend Miia.