Getting Back To Where I Once Belonged

Like fabulous bookends, Easter and ANZAC Day gave me an extra long weekend in Chicago - a wonderful chance to revisit my old sweet home and catch up with good friends.

I was up early on Friday and at JFK airport just as the cafes were warming up their coffee machines. Delta Airlines still didn't have its shit together though, and so I was delayed for about an hour for reasons altogether unclear. Why can't people teach airport staff how to speak properly into a microphone? A little diction is all I ask, really. But my fear of being tackled by the Air Marshall kept me quiet and after a late but uneventful flight I somehow made it to Chicago O'Hare, hitting the tarmac in pelting rain. Tremendous. Fortunately the Blue Line train to the city starts right inside the airport terminal, so I didn't get rained on until I got Downtown and was walking to my hotel. It's a horrible feeling when the bottom two inches of your denim jeans are soaking wet. Worse still when you realise that you don't have a dry pair to put on instead.

Collecting myself at my hotel, I called LH and arranged to meet up with her for lunch next door to her office. Poor Americans and their lack of public holidays. Lack of annual leave in general really. But it was great that she could at least abscond for an hour or so and honestly our food court lunch was really good. Then again, I've never met a burrito I didn't like.

Later that afternoon, I paid a small fortune to have my eyebrows torn out with hot wax at the Nordstrom Spa, and praised all the deities I knew that the lady didn't send me blind when she dyed my eyelashes a gorgeous shade of blue-black. By this time I was wearing a new pair of (dry) denim jeans - not boot cut ones unfortunately, these ones are straight-legged. Admittedly I was - and remain - a bit concerned that someone with my lower body shape should probably steer clear from straight-legged jeans but they were the only ones on the shelf in my size, so what was I going to do? Desperate times, desperate measures and all that.

I took my new eyelashes and absent eyebrows into Sephora and flattered the makeup man into slapping some products onto my face in time for my dinner engagement with LH and the boys. Visiting LH's new studio apartment for a quick cuddle with her puppy Preston, we drove down to my old neighbourhood for dinner at Mia Francesca. I had a sausage pasta and only remembered later about it being Good Friday. The pasta was good, but the guilt was still there. Two glasses of wine helped ease it, but not eliminate it. Then the boys applied the pressure to visit Sidetracks and enjoy a couple of slushies ("you only need two - the first one, and the last one," they said). So of course I went. And in typical fashion, LH and I were the only girls in the place but we were totally in our element. The music was fun, the slushies were delicious and we got right into the Easter fundraiser and L&D won so many raffle prizes it was quite ridiculous towards the end. A little before midnight and before the slushies could catapult me into oblivion, I took my leave and LH & B drove me back Downtown to my hotel. One episode of "Criminal Minds" and I was ready for bed.

The next morning I was up early and visited the good people at the adjacent Lavazza coffee shop for a large and very strong latte, and a breakfast sandwich. Watching the clock rather carefully I took a taxi to Union Station and bought my Metra train ticket to get out to Naperville, a beautiful suburb about an hour west of Chicago.

I was heading out to the burbs because my old friend Bork was getting married at the Cress Creek Country Club, not far from her childhood home. In the four years that I lived in Chi-town I never visited Naperville and I now know that was a big oversight. The train trip itself was a beautiful journey through some really lovely storybook towns and a very easy commute from Chicago. Bork had secured a block of hotel rooms at the nearby Courtyard Marriott and so I settled in early, watched an in-room movie ("The Rite") and took a nana nap.

At 5.15pm, I took the hotel shuttle bus to the Country Club for the wedding. It's really hard going to a wedding on your own, even if you know there' s a chance you're going to know people there. The other travellers on the shuttle bus were all gorgeous and skinny young things, dressed impeccably in the latest fashions. All of a sudden the control-top pantyhose and grandma heels that had seemed so practical when I packed now seemed a bit silly. I tried to make small talk on the shuttle, telling people how I fit in to the guest list but it was obvious that as the much older and only single one on the bus, I did not really fit it all.

The wedding ceremony was absolutely beautiful. Bork and her groom looked gorgeous and the setting for the ceremony out on the country club verandah made maximum use of the amenities and the lovely late-afternoon sunshine. What a difference 24 hours makes to the weather! Bork could not have asked for a more beautiful day for her wedding.

The reception was a lot of fun - delicious food, great company and free-flowing drinks. I had a couple of glasses of wine with dinner but then restricted myself to cranberry juice & soda, a new favourite. Sensible shoes called for sensible drinks. Before I knew it, the shuttle bus had returned to take me back to the hotel. I got a chance to say my goodbyes to the bride & groom, and the bride's family who were very kind to welcome me to the party. By the time I got back to the hotel, I didn't have any strength to watch even a single episode of "Criminal Minds". I just dove into my pyjamas and under the feathery quilt for a stone-dead sleep.

Easter Sunday morning was another early start, mindful as I was of the Metra train times for the day. I needed to be back in Chicago for Easter lunch at noon with Courts & CS. By sheer brilliance, I got coffee and a taxi in plenty of time to be at Naperville train station for the 10.30am train back to the city. Complete with Cubs fans already tucking into barely-concealed cans of beer. Yikes.

Courts picked me up at the train station and we headed back to her house a delicious home-made lunch of lamb & leeks, roast potatoes and a very yummy faro & barley salad. Dessert was a very sweet but creamy Indian-inspired pistachio & almond ice cream with rose syrup on top. Accompanied by a glass of very cold Tokaji and I was in heaven. Delicious!

Like all good things, the visit with Courts & CS came to end quickly and before I knew it, we were back on the road and bound for O'Hare. For the most part the journey was very slow going but we ultimately made it there. Checking in, I was not at all surprised to learn that my Delta flight was again delayed so I settled in to read my new book (that I cannot put down). Time passed quickly and I was back on the plane and landing at La Guardia in no time. In pelting rain. Tremendous.

Fortunately it didn't really matter that the bottom two inches of my jeans got drenched because I knew that at home, I had a fabulous - and dry - pair of pyjama pants just waiting to be put on. There is something so comforting about sleeping in your own bed again, even after just a short trip away. Today is my Easter Monday/ANZAC Day public holiday and I have absolutely no plans to be anywhere, other than a work event later tonight. So I have taken the day slowly, enjoying a sleep-in and multiple cups of Nespresso, ignoring all the piles of laundry that I am expertly stepping over. Blissful, don't you think?

But you don't need a bipopsy

You know in the cartoons when Popeye eats his tins of spinach and all of a sudden his muscles grow big and he gets all that energy? Obviously we're all supposed to recognise the uplifting benefits of putting vitamins into our system.

Well when I put vitamins into my system, I seem to have more of a wimpy reaction. Ha, perhaps I really should switch to hamburgers!

But seriously. When I lived in Scotland, I got sucked into the vitamins aisle at Boots and I bought a pack of those pills that were supposed to make your hair and nails grow long and strong. Instead of enviable locks and talons, I end up with a raging case of pink eye.

Then later on in Chicago I had a horribly persistent viral infection that presented in a delightful and unpredictable all-over rash. Cue the appointments with the allergist and the prescription steroids that not only made me retain water like a camel, but I ended up with a severe Vitamin D deficiency. GP spooked me with warnings about brittle bones and non-existent immune system, and he prescribed Vitamin D pills that I have been on ever since.

And this week, suspecting that I might not be getting enough citrus in my diet, I decide it's a good idea to start taking Vitamin C pill. Nothing like fending off scurvy, right? It was just an idea, nothing to be concerned about. So I tok care not to exceed the daily recommended dosage, and I was pleased to have no discernable reaction to the tablets. Well that was until Sunday, when I woke up with a disgusting blemish on my cheek. And it's the type of blemish borne of vitamin overdose, and not the sort borne of pretzel and chocolate overdose. Ugh, Wicked Witch of the West, eat your heart out. Needless to say I have shelved the vitamins (in pill form, anyway) and have upped my dosage of water and pimple cream.

Did you ever see the episode where Popeye had these biological iss-ues? Nope, me neither!

Voulez-vous manger une salade, ce soir?

It's actually quite hard to sit quietly and listen politely to someone tell you stories about their life in Paris and their cooking school and vineyard in Provence. It's harder still when you realise that you actually paid to put yourself through such torture. And yet this is the very position in which I found myself tonight at the French Institute Alliance Francaise (FIAF) and the first in its "Art De Vivre: Garden for Gourmets" lecture series.

Tonight's event was ably hosted by the lovely Ina Garten (the very Barefoot Contessa that I basically stalked in the Hamptons a couple of years ago). I was sitting in the very back row by the Nespresso machines - hooray for corporate sponsorship! - so I couldn't really see Ina, but it wasn't too bad cause I could still hear everything. And then Ina introduced her good friend and fellow gourmande Patricia Wells, who was on hand to launch her new cookbook, Salad As A Meal.

Both Garten and Wells are good friends, and their banter clearly reflected that. But it's really hard to feel any sort of camaraderie when one guest speaker has fabulous houses in East Hampton and the other has a cooking school in Paris and a house and vineyard in Provence (for whose Cote du Rhone Robert Parker recently awarded 90 points). Ugh - hearing stuff like that really makes you feel like you haven't achieved anything in your life at all.

Then of course the ladies talked about what inspired them in terms of cooking, and how important it is to to have a really good time when you're in the kitchen. Just when I thought that Garten and Wells were miles from my reality, they talk about recipes that are "exotic yet do-able for everyone". Even I had to laugh when Patricia talked about buying Julia Child's old stove from her in Provence, quipping that "owning Julia's stove would be like owning Freud's couch".

Both ladies agreed that the kitchen essentials one must own include a good knife; a food processor; a good sheet pan; pasta pot; and a mandolin. Though when using the latter, Wells recommends you need to chant "I am slicing, I am slicing" so you can be sure to concentrate fully and not cut your fingers off. Good tip!

At the end of the chit-chat the moderator opened up to Q&A and other people asked dumb questions about a bunch of stupid stuff. Then Wells demonstrated two recipes from her book (which I couldn't see and none of us got to taste) and then she did a book signing. I didn't hang around for that part, nor did I even buy the book.

Primarily I went to tonight's lecture out of loyalty to Ina Garten as well as a curious interest in Patricia Wells after K's ex-room mate in Paris reviewed the book on her website. I don't doubt the book is excellent and I do love all manner of cookbook (let's face it), but I wasn't quite prepared to shell out $38 just yet. Maybe another time? I'm a sucker for these sorts of lectures anyway - I'm even signed up to go to one in June featuring the lovely Eli Zabar, whose deli on West 79th I absolutely love. Can't wait.

Bright Lights, Big Stars

Sometimes I forget that celebrities are real people too. It may sound dumb to say that, but when your only exposure to famous people is in magazines or movies, I think it's easy to forget that they actually exist in the real world.

So it's really nice to go to the theatre here and see - really see - famous people headlining some excellent shows.

Earlier this week I was fortunate to see "Good People" at the Samuel J. Friedman Theatre, starring Frances McDormand, Tate Donavan and even the old lady who played Roseanne's mother in "Roseanne" (her name is Estelle Parsons, for those of you playing along at home). The performances were so strong and I thought it was a really impressive show. I was so excited to see Frances McDormand but her character was ultimately so unlikable that I found myself forgetting about her being famous, but remembering about her being a fantastic actor. Naturally I was really sucked in to the show - so much so that when it ended really abruptly, I remember being quite disappointed because I wanted to know what happened next.

Today I managed to snag a discount ticket (four rows from the front no less!) to Ben Stiller's new production of "The House of Blue Leaves" around the corner from Times Square, at The Walter Kerr Theatre. The show is still in previews but I really wanted to see it, not just because of Ben but also because the play boasts a fantastic supporting cast including Edie Falco, Jennifer Jason Leigh and Allison Pill. Again, all the performances were excellent but honestly the story is a bit weird and somewhere along the way the plot gets quite ridiculous. Still, I have to tell you that Edie Falco has deserved every one of her awards; she is so talented and I think she really steals so many of her scenes. And PS, Ben Stiller is TOTALLY cute in real life.

To my mind there is something really great about suspending reality for a couple of hours to sit in the dark and invite amazing actors to tell you a fantastic story. Being able to do all that in the shadow of the fabulous Times Square is just the icing on the cake.

Culture and Conscience

Sometimes even I am surprised at just how nerdy I can be. I'm back to cooking on weekends so I can freeze the results in little Tupperware containers and take it to work for my lunch every day. Sure, it's a cost-saving initiative (which is sort-of working), but I really do find that the cooking process relaxes me. The eating part is also pretty fun. Last weekend's cooking effort included potato & leek soup and a pasta sauce that I wasn't too happy with but is so chock-full of vegetables I have to persevere with it.

There are some times though when it's nice to have someone else do the cooking for a change. So it was great to head out last Friday night to Wild Edibles, a wonderful pocket-sized restaurant not far from my apartment that doesn't take reservations - but does take an ethical stance on the sustainability of local fish populations. Their paper placemats profile a particular species available in the restaurant (that is also a seafood market), so you know a bit more about where the food comes from and how widely available it is - or, in some cases, isn't. I remember when I was in Chicago and The Shedd Aquarium produced these terrific wallet-sized cheat sheets about sustainable seafood, so you could make sensible, responsible choices at the supermarket or restaurant. I love that the wallet cards are still available for download on the Shedd's website too - good for the environment, and good for your conscience!

After dinner, we retired to a literal hole-in-the-wall pub down the street where P introduced me to the mixological taste sensation that is Jameson and ginger ale. I've never been a whiskey drinker, or at least not a good one, but that combination is really tasty. It was so good in fact that we had three of them...each. I didn't realise what a dodgy idea that was until the next morning, but it was a lesson well learned.

Tuesday at work had been chugging along like any other, and then Skilla at the office asked me if I'd like to go to the theatre with her. I've known Skilla for a while now and she's from my home town. We share a love of the theatre - the good, the bad and even the ugly. So I trust her judgment and I was really excited to go along with her. After work we walked together to Times Square and then caught the subway to the Lucille Lortel Theatre in the West Village to see the MCC Theatre's production of The Other Place. Starring Laurie Metcalf (Aunt Jackie from TV's Roseanne and also a proud Steppenwolf alum), the play was a fantastic study into the destructive potential of dementia. When the play was over, Skilla and I stayed on for a discussion with the playwright, some dude from the theatre company, and a neurologist who had been brought in to validate some of the scientific content of the play. When we left the theatre, Skilla and I had a great chat about what we each thought the play was about, and our overall reactions to it. We had been sitting side-by-side in the same theatre, watching the same production, and yet we came away with such different ideas and questions. I guess that's the beauty of the theatre and probably the thing I love the most about it. I am also very fortunate that this city gives me almost never-ending opportunities to see such interesting and different plays all over the place; on Broadway, off Broadway and then off-off Broadway.

I roamed the streets this morning to get some fresh air and generally to run errands. I dropped in to the drycleaners across the street where the owners, a mother and daughter team, were screaming at each other in Korean (I think). They didn't even care that I'd come in - they just kept yelling. It was pretty amazing. Leaving my clothes with them, I silently hoped that they would keep their animosity focussed on each other and not take it out on my work stuff. Fingers crossed. Then I moved on to the fantastic 24-hour hardware store not far from K's old apartment, where the guy took pity on clueless old me and helped me find the new lightglobes that I needed to bring my Hollywood bathroom mirror back to life. Thanks, man.

With the exception of the unseasonal snow that we had on Monday, the weather here has been steadily improving and I think that with it, people are starting to come back to life and cheer up a bit. I know that's certainly been the case with me and I am looking forward to enjoying the rest of this sunny weekend even if I am going back to my nerdy, homemade lunch-toting self at work next week.

Everyone Loves a Happy Ending

Hairdresser 2
Originally uploaded by dutch_merlijn.

I was out getting coffee the other day and walked past a hairdressing salon not too far from my office. I'd been thinking about having my hair done for a couple of days, so the find seemed quite timely. The clincher though was the fact that the salon I found is an Aveda concept salon. I absolutely adore Aveda products so I was sold on it.

Heading over for my appointment last night, I was really looking forward to the glamorous, fragrant, relaxing Aveda-style pampering that I remember from my exposure to other salons in Chicago and Adelaide. I was introduced to my stylist, a Russian expat who exuded "fabulous" out of every pore. I was also introduced to a giant fellow who would be my pre-Russian pamperer.

Maybe it was my fear of giants and/or Russians bearing scissors, but I relented on my usual no-touch policy and I consented to an Aveda scalp massage before my haircut. Over comes Giant, cracking his knuckles and bearing a grin that I took to be raw sadism but was probably just concentration. He drizzled some fragrant oil onto the crown of my head and then got started on the most amazing cranial manipulation I have had in a looong time. Oh Aveda, how I have missed you.

Giant Man kneaded the nape of my neck, massaged my temples and worked his magic on my knotted shoulders. Every single follicle of hair was responding - I was feeling relaxed and energised at the same time, it was really weird.

Then Giant took me over to the sinks for the pre-cut hair wash. As the water ran over my head, my hair felt like it was fizzing. A really strange sensation. Shampoo. Rinse. Conditioner. Rinse - but with cold water. OMG it was like heaven. Happy Hair, Happy Gab.

Russian dude was classic - a man of few words but someone who certainly knows how to use a pair of scissors. He prides himself on being the best short-hair stylist in the salon. I think he might have conducted that poll himself, but who am I to doubt him?

As if my sensory Aveda appointment experience to this point wasn't memorable enough, Russian dude then turned his attention to cutting the back of my hair. As he cut and cut, he leaned forward and gently blew the hair strands off my neck.

What?!

Yes, friends. Rather than brushing the cut hairs away with his fingers (as he had done up until then), he again leaned forward and - ever so gently - blew the cut hairs off the back of my neck. I was sitting at the front of the salon - right by the register! People could see! This is not part of the usual Aveda treatment, and it was so amusing I didn't know what to say. So I just shut up and blushed furiously. Hopeless.

After my do was done (and I honestly feel he did a great job), Russian dude slipped me his business card and said he hoped to see me soon.

On the way out the door, I made a comment about the Aveda soy candles they were selling.

"Oh they're really good," says the Russian. "We keep ours in the toilet". Interesting sales pitch, man. So of course I bought one. And guess where I keep mine? Uh-huh, you guessed it.

The Walking Wounded

Scottish soccer in Times Square, New York
Originally uploaded by Mike G. K..

So my poor tired feet are literally throbbing at the moment Before I start to feel sorry for myself though, I have to think back to all the walking I've done this weekend and I feel pretty proud of the battle scars.

I was up early again today and I made plans to meet K&N for brunch not far from Macy's, where I knew that they had wanted to do some shopping. We met at The Crooked Knife and I stuffed in toast, bacon and a poached egg - it was tasty and even the coffee was delicious. Plus the bar was decked out in fairy lights and as my aunt JoJo says, "you can never have too many of them". She's so right.

K&N had bought my Saturday shopping bags with them, so I went back to my apartment and dropped them off while they did some more shopping and stocked up on gifts for family.

I headed home via Borders. The store is closing soon (like all the others around the world) and the place looks like a jumble sale. They didn't have the Keith Richards autobiography that I wanted, but I can get it online another time. And in any case, I did find a couple of books to keep me busy. Typical book nerd!

When I got home I made the mistake of sitting on the couch and I could quite easily have nodded off. So I got up and started to make sense of the flat pack bedroom furniture that I delivered last week. The screwdriver I was using was a little slippery and I ended up carving a chunk out of my hand, so needless to say that put a stop to the furniture assembly. I've slid the flatpack under my bed, where it will no doubt remain for the foreseeable future.

K&N called not long after I sustained this minor injury, and so I jumped on a bus to go and meet them at the fabulous Zabars deli. Some of the shoppers up there would easily have had their 100th birthdays already, but I don't even care about tottering along behind them at a snail's pace. I love the market so much and all the sights, smells and sample plates make going there a fun experience. I picked up some more cinnamon rugelach and a small loaf of signature rye bread and I reckon they will both keep me happy for a while yet.

Walking back from 79th Street, we cut across to walk along Central Park. In the fading daylight the Park looked really beautiful and families and joggers alike were out enjoying the fresh, cool air. It was probably about that point when my feet started to throb (at least in a way that I could clearly feel). Farewelling K&N, I strode across town to 2nd Avenue and jumped on the express bus home.

I really hope that this weekend's weather has been a sign of things to come for us. I'm really looking forward to walking around next weekend, perhaps spending a bit more time in Soho, down through the Lower East Side and around to Battery Park - just for something different. I even got a power adapter for my camera so that I can start documenting my future adventures in pictures for a change.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to put my feet up for a bit!

Satisfying wanderlust, locally

New York Skyline - Three
Originally uploaded by daverobson.

I had a fantastic day yesterday, hanging out with K&N who are visiting New York from Ottawa this weekend.

I got up early and caught two buses to their hotel and thus began our amazing self-guided walking tour of the city.

First stop was FAO Schwarz, quite possibly the most incredible toy store anyone has ever seen. Two guys dressed as toy soldiers opened the doors for us when we arrived, and then those employees closest to the door gave us a standing ovation when we got inside. What the?! It was crazy but quite funny. And remember the giant floor keyboard that Tom Hanks jumps all over to make music in "Big"? Well that's at FAO Schwarz and it is amazing. The employees take requests from the crowd and then they play the tunes - I was there to watch and hear them perform Beethoven's Fur Elise, just crazy. Around that point the kids started to crowd and it all got a bit intense watching the 'musicians' jump up and down from key to key. All I wanted to do was bellyflop and slide across the keyboard. I wonder if you'd get stun-gunned for that?

After that K introduced me to Bloomingdales; such a gorgeous place. We made friends with the shop assistant at the Chanel counter, then got stalked by every fragrance spritzer in the place, and finally allowed ourselves to purchase a pair of gorgeous Calvin Klein ballet flats (they are not grey, they're 'graphite'). Bloomies is onto something when they have a gorgeous man selling ladies shoes - it's an inspired sales tactic. Cha-ching!

We walked slowly back to the hotel to drop off our shopping bags and somehow ended up at Tiffany's. This is not a hardship, trust me. We convinced N to let us go in ("just to do one lap") and I went into a trance as I browsed the shiny, sparkly, shimmery displays of gorgeousness. The 4th floor is where all the Tiffany silver jewellery is and I just love it - the whole place; I mean, I can't pick a favourite. I am proud to say that I walked out empty handed though that was not an easy feat, I can assure you.

It was quite a relief putting down our bags at the hotel and heading off again, with two hands free for more commercial adventures. All the walking and fresh air had given us quite the appetite, so we went to visit The Soup Man (made famous on Seinfeld, "NO SOUP FOR YOU!!") who has reopened his little hole-in-the-wall store on West 55th. I had a delicious jambalaya and for $10, I got the large soup, some bread for dunking (hooray!), and for dessert - an orange and a Lindt chocolate. It was delicious and really good value. The store has little collapsible chairs and tables stacked up against the wall, and you just help yourself to set up an area to eat and when you're done, you just collapse the chairs & tables down again and stack them where you found them. No muss, no fuss - and nobody yells at you either. I loved it.

Replenished by the hearty soups, we kept walking downtown along Broadway, through Times Square which was typically nuts. It's easy enough to bypass Times Square when you're on foot, but sometimes you owe it to yourself to get caught up amongst the craziness and push and shove with the best of them. I think it has to be all part of the experience. I was actually quite pleased to go there because the only exposure I have to Times Square is when I've been going to a play or cutting through there to take the subway home. I've always been en route to somewhere else. This time I was literally just a pedestrian, looking around and soaking in all the souvenir stores, clothing outlets and struggling actors waving pamphlets in their desperate attempts to convince tourists to come and see their shows.

Once we'd made it through the hustle & bustle, we reached our destination - Fishs Eddy (which N, and now me, can't help but call "Eddie Fishers"). It's a dinnerware, houseware, bit-of-everything store which is amazingly cluttered but really gorgeous. And they sell groovy New York-inspired bowls and glasses etc that make excellent gifts. I couldn't resist the NY architecture magnets - even though our fridge is almost collapsing under the weight of our existing ones. These ones are little anyway; they won't do any harm.

While N browsed a nearby camping/outdoors/sports store, K and I rested our weary legs at Union Square. The sun was shining and everyone was out, enjoying the shops and the farmers market and generally just the great opportunity to get out and about.

We headed in the direction of the East Village and wandered past a guy on the street selling amazing vinyls. K couldn't resist picking up some Springsteen - one of the records had never even been opened before, so that was a great find. The guy selling the records suggested we visit the oldest alehouse in New York, so we wandered there next.

At the corner of E 7th St & 3rd Ave, McSorley's Old Ale House was established in 1854. It is a little bit tucked out of the way but was almost bursting at the seams by the time we got there. With sawdust on the floor, a creepy bouncer and low, dark ceilings it's a very 'old time' atmosphere. I couldn't tell you what kind of beers they have, or what the service is like, because we didn't stay. I am certainly going to come back another time, but maybe when it's a bit earlier in the day and the place isn't quite as busy.

We walked a bit further to the corner of 1st & 1st, to The Tuckshop - a great little place run by an Australian-Irish guy. Neither K nor N had been there before, and I had lured them there with the promise of Aussie beer and meat pies. I delivered on the former (Coopers Pales) but instead of the latter we split a pork & sage sausage roll which was delicious.

By this stage we were hungry again and we agreed that Italian food would go down a treat. I did a bit of Googling to find something nearby and we chose to visit Three of Cups. The restaurant doesn't have Italian decor at all, but the menu is really diverse and authentic and delicious. I devoured my mushroom tortellini and I don't think my lemon sorbet dessert even touched the sides. I was so famished! But the meal was great and the bottles of Chianti we shared were a wonderful reward for such a great day's exercise.

I'm up early again today (Sunday) and my legs are admittedly feeling a little tender. I don't think I'm going to be as tough on them today, but I am still going to get out & about. There are some flea markets that i want to see, plus a girl's gotta brunch - so that's on the agenda too. I'm just not sure where any of these things will take place. I had better put on comfy walking shoes - just in case...

Kneading to try new things

So I'm a total slave to The Food Network - I know it; and I'm pretty sure that on some level, the Network also knows it. I love getting into the kitchen and cooking up a storm. I've always been way more into cooking than baking - for me, the precision of baking has always intimidated me. Well, that and a very clear memory of trying to bake Anzac Day biscuits and instead, setting them on fire and dashing out of the kitchen bearing flaming baking trays, ready to fling them off the balcony. Just awful.

I think I respond to the more experimental, have-a-go nature of cooking because it's more experimental and a bit more forgiving. Sure, things still catch fire from time to time but there doesn't seem as much of a science to it.

This past Saturday I wanted to (literally) try my hands at a bit of baking and I went along to a bread-baking workshop at the commercial bakery at Le Pain Quotidien on Bleecker Street. Under the expert tutelage of Le Pain's resident baker Karen, I joined a small class of 6 other novice bakers to learn the basics of baking bread.

When we all had to introduce ourselves, I learned that none of us in the class had ever baked a loaf of bread before - not even with a bread maker. I was certainly in safe company. Keen consumers of baked goods, my fellow classmates and I listened intently as Karen talked us through the different stages of bread baking. After a basic overview and a bit of demonstration, we got our hands dirty.

Helping to pre-shape, rest, score and bake baguettes and dinner rolls, I realised that I know so little about baking. Kneading bread looks easy but if you've never done it before you have no idea what the dough is supposed to feel like, how much pressure you're supposed to apply, and how much kneading is too much. I was a bit lost, I have to say.

Still, Karen was a very patient teacher and fortunately all our baguettes and rolls ended up mixed up once they got into the oven, so nobody's screw-ups stood out. That said, when I was scoring a baguette before it went into the oven, I did it rather gingerly because I was afraid I would slice straight through it. As a result of my sissy cuts, the ends of the baguette baked so crispy and spiky that the class declared it to be pretty dangerous. A true standout! The bakery assistant suggested I snap the spiky ends off before I got on the subway to go home, lest I puncture someone. They may have looked deadly, but those spiky ends were tasty!

There was a lot to remember in the class - weights, measures, temperatures, procedures. I don't know, maybe practice would make perfect but I just find that cooking is so much easier. Unless you're making something notoriously tricky like a souffle, cooking is a fairly simple affair. With baking bread (in particular), you're dealing with a living dough that needs to be treated well and as such, you need to pay so much more attention to it. If your baking conditions aren't exactly right, your end product will be compromised. That's a bit too much pressure for me, I'm afraid.

My three-hour crash course in the bakery was a lot of fun and I'm glad that the other people in my class were also beginners. Karen was a patient and enthusiastic teacher who clearly demonstrated that baking can be fun, but that there's also a real art to it. Knowing how much work and passion goes into the bread baking, I don't think I'll scoff at paying that little bit extra for the good stuff from now on.

Waking Up To Myself

Super-Cat! (Aka Evie)
Originally uploaded by Chrissie64.

You may or may not be pleased to know that I am not dead.

I have been taking a blogging hiatus because real life has been so mundane that blogging about it seemed totally pointless. I know it sounds ridiculous to think that life could possibly be mundane in such a vibrant and wonderful city as New York, but life (as I know it anyway) has been exactly that. Home-Work-Home. But trust me when I tell you, it has been completely blissful. I've had self-indulgent weekends spent catching up on Food Network and DVDs, reading the latest edition of "The New Yorker", and cooking for myself.

I am on a bit of a health kick, you see. In less than six months, Baby Sister gets married and I'm maid of honour. That means that photographs are going to be taken of me/us. In some of them i'll be posing and the rest will no doubt be candid ones taken from any number of bizarre angles. I loathe having my photos taken, but there's not much that one can do about it for a wedding - they're part of the territory. So I'm getting a jump start on "Project: Body Modification" so that from as many angles as possible, I don't look like a blob.

As I walked to work the other day I was thinking about HOW I might approach this weight loss/body improvement task. Stage 1 is getting my diet back on track - not dieting per se, but a healthy eating plan is what I mean. I was going to put 'exercise' at Stage 1, but the very thought of doing sit-ups literally made me dizzy so I'm shelving the fitness bit for a while. I'm on Day 3 of this healthy eating plan and I'm so far doing pretty well. I'm taking my lunch to work every day - salads - so I feel very smug about that. I drink about 4 litres of water in the office, and so obviously I pee about every 12 minutes which is way too much information for you. I can't remember the last time I had a beer (maybe in K's old place when I first arrived) and with the exception of a spectacular albeit unscheduled fall off the wagon this past Friday night, I haven't had wine in two weeks [the Baileys I drank during the Oscars doesn't count because I was celebrating Colin Firth's win. It's the "Colin Firth Defence", so there]. On the food front at least, I'm headed in the right direction to be camera-ready by late August. I just need to psych myself up for some sort of gym-related business. Ugh. The things I do for Baby Sister.

With K due back from Europe this weekend, I'm also more energised to come out of hibernation and get to know the city. I don't mind doing touristy things on my own of course, but it's just nice to have someone else around who can recommend places you should/shouldn't visit. So yes, more outdoor activities are essential - particularly as the weather is slowly improving and it is staying lighter longer. Plus next weekend K&N are in town from Canada and I'm tagging along with some of their activities - can't wait!

Bright Lights, Big Bellies

Zabar's - West side of B'way & 81st
Originally uploaded by Ed Yourdon.

Continuing the tradition that I began in London, I took myself off on some experimental bus travel this morning. As is my way, I knew where I needed to go conceptually, but by virtue of my very dodgy sense of direction I wasn't convinced I would actually get there.

Today's destination was Zabar's, the famous Jewish market on the Upper West Side, and a New York insitution. I could have taken the subway from my place to get there (the No.1 train stops a block from the market's front door), but I figured that if I took the bus and stayed above ground, I had a better chance of getting my bearings. Well that was the plan anyway. I took the express bus up 1st Avenue, then switched at 79th street and headed west through Central Park. Snow flurries had started to fall, but I was so excited about my culinary expedition I didn't even care. When the bus deposited me at 79th and Broadway, I saw the subway exit and immediately headed in the opposite direction of the market. Typical.

In my defence though, heading towards me were people carrying Zabar's bags, so I concluded they must be walking away from the store. Fair assumption, right? Whatever. Anyway the point is I finally worked out my mistake and changed my direction (nonchalantly of course, just in case anyone had been watching me do anything dorky). On the upside, my geographical error did take me past Fairway Market, one that a lady at my office told me that she actually prefers over Zabar's. Certainly the fresh fruit and vegetables piled up out the front, including big fat strawberries, looked very tempting indeed.

But I was focussed on Zabar's so I was so glad when I finally found it. I didn't go in there with any particular shopping list, but I did want to have bagels and cream cheese. As it turned out, on my way into the market I spotted H&H Bagels that I remember from an ancient episode of SATC. So I called in there and bought my bagels and cream cheese instead. Did I mention the bagels were still warm, just fresh out of the oven? Praised be.

Back to Zabar's I went and was instantly hit with the amazing aroma of cheese, smoked fish and fresh bread. Wandering around the store, picking up jars of Euro goodies and little tubs of pate, dips and spreads I was just in heaven. I didn't pick up a shopping basket (else I would have easily filled it), so I only bought what I could carry. I grabbed some signature rye bread - that the lady kindly sliced thickly for me. The rye is topped with lots of fresh caraway seeds, which I can normally take or leave but in this case, they are soooo good. I bought some Israeli hummus that is so garlicky nobody will come near me for days, and I also bought some whole wheat pasta (love) and some French raspberry & pomegranate jam. I couldn't resist throwing in some delicious cinnamon rugelach, gorgeous dense pastry shaped almost like little croissants but not as flaky. As I type this, I am dunking one into my espresso. Jealous, much?

I allowed the crowd to push me towards the registers and I made my way out of Zabar's, bag of goodies in hand. I was feeling rather fabulous at this point and brave enough to take the subway home. I don't know why I do these things to myself. I caught the right train in the right direction, so I started well. Then I listened to two Jesus preachers on the carriage, prompting the young guy next to me to suggest that we were possibly on the most entertaining subway in Manhattan. Alighting the train at 34th Street (my stop), I was in completely unfamiliar territory. This wasn't a part of 34th street I'd ever seen before. Why hadn't I thought to bring a map?

Rather than completely lose my nuts at this point, I went and bought some makeup and a giant coffee and just started to walk. Slowly but surely, 34th Street started to look more familiar and then off in the distance I could see my building. Success!

With the Presidents Day public holiday I get to be a good little ethnic for the next few days and enjoy my yummy delights, before heading back to work on Tuesday.

The next time I head back up that way, I'm going to be brave and try some of the smoked fish that other Zabar's shoppers were sampling today. I think that would be quite tasty. I'd also buy some guacamole because that looked delicious - and obviously I'd need to leave room for more signature rye bread and rugelach - a girl's gotta have her pantry staples after all.

Seek and ye shall find

coffee break-eh
Originally uploaded by alvin lamucho © busy!!!.

I find myself three weeks in to this New York experience and I've thrown myself into a crusade of sorts. I'm on a mission to find delicious coffee and so every work day from now, I'm going to do my best to buy my morning coffee from a different place en route to my office.

This is actually easier than it sounds, as I reckon I probably pass at least 50 places that sell coffee in the 8 blocks between my apartment and work. And that's just on the direct route. If I go one or two blocks out of my way, imagine the options I'll find!

The first week that I was back in the US, it was too easy to become a slave to Starbucks. There is one right next door to my office (let's face it, there's one next door to everyone's office!). I figured I had enough on my plate just settling in at work that I couldn't really be bothered mastering a different coffee shop's menu or ordering protocols.

Then K took me to Macchiato Espresso Bar, and the lady at the register knew what we wanted when we ordered a flat white - which I thought was lovely. Granted the barista called it a "no foam latte" but at least we can work with that. I love this place but so do many people, because it's always really crowded whenever I walk past these days.

For a while I was also going to Metro Cafe, literally across the street from my office. I like their coffee - it's nice and strong and not too milky - but the women in there are so surly that I find it hard to deal with them. I'm grouchy enough in the morning - I need a pleasant (but not too pleasant) person to greet me at the register. Picky, picky.

Then across the street there's that old staple, Pret A Manger. Nothing wrong with this place - their filter coffee is pretty terrible, but their lattes aren't too bad. I always seem to get served by the same guy on the registers and he's overly pleasant which kills me (maybe he's having too much Pret caffeine on his breaks!?).

Quite by mistake I found Aroma Espresso Bar. This place is also about a block from my office but is one of those places that is always so busy that I wouldn't go in there unless I was with someone else. Their coffees are milky but strong, but the sandwich menu (that I could see from where I was sitting) is so confusing I just can't do it.

Today's effort was Cafe'o on 3rd Avenue, a tiny little place accessible through the lobby of a large office building. The coffee was milky and not nearly strong enough, but the thing that ticked me off first was the fact that the lady on the register began serving the customer behind me before I'd even stepped out of the way. What's up with that?! It happens so often these days and it never ceases to drive me nuts.

Not only does this search demonstrate that I am clearly a loser in desperate need of a life, but it shows the amazing array of choice in this city. You literally never have to have coffee at the same place twice and I love that. Tomorrow, the quest continues.

Bacon, Be My Valentine?

mmmm, Bacon!
Originally uploaded by magpie-moon.

I had forgotten just how much the US loves its Hallmark Holidays so when I got back here, I was hit with the full force gale that was Valentine's Day.

Now I assure you that I'm not bitter and twisted about being single on February 14. That wasn't always the case though. I remember being at high school and over the course of the day, announcements would be made over the PA system summoning girls to the front office to collect their $5 roses sent to them from pimply kids from our brother school. At the time I was so envious and would ooh and aah along with the lucky girls about just how fortunate they were to have some hormone factory so obviously in love with them.

But as an adult, is it just me who thinks that the ladies who receive flowers at the office are in the minority? I don't actually know any couples who even acknowledge Valentine's Day, much less make a fuss of it. Maybe that's just a consequence of growing up, or maybe its a grizzled effort to stick it to the man and stubbornly refuse to subscribe to an overly commercialised excuse to jack up the price of flowers and sell cheap cards with lame messages. Maybe.

Ahem.

So yes, rather than debate the pros and cons of Valentine's Day yesterday, K and I just flat-out ignored it and instead invited P to join us for dinner. It was the first chance we'd had to cook a full meal in our new kitchen, plus I had wanted to roadtest the bacon-wrapped steaks that I'd recently bought.

I think most people worry about overcooking steak. I am quite the opposite. I couldn't quite manage to crisp up the bacon around the steaks; something that I think would have been much easier on a traditional BBQ. All the same, the bacon infused a delicious smokey flavour to the meat and kept the fillets nice and juicy. We served some vegetables alongside so that we could assure our mothers that were at least ingesting beneficial vitamins of some description. There are vitamins in sparkling shiraz too, right?

Dessert was a delicious affogato, using Haagen-Dasz vanilla bean ice cream with cold Baileys & hot espresso poured on top. We stopped counting vitamins at that point.

As far as February 14 celebrations go, it was a wonderful one. And just when you try and catch your breath after an overdose of paper lovehearts, soppy messages and cheap chocolates, the greeting card aisle is blasted in bright green as we move on to St Patrick's Day on March 17. Good grief!

The Warm(ish) Weekend That Was

The phrase 'everything in moderation' really sums up my weekend. In pretty much equal measure, I've done my share of shopping, laundry, eating and drinking - and NY turned on some lovely weather to let me fit it all in.

Dinner on Saturday night was at Arte on the Upper West Side with some friends and it was delicious. Hearty and authentic Italian - I couldn't resist the spaghetti & meatballs. Washing it down with some Chianti just added to the experience. After dinner we walked to The Amsterdam Alehouse for a farewell get-together for one of K's friends. The music there was especially good - as the red wine (etc) flowed, we sang along. Okay, K and I sang along and danced in our seats. We were awesome.

Today we headed to the Upper East Side and had a late breakfast at a gorgeous neighbourhood cafe that we stumbled across. Restored by strong coffee and OJ, we wandered up the street and spent a silly sum of money at Bed, Bath and Beyond to further kit out the new apartment. Fortunately we had the good sense to get the purchases delivered so we didn't have to lug everything around with us. Totally worth it! We then walked a couple of blocks south to have brunch with a couple of K's friends. We met up at Ze Cafe and I am definitely going back there again. The service was great and everything on the menu tempted me. Don't you just love those kind of places?

So here we are on Sunday night (already!?) and it's back to work again tomorrow. K's disappearing overseas at the end of this week and I'll be unsupervised for 2 whole weeks. Invitations to brunches are heartily encouraged.

Theatre, Sushi and Music....oh my!

Project 365 day 36 2/5/11
Originally uploaded by MDanalakis.

Another busy week at work is over and it's Saturday morning again. I am reclining on the couch nursing the laptop and a strong cup of coffee.

My brain is pretty sore at the moment but I know it's just because I've been taking in a lot of stuff at work again this week. We've had a number of meetings and events that have introduced me to new people, new topics and yes, new acronyms. I have a lovely office of my own at the moment and I can see the Empire State Building from my window. I defy anyone to complain about that! Come 4pm though, the sun comes streaming through my window and the whole place heats up like an oven. Not very conducive to concentrating on work stuff, let me tell you. I find myself wandering back towards the window and trying to squeeze my butt on the window ledge to soak up the rays like a cat. Blissful.

But this week hasn't been all about work either.

Earlier in the week my friend from work SK took me to the Library Hotel, not far from our office. The rooftop bar there is called "Bookmarks", which totally appealed to the geek in me. We had a couple of glasses of Bordeaux, which the lady told us is not normally on the 'wines by the glass' list, but someone had ordered a bottle of it and changed their mind so they had one open. It was delicious and just what we needed after a busy day. It was nice to catch up with SK because we don't see much of each other in the office really.

K has also been introducing me to the more cultural pursuits available in this wonderful city this week. On Thursday night we went to a very cute little theatre in the East Village to see "Three Sisters", starring the gorgeous Maggie G (can't spell her last name) and her real-life husband Peter S (can't spell his last name either). The acting was really impressive and the chemistry between Maggie's and Peter's characters was excellent. Still being a Russian play, there were 3 hours worth of tears, 'woe is me' speeches and all that, but I still really enjoyed it. One of our fellow audience members was that guy who was in that SATC episode where Carrie goes to work at Vogue and the big chief editor guy gets her drunk on martinis and calls her "Cookie", then drops his pants. Yep, he was our celebrity spot of the evening. Well, WE were impressed anyway.

Friday night we met up with ES for sushi at Haru, not far from Union Square. I am relatively new to sushi, and I can't use chopsticks, so I need to keep whatever I eat really simple. I had some lovely pomegranate martinis (not authentic), to pair with my spicy maki roll selection (very authentic). The restaurant was really busy and it was great atmosphere.

After dinner, ES headed home and K and I continued to a place around the corner called Irving Plaza. It's a live music venue that is spread across a couple of floors. We were there to see one of Kate's favourite bands, Morcheeba. I know some of their stuff, but not a lot, though I know that they changed lead singers at one stage, with mixed results. The original lead singer was back with the band for last night's show and it was excellent. The crowd really got into it - even the weirdo hippy woman in the pixie hat who bought her hula hoop to the gig and stood behind us, holidng her hoop aloft and singing along. Much to our relief she then wormed her way to the very front and apparently ended up ON the stage with the band. I didn't see that part - I didn't see much actually.....there were lots of tall people there haha. After Morcheeba finished we ended up walking back to our apartment. The night was cold but we were all rugged up and there were lots of people around.

I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow though and I slept the sleep of the dead, which I must have needed.

Back on the grid and back in the game

Today is Superbowl Sunday but in this new apartment, a real football-free zone, you wouldn't really know it. We have been in the new place less than a week and now that we've got our cable TV and internet connected, I think we're feeling a bit more settled. The floor is still dotted with moving boxes that we've not found the energy to unpack, but otherwise we're doing really well.

On Thursday we took the night off from unpacking to go out. With our friend KW, we went to a wine tasting at Crush and then to a hidden little burger joint inside Le Parker Meridien hotel. A total treasure, trust me. Then K and I went on to Times Square to see "The Importance of Being Earnest" - it was fantastic. I have always loved Oscar Wilde and this production was typically witty and charming.

It's been a busy week because even though we took Tuesday off as a moving day, we've otherwise been at work full time. It was my first week in the new job and I was trying to take so much in that by Friday afternoon my brain was fried. I have been sleeping really well as a result, so I'm feeling pretty good. But I am also really challenged by my new job. Even though I know I can do my job and I feel very comfortable with the operational aspects of the role, the new environment that I'm in is really new to me. I'm working on issues that are so foreign and interesting, alongside people whose subject knowledge is so rich that I can't help but be impressed by it all. I love this part of new job - where everything is exciting, confusing, and full of potential. I'm really looking forward to soaking up as much expertise from my colleagues as I can and really getting my teeth into the new work. The girls in the office took me out for a welcome lunch on Friday afternoon too, which I thought was a really lovely gesture.

NYC is a dynamic and wonderful city. People here have been so friendly to me - saying good morning, holding doors open, asking me how I am - it's such a change from my London experience. One of the girls at work suggested that I'm just getting out what I'm putting in - that I'm trying that little bit harder here than I did in London, and perhaps she's right. I think I know that I want to be here, so I'm making more of an effort to get along with people and make my mark. Plus my accent helps, as I knew it would. But you know, so what? I am just glad that I'm back to my positive self - I missed that.

But it's funny how quickly life goes back to normal. Here I am in a new city, being challenged by a new job and settling in to a new apartment. And yet Sunday morning, I'm back to scrubbing the shower and then doing loads of laundry. The life of a big city girl, eh?!

You're smiling? You must be new here.

I had my first day at work today and like all first days, it was quite overwhelming.

K kindly accompanied me through Grand Central Station and up to my office building. I would have found it on my own eventually (you reckon?!), but faffing around with my ridiculous sense of direction was not something I needed to do today.

After a delicious coffee with K, I arrived in my building early and got through the building security process just fine. Safely inside my new office, I was taken through the usual inductions and I met so many people. In typical post-30th birthday fashion, names went into my head and immediately whizzed out again. Hopeless. I was trying to make sense of acronyms galore, who's who in the zoo, and generally where my role fits in the greater scheme of things. Everybody at the office was understandably patient about this of course, as they've all been through it before - but everyone I met today seemed lovely and helpful and I'm looking forward to getting to know them better.

Lunch time was rather administrative, in the sense that I got my US banking business sorted, followed by a ridiculously large shop for all manner of toiletries to furnish the main bathroom in the new apartment. We're moving in tomorrow and I wanted to make sure that the main bathroom (that I will be using) has all the usual stuff in it so I'm not caught short on Wednesday morning when I have to get ready for work. I'm such a nerd, I know. The poor man at the store probably thought I was stocking up for the end of the world or something but there was no point explaining. I bought a red hairdryer. With a retractable cord. Hands down, the best purchase of the day.

My brain is tired now, so fortunately the most strenuous thing I'll have to do tonight is to help K pack the last of our moving boxes. As long as I don't have to think as part of that process, we should be fine.

It's really cool to think that by this time tomorrow, we'll have moved in to our new bachelorette pad. I reckon it will take us some time to shift things around into a layout that we're happy with, but I know it's going to be fun. I've told K that I'm going to have a crack at growing herbs on our kitchen windowsill. She didn't laugh at me, but I don't think she really took me too seriously either. Perhaps she was just flashing back to the last houseplant that we managed to kill with kindness. We named him Dennis and he lived in our bathroom. We figured that if we named him, we'd be more inclined to take better care of him but in the end, we loved the poor thing to death. It's been a couple of years since the demise of Dennis, and I'm totally ready to tackle some kitchen herb cultivation. Wish me luck.

I know this is only the end of Day 1, but I reckon it's going to be a really fun couple of months ahead - at work and at play.

Saturday in the City

mario_batali
Originally uploaded by andrewkist.

American TV cracks me up.

For one thing, I had forgotten how intense the Food Network can be - but that addiction was never really too far away. Second of all, the infomercials are amazing. Just yesterday I saw ads for pyjama jeans - so called because they look like denim but are made of pyjama fabric and the ad ASSURES me that I can wear them anywhere, anytime. Riiiight. Then there was the little reusable press-stud snaps that you stick on to the bottoms of your jeans so you can hem them effortlessly (so you can wear your pyjama jeans with heels OR flats). Genius. But ever the glutton, my favourite ad is the chef basket. It looks like a lobster pot made of chicken wire, and it has so many uses - its handles never get hot, so you can handle it straight out of the pot, with no fear of burning yourself. You can cook pasta in it, you can steam veggies in it, and it all folds flat and stores in a drawer. Inspired.

Such silly TV viewing conjured up quite an appetite, so it was very timely that we visited Mario Batali's "Otto" enoteca pizzeria last night. Don't ask me where it is because I just followed like a little duckling. K told me the neighbourhood but I forget. We had dinner with a couple of Aussie friends in from London, and a few of their relatives/friends. It was great - we just ordered a heap of different dishes and shared them. We had a fennel salad, plates of cured meats, some pastas and pizzas, washed down with some lovely red wine.

Walking back through the streets to find a taxi home, I was really grateful for my new, long down-filled winter coat. NY is still recovering from a really heavy snowfall the other day, and a winter chill is still in the air. Just as the food coma overtook me, I fell into bed and a fabulous deep sleep. Love it.

Tu vuoi far' Americana

Statue of Liberty
Originally uploaded by Pragmatic1111.

Ok so I've been back "home" 24 hours and already it feels like the best decision I've ever made.

My flight was on time yesterday and even though I wasn't sad about leaving London i still felt weird about going through Heathrow. In fact I was so distracted that I picked up all my stuff off the security conveyer belt EXCEPT my bright pink carry on suitcase! I got a few minutes away before I realised how lightly I was travelling and by the time I got back to security, nobody had even noticed my abandoned suitcase. I'm not sure how I would have been able to explain myself had they decided to detonate my stuff. Ugh.

I flew over on a BA flight and I don't think I'll ever do it again. K tells me that no trans-Atlantic flights offer good TV services but honestly, it feels positively archaic when the airline tells you that they're screening movies in two cycles. You have no control over the stop-start of whatever you want to watch. As it was, I half-watched "The American' with George Clooney (yawn) and half of "The Kids Are Alright" with Annette Benning. Otherwise I was drinking red wine to try and drown out the noise of two young baby girls who were seated behind me. Ugh it was really annoying but what's the point of getting annoyed at babies on planes? The air pressure blocks their little ears and they can't help but get distressed by it. I just wish they could be a bit quieter when distressed, that's all. I'm so mean, I know.

But I got to NYC and all was well. I settled in to K's place and slept like the proverbial dead. This morning we got up and went to a diner not far from K's place, for some breakfast. I was craving some rye toast and it proved totally worth the effort to go to the restaurant for something to eat. After that I went across the street and chose a queen size bed to store in the new apartment that K and I have rented.

The flat is really beautiful, I have to say. The bathrooms are dated but the rest of the place is bright, airy and perfectly suited to the two of us. K has an ensuite bathroom and mine is the main bathroom, so we worked really hard to scrub both rooms today and make them something that we're going to be able to use every day. My bathroom walls were so filthy - mostly dust really - but when I was done, I was really pleased with the result. My bedroom is quite spacious too and I think when I finally get my furniture in there, and my luggage unpacked, things are going to be really great.

Photos will follow of course, when things are in their places and we're a bit more settled. We move in on Tuesday - my new bed & mattress included - so the new NYC lifestyle will really kick in then!

Closing Time

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.

So it is on my last night in London, I'm sitting here thinking about what an amazing six months I've had here. I was going to write a bit about the things I loved (and the things I didn't) but I just don't think my brain is up to it.

This past week has been a whirlwind of handover during the day, and eating waaaay too much at night. I did get to try some fantastic new restaurants though, so that was a definite plus. This week's gluttony has reached such a zenith that I'm pretty sure that my blood is no longer full of red blood cells; rather, I now consist simply of red meat and red wine. I am going to have to take things easy for a while...and perhaps eat something green, for a change.

When the dust settles and I'm safe and sound in New York, I'll kick my brain in gear and provide a better wrap-up of my last week in London. It will be a literal retrospective, but I am confident you'll cut me some slack on that one.

So until then friends, stay safe and well and I'll see you back "across the pond"!

Call the waaaaa-mbulance!

A friend asked me the other day whether I will be sad to leave London. Quick as a flash I answered "no". We laughed about that - I think my rapid response shocked her. Days later I still stand by my answer but in retrospect I would like to have taken longer to respond. I've been thinking about it ever since and I just wish I could feel torn about moving on from here. But I don't.

Please don't misunderstand me - it's not that I don't like London. This is a beautiful city that has so much to offer its residents and tourists alike. I would recommend that everybody visit here because for architecture and tourist treats alone, London is an absolute winner. The museums and galleries are incredible. The transport links are great, even when the carriages are overcrowded and their ventilation a little sporadic. The shopping is fantastic too - wonderful and cheap choices for groceries and market foods, but also amazing boutiques and high street stores for the fashion-conscious too. The public parks and gardens are relaxing and well-used spaces that are gorgeous in summer and awesomely spooky winter wonderlands. And that's saying nothing about Europe being right on the doorstep.

But let's face it, being in London on your own is a bit of a fizzer. Hey, being in any foreign city on your own probably is too, to be honest. Spending the last six months on my own here has been a real learning experience. While I'm not sad to be leaving here, I think for my own future recollections I should probably remind myself why.

For starters (and at the risk of stating the bleeding obvious), London is a really expensive city. To live well but also within my means (as I was really desperate to do), I knew I would have to share a house and I found that really hard. Not conceptually - I was happy about the idea of sharing, but I was just continually disheartened by constant rejections and the ridiculous competition for fleabag s**thole apartments that I identified within my budget. I was just looking for somewhere warm, comfortable and affordable, close enough to the city that I could still stay out late at nights and not be stranded in the city if I missed the last train home. I wanted a house I could come home to after a night at a funky restaurant, or going to the theatre - a place where friends and family could stay when they came to visit me. I think those are fairly simple things but I struggled to make them happen for myself. Too many other people seemed to want exactly those same things. Typical!

From my experience, London has not been the friendliest city in the world either. Many of the Aussies I've met seem so settled here and breaking into their established friendship groups is really tiring. Maybe you get too old to keep trying? Being an Aussie is nothing special here either and I confess that was a bit of a surprise to me. As I have often said to people when talking about the Aussie invasion here, the guy next to you at the pub is an Aussie, but the guy pouring your beer is too. We're just everywhere - the city is crawling with Aussies. At first I thought that would be kinda cool - an easy familiarity and a friendly, welcoming environment. It just hasn't been that way....for me, I mean. I know lots of other Aussies for whom this whole posting will be weird and the polar opposite of their London experience but I can only comment on what I know.

My immediate workmates were really supportive and in that family atmosphere, their encouragement really helped. I was even fortunate enough to stay with a couple of them during the horrible transition times and that was so generous. I maintain that so much of my enjoyment of London is a direct result of my love for my job and my workmates. Then again, I know people outside of my immediate office (but still within my building) had made snide remarks about what a snob I was being and how if I just looked further out of the city and settled for a longer commute my accommodation problems would surely be over. Fair enough perhaps, but what about my quality of life and the things I wanted to do here (theatre, restaurants, entertainment)? Long commutes be hanged. Did they think that comments like theirs wouldn't get back to me?! Discouraging attitudes like that I will definitely not miss.

In answering my friend the other day, I know I'm not sad to leave London because I don't regret coming here. If I hadn't have come to London, I know I wouldn't have been as qualified for my new role in New York. The challenges I've faced here have made me curse, cry and generally be a complete grouch at times, but I am glad I dealt with them. For six months I have done a job that I've loved, and worked with an amazing bunch of people. I'll certainly be sad to leave them - but for now I feel ready to skip back across the pond and see what the Big Apple has in store for me.

Let's start with a well-ventilated public transport system, and go baby steps from there.

A grey day out, and one head still attached

The last time I visited the Tower of London I arrived after hours to observe the Ceremony of the Keys. This time I was up early to join the first tour of the day, "headed up" by Yeoman Warder McGrath. [See what I did there? "Headed up" - Tower of London - beheadings - oh man. Tough crowd.]

Anyhoo, the Yeoman Warders are the guards of the Tower and keepers of its history. Our tour guide was full to the brim with anecdotes and tall tales of the bloody, tragic and mysterious that have come to characterise the Tower of London. There were a couple of young kids in our tour group and the Yeoman Warder always made sure that they could see and hear everything. I stood not far from them, so I could see and hear everything too. The tour went for about 45 minutes, after which time we were released and left to explore on our own time.

The skies were getting darker by the minute, so I headed indoors to go check out The Crown Jewels. The sparkly collection is truly beautiful. Hard to believe that the jewels have been in the Tower's care for over 600 years - and some of the collection is over 900 years old. In the main gallery room, I rode a small travelator (those moving walkway thingies in airports - aren't they called travelators?) that tootled me past the most impressive collection of precious stones I've ever seen in one place.

After that I stopped into the gift shop (of course) and proceeded on to the chapel, into the White Tower to see the armoury, and back onto the lawns. When I came to see the Ceremony of the Keys I didn't get to see the six ravens that live in the Tower, but I did today. Legend has it that if the ravens leave the Tower of London, the kingdom will fall. Have you ever seen a raven? They're damn big. I reckon if one flew into the Tower, that might be enough to knock it down. Or perhaps I've been playing Angry Birds on my phone a little too often these days. To the sound of the ravens squawking at me, I left the Tower of London (through two more gift shops) and had some lunch at the nearby pub, Hung Drawn and Quartered. Their house pie is excellent, but their vegetable side dish is not so much.

I've scored a new job in the US and I start at the end of this month, so I've only got two weekends left to see some key London tourist attractions on my bucket list. Tomorrow is a long overdue haircut (not a tourist attraction) and an afternoon hiding out in one of the city's - and probably the world's - best-loved galleries.

Some Yum Dim Sum

In the interests of word economy on this site, I've decided henceforth to refer to Gus the Wonderdog's parents as S&M. After all, this way I'm giving an accurate representation of both their initials - and there's no risk of confusing them with a supermarket.

So S&M are headed into their literal home stretch, getting ready to head back to Australia after an enjoyable four-year stint here. I know I've really enjoyed hearing their stories about it and I will certainly miss them when they go away. We don't have many days left together, so I was really pleased when they invited me out tonight for dinner in Chinatown and a movie in Leicester Square (in the same theatre where the movie premieres are held).

I have eaten in Chinatown a couple of times since I moved here, but I find it such a confusing place that I've never been to the same place twice - cause I can never find the same place twice! Typically dodgy sense of direction.

Tonight the girls took me to Dumplings Legend, a place that they had been to before, and really liked. The place was doing a roaring trade and while we waited for a table, we got to see inside the dumpling-making kitchen. We could clearly see two very practiced chefs fill and mould a huge variety of little flavour pockets, and ready them for the bamboo steamers. It was quite mesmeric actually. In almost no time we had our seats and I took a look at the menu. Crikey - so much choice! Naturally we deferred to M to select our items.

I think tonight was actually my first authentic dim sum meal since 2005, when Reg and I were in Hong Kong and we went to a floating dim sum restaurant called Jumbos. I remember being totally overwhelmed by that place, but I loved it all the same . Like Jumbos, Dumplings Legend was cheap, cheerful and really tasty. M ordered about 8 little plates and at first I thought that might have been a bit ambitious but I tell you, it was the perfect amount. M made some great choices too and the meal was just delicious. I was particularly intrigued by the soup dumplings, where the soup was actually inside the dumpling! S kindly demonstrated the art of eating them and I did my best not to slop anything down the front of any of us - hooray, success!

After my gluttonous experience, I was really relieved when we took our slow walk back to the cinemas in Leicester Square. We called into Stanford's Map Shop en route and I somehow managed to avoid buying anything, though the NY subway map shower curtain was very tempting...

Having very much enjoyed "The King's Speech" when I saw it in Chicago, I was really hoping that S&M would like it too. The Odeon in Leicester Square is one of those cinemas where you have to choose your seats beforehand, and we were fortunate that the three seats we picked were far enough down the back and away from other people that we felt like we had some space to ourselves. I actually found the movie to be more enjoyable the second time around, and I'm totally back on the Colin Firth Admiration Wagon again. After our Dumplings Legend experience, Mr Firth was definitely our 9th tasty dish of the evening!

The V&A is AOK

I've only been back in London a week and I've become a bit of a culture vulture again. Case in point, on Monday I spent several pleasant hours wandering around the Victoria & Albert Museum. A big fan of the Queen Victoria & Prince Albert love story, I couldn't resist calling in.

In fact, we'd only been talking about the V&A when I was in New York for NYE so I was really looking forward to exploring it when I got back to London.

Having visited the place now, I have to concur with AH that the V&A has the most beautiful and diverse gift shop I think I've ever seen. I couldn't resist buying some goodies, though I only scored one gift for myself and bestowed the others on my Mum & sister. Gold star for me.

I didn't go into any of the special exhibitions that the Museum was showcasing, simply because I figured there was so much else to occupy my attention. I spent a long time browsing the jewellery collection, and nearly got kicked out for photographing a really ugly jewel-encrusted Jack Russell brooch that I wanted to show Gus the Wonderdog's parents. Fortunately the museum guards didn't see me photograph the 19th Century amethyst & diamond grape necklace that I emailed to K. I'm such a rebel.

I was equally impressed with the silver & gold collections (anything sparkly, it seems). Some of the cases had really comprehensive information panels so I learned a bit about how silver was used in the olden days as a symbol of wealth and prestige - and passed down to family members through the generations. There was so much to see that I didn't know where to look next.

It's a good thing that like the V&A, most London museums and galleries are free to visit. I love to visit them, but I find it really easy to overdose on all the information and spectacle that I find there. Having left the V&A I seriously thought about calling into The British Museum across the road, but I didn't because I thought my head might explode. Still, they have an Egyptian exhibition on at the moment that I simply HAVE to see - a job for next weekend, maybe.

Back in Londonland

It's such a wrinkled cliche but time really DOES fly when you're having fun and before I knew it, my Christmas/New Year break was over and I was back to London to get ready for work.

When I got back on Sunday I settled into yet another sublet arrangement, this time looking after a bedroom for a NZ guy who's gone back home until 23 January. So far, so good. I have my own room at the top of the house where I can close the door and read, or muck about on my computer, or I can go to bed early. This may sound anti-social to you, but bear in mind these are the sorts of things I would do if I lived by myself anyway, such is my dynamic nature (not).

I don't know...I think I'm probably just getting old and grouchy. I'm over the whole 'share-house' thing - too many people living in a house make me think of hippy communes. I can only take a shower every day if I don't think about how many other people have showered in it since it was last cleaned (shudder). Ditto the toilet, whose seat one room mate insists on leaving up, even though I know there are at least 2 other girls living here. I guess I shouldn't complain too loudly, as said male room mate at least has good aim.

I haven't cooked any meals in the kitchen yet; indeed, I haven't even been into the kitchen since I moved in, so I'm not sure what state that's in. I know that the washing machine is down there, so I'll check it out this weekend. I hope the machine isn't complicated. I also hope it has been serviced recently - I don't think I could take it if my underpants got stuck in yet another strange washer's rinse cycle and refused to come out.

The NZ guy that rents this room does have a good DVD collection though, and I'm tempted to borrow some to watch on my computer. I'm sure he wouldn't mind, but just as I'm about to grab one I wonder what would happen if a disc got jammed in my machine. How would I explain that? What if I broke it and my computer wiped the movie? In total lameness, I leave all the DVDs on their shelves - untouched, and where they belong.

Subletting is a weird way to live, I'll admit - but at the same time, I've met some nice people and managed to get to know the city a bit better (or at least experimented with new bus routes). It feels weird sleeping in a bed that's not yours, on sheets that aren't yours, hanging your clothes in a wardrobe that's not yours (and isn't entirely empty either). I desperately want to spin this guy's bed around so it faces the other way because I honestly think it would be more spacious but I don't do it because a) it's not my room and b) I couldn't be stuffed. Obviously.

From a financial standpoint though, subletting is a really good idea. The rent is cheap and most people are happy to pay their bills while they're away, so you don't have to. At Tube stations around the city this week I've seen billboards for some great art exhibitions and theatre shows that I really want to see, so having some discretionary dollars for those diversions is great. A subletting silver lining, if you will.

I've settled back into work well this week; it was almost like I never had a holiday at all. We've been busy, but we're all getting through it and counting down the hours until the weekend. The office Christmas tree got taken down yesterday too, and that's a sure sign that the silly season is over and it's back to real life again. So it's a deep breath and as the English like to say, "Keep Calm and Carry On".

New Year, New Town, New York

There is something really great about getting off a plane and knowing exactly where you're going. I love being able to stride past the jet-lagged masses to the luggage carousel, fetch my bag without smacking something with it (accidentally or on purpose), then exiting the airport terminal through the one door that takes you straight to the end of the taxi queue.

There are only three airports in the world that give me these experiences each time. The first is Adelaide Airport; in my home town, so of course familiarity reigns. Good coffee, great toilets, Coopers beer. Gold.

The second is Chicago’s O’Hare Airport. Sure it’s big, noisy and full of grabby TSA staff who give you an enthusiastic pat down, but at least they don’t give you a dirty-old-man grin as they do it. I love O’Hare for its cold beers, huge food court, and peaceful airport lounges. I also love the Chicago accent on the dude that does the voice overs to tell us that the transport safety rating is "o-range". No really, I love that.

And last, but by no means least, is La Guardia Airport in New York. I’ve only flown in and out of here a couple of times but already I've totally taken to it. The bars are sadly non-existent, but the souvenir shops are fabulous and the taxi guys like to laugh - which really helps when you're so jet-lagged that you hate everybody.

So you’ll appreciate the irony of how relaxed I was, when I landed at La Guardia on 31 December, arguably one of New York City's busiest party days of the year.

Breezing through the terminal to reclaim my baggage, I took my place at the end of the taxi queue and was ushered into a cab in a matter of minutes. Zooming towards the concrete jungle I chatted amiably with the taxi driver about the state of the city’s roads after the horrible blizzards. Sure enough snow was piled high along the sides of the roads – waiting until the next fleet of ploughs, or perhaps just a good drenching rain, could come along to clear them away.

On the day I arrived, K and her family were helping to strengthen the US economy at the outlet malls, so I let myself into her apartment and watched a couple of episodes of “Criminal Minds” – man, I love that show. When the family came home, we all got ready and had some pre-dinner drinks before heading out in the cold (but clear) night.

Dinner on New Year’s Eve was at a French restaurant called Millesime and it was just gorgeous. The follow-up Restaurant Review in the NY Times probably hasn’t hurt its reputation either (click here to read that). There were 10 of us at the table and I shared a lobster soufflé starter with K’s Mum and then enjoyed a tuna steak with a sauce vierge, plus a side order of potatoes cooked in duck fat (duh) as my main course. The duck fat tried to clog my arteries, but the tuna steak wouldn’t let it, so all in all it was a well-balanced meal. Sort of. Kate’s Dad took charge of ordering our dinner wines and they were so good. As with the rest of the silly season though, I totally over-indulged in the food and drink sensations, and basically put myself in a food coma by about 2am. In the midst of my blame spiral, I was cursing my enthusiasm for the punch-you-in-the-face red wine that Kate's Pa ordered - I think that's what finished me off.

The next day started with brunch and admittedly I was feeling pretty ill – though not as sick as K who had to go home from the brunch restaurant and sleep all day. Stupid gunky gems had invaded her and she looked and sounded pretty rotten. The rest of us stayed in the fresh air and headed into Bryant Park behind the New York Public Library (Breakfast @ Tiffany's moment, anyone?). We wanted to check out the little Holiday village they’d set up there and the outdoor skating rink that was still proving really popular. We then wandered in and out of stores on Fifth Avenue, peeked across the street at the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, then wound up back at the apartment. Nobody really had the energy to head out, so we stayed in and got pizza and watched Eddie Izzard DVDs. Loved it.

Time really does fly when you’re having fun and this holiday proved it. I awoke on 2 January feeling much better than I had the day before, and ready to face a great day. Rain had already started to fall, which basically declared it a Museum Day, but I didn’t mind a bit. While K’s parents explored flea markets on the other side of the city, we met up with PL at the Museum of the City of New York – incidentally the one museum in town that I’d actually been to already! Never one to resist a gift shop, I picked up a book about John Jacob Astor and his fantastically wealthy life. I haven’t started reading it yet but I can’t wait.

Later in the afternoon we called into a Mexican restaurant around the corner from K’s place and had a few too many margaritas but we needed to – how else to wash down the ultra spicy guacamole and salsa?!

Pouring myself back into a taxi, I bade farewell to P & K and headed for New York’s JFK airport – not my preferred option but as Mick Jagger said, “you can’t always get what you want”. The lovely dude at the British Airways counter let me board really early, so I was happily seated down the back of the plane with my book and music before the other yahoos came aboard. What followed was a full but happy flight, where I didn’t sleep a wink (again), but had a great time thinking back over the wonderful holiday that I’d had in the US cities – and airports – that I love.

See you soon, gang!