I briefly mentioned in yesterday's post that Caesar's Palace should come with a map. The hotel is confusing enough when you don't have anywhere important to be. But when you're running late to meet your 6am tour bus departure for the Grand Canyon, the last thing you need is to be lost in the never-ending corridors of a behemoth casino. And yet, that's exactly what happened to us at the start of Day 2.
When the alarm sounded at 4.15am that day, I think we all pretended it wasn't happening. But then we swung into action and got ready for an exciting day trip to the West Rim of the (literally) awesome Grand Canyon. This was a first for me too, so I was particularly excited. First time to Arizona; first time to the Grand Canyon. Bring it!
The elevator doors opened onto the Casino Floor and I was first struck by the acrid stench of cigarette smoke. When you live in New York, you become accustomed to a range of crazy smells, but fortunately cigarette smoke is not something I need to contend with indoors anymore. So in Vegas, that people were slumped at slot machines and chain-smoking at 5.45am on a Wednesday came as quite a rude (and smelly) shock; though perhaps it really shouldn't have.
We didn't have time to dwell on this though because we had a tour bus to meet at 6am, underneath the Planet Hollywood globe around the corner from our Hotel. An easy enough meeting point to find, you would think. But then you need to remember a few salient points: a) I am geographically-challenged at the best of times; b) we were all in a new and confusing place; and c) each one of us was substantially decaffeinated that day. We were seriously set up to lose.
After a bum steer from a "helpful" security guard, we ended up almost running through the splendor of the casino's Forum Shops before FINALLY emerging onto the Strip with no clear view of the Planet Hollywood globe that we needed to find. My watch said three minutes to six. Taking a wild guess, I turned right and broke out into a little jog up the hill. Did I think that higher ground would help me find the meeting point? Nope, I was just desperate at this point - for a comfy bus seat, for coffee, for not missing our chance to see the dusty plains of Arizona. As luck would have it, at the top of the hill I not only spotted the PH globe but also our tour bus - revving its engine and ready to go. At two minutes past six, we piled into our seats and set off. We were back on schedule.
Once we got off the Strip, Vegas turned into a very quiet town in the pre-dawn light. Our tour guide obviously didn't want to start yapping at us too early - so many of us were still asleep - so we all just gazed out the windows for a while and watched the world go by. Before long, we left Las Vegas behind and drove into small-town Nevada, headed for Arizona. The landscape changed and the roadside ceased to be about casinos and car dealerships, instead becoming covered in spiky and gnarly joshua trees and the anticipation of seeing a bighorn sheep, the state animal of Nevada. We didn't seen any of those though - boo to that!
The primary advantage of leaving Las Vegas at the ungodly hour of 6am is that your bus is the first - and usually only - one in the parking lot of all the tourist attractions on your visit schedule. You don't have to battle hordes of other visitors in gift shops, or jockey for positions to capture the perfect photograph. You have space, you have peace and you have quiet. It became clear to us quite quickly that getting up and out at the crack of dawn was the best thing we could have done that day. And the weather in Arizona was working for us too. Cool in the pre-dawn, but warming up to a bright and sunny day - perfect for some time in the great outdoors.
Our first stop after a quick roadside breakfast (provided by the tour) was the majestic Eagle Point, home of the Grand Canyon Skywalk. This area, indeed the whole Grand Canyon National Park, is home to the Hualapaiand because you're on their tribal lands, there are some restrictions to photos you can take. But there are representatives of the Hualapai Nation on-site to either take photos of you, or give you advice on what you're looking at over the huge expanse of mountains and valleys before you. We didn't go on the Skywalk, not because we're overly squeamish about heights or anything - it's just that we didn't like the idea of paying $100USD for photos of ourselves out there. You can't take your own photos, you see. The Hualapai take them and then charge you for them in the gift shop - it all seemed a bit steep and besides, our photos turned out OK after all. We did take the opportunity of browsing the amphitheatre, Native American housing, and gift shop instead though.
By now it was almost time for lunch so we piled back on the bus and continued through the Hualapai lands to the icky-named but beautifully scenic Guano Point. If you like, you can click here to view a gorgeous 360-degree photo of the spot and I think you'll agree that despite it's name, Guano Point is very impressive indeed. And the best advantage of the place is that there are no guard rails or security measures of any kind there. One false move and you plummet all the way to the bottom of the Canyon. But for uninterrupted photos of the amazing expanse, you cannot beat it. And our lunch was a very tasty meal of roast chicken and vegetables, and our table couldn't have come with a better view.
On the way back to Vegas the bus slowed down so we could take photos of Hoover Dam, but I'm not sure whether the pictures will turn out because we were still motoring along pretty fast. A great feat of human engineering to be sure but after the gorgeous nature we had been seeing all day, the Dam looked a bit ugly from where I was sitting. And as the neon madness of Vegas came into view over the horizon at about 5pm, we all had to steel ourselves to re-enter society.
Having seen the Forum Shops of Caesar's Palace in the early morning, it was quite a shock to be back there again and fighting the crowds for a good spot to watch the Fall of Atlantis show, ride curved escalators (true!) or find excellent espresso. So it was little wonder that we rounded out our long day by dashing across the street to hide out at Bally's casino, in a small Thai restaurant that offered delicious food and cocktails.
Thank heavens for this blog sometimes. My brain doesn't need to remember dates or details, because this handy little catalogue will do it for me. In February 2008 I went to Las Vegas for the first time. When my parents mentioned that on their trip to the US they also wanted to see The Town That Calls Itself Fabulous, all I had to do was drag out my blog entries from a few years ago and I had the inspiration for the start of an amazing three-day trip.
Day Fifteen, At Least It's Clean
If you wanted to analyse the Las Vegas trip properly, it didn't start off in particularly promising fashion. My parents had booked their NY-LAS flights MONTHS before I got my act together, so by the time I looked at airline tickets the costs to get me on the same flight as my parents were pretty ridiculous. It started to seem like we would not be able to fly to Las Vegas together after all. So I went to an online travel site and inputted my search criteria so that I could at least fly out of the same airport, on the same day, at around the same time.
How excited I was when the online site offered an option that fit the bill beautifully, so clickety-click, I purchased the ticket. It wasn't until the confirmation email arrived that I realised I'd booked my flights out of JFK airport and not Newark, like my parents. What the?! I hadn't chosen JFK airport as an option - I knew what airport I wanted to fly from, and I'd carefully selected Newark as part of my ticket search criteria. Why would an online travel site just automatically disregard my departure airport, just so it could find me the cheapest air ticket? Doesn't William Shatner know I don't read computer screens and I just obsessively press buttons? What is wrong with the universe?!
Sigh. So yeah, the trip to Vegas started out with yours truly ballsing up her airport departure.
On the actual day of travel though, none of this was any problem in the least. I booked two airport cars for us - one going to JFK, the other to Newark, and I made it to Las Vegas McCarran Airport about 30 minutes before my parents. I was waiting for them at baggage claim when they arrived. We were back on schedule.
When I came to Las Vegas in 2008 we stayed at The Bellagio. Now even back then I knew that that was an amazing and very special experience; one not likely to be repeated in my lifetime. And true enough when it came to booking this trip, the accommodation discount gods of the Bellagio were not smiling on me. So this time around, we stayed at the mammoth Caeasar's Palace Hotel. Our room was clean and well-appointed, about a kilometre from the elevators (through rabbit-warren hotel corridors) but at least we were well away from the mania of the 24-hour casino floor. Forget chocolates on your pillow - this place should come with complimentary valium. And a decent map. In equal measure, Caesar's Palace is enormous, confusing, smokey and incredible.
But hey, I'm honestly not bagging Caesar's because I totally chose to stay there. I wanted my parents to have an authentic Vegas experience. I wanted us to be in the thick of the action on the Strip, surrounded by noise and people and neon. I got all those things in spades.
Our first stop after dumping our bags was Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville. This is like my oasis of calm in Las Vegas and I cannot tell you how wonderful it was to sip on the pomegranate margarita and soak up the crazy atmosphere of the place. Even my Dad soldiered on, in no small part powered by the ultra-amazing Perfect Margarita (and its fabulous - and multiple - tequilas inside).
By the time we got back outside, evening had arrived and the pamphleteers were out. You know the ones I mean - they are shady looking guys and gals who pass out little pamphlets to male tourists on the Strip. These little pamphlets are actually catalogues of strippers and escorts that you can purchase to come to your hotel room and keep you company for a couple of hours. I had warned my Dad about the pamphleteers of course - so he knew what to expect. But in typical fashion, they fiercely descended upon him and flicked their pamphlets at him, left and right. To the wails of "come on, big maaaaaan", they tried to tempt him to purchase a lady or two for the evening. For me and Mum, watching Dad try to stay nonchalant and coolly navigate these very insistent PR men was most amusing.
Back at Caesar's, we lost a couple of dollars in the slot machines (just to say we did it) and then we were in bed super early, knowing that Day 2 of our Vegas Vacation would be a long one.
So this time tomorrow we'll be in Las Vegas and my parents will almost be on their way back to the motherland. Is our holiday really almost over? Sad face. But we are not depressed really. In fact, we were quite resolved today to make the most of Mum & Dad's almost-final hours in New York.
In fact, this morning we set off early-ish and headed to Houston St to Katz's Deli, the famous place where Sally had her heavy-breathing moment ("I'll have what she's having"). For a deli that opened in 1888, I seriously hope Katz's hasn't changed much about its menu or its food recipes. I like the idea that Katz's is totally old school and fabulous. Mind you, I had the pastrami on rye sandwich (naturally) but OMG, there was SO MUCH MEAT on that sandwich. My heart ended up being wrapped in pastrami. Is that even biologically sound? I'm not so sure. But fortunately we got to the deli about 30 minutes before the huge crowds showed up - perfect.
When we left, we took the subway to Brooklyn Bridge and wandered through that neighbourhood down to South Street Seaport. It's weird being here in the cold weather - when the beer garden is shut, and the ice cream stores are all closed too. It's like a ghost town, except the sheer array of souvenir shops and trinket outlets is quite staggering. Anything that they can slap an "I heart NY" logo on, they will. Mouse pads, tshirts, baseball caps - crazy.
After the Seaport, we caught the East River Ferry back to my place and rested for a bit, before having dinner at El Parador for some lovely Mexican food. Roast duck enchiladas? Uh, si senor! Yummo.
Now of course I have to pack for the next three days in Sin City. We're staying at Caesar's Palace (so we could have the full-on Las Vegas experience). I'm so excited to be back in the land of the velour tracksuit. Naturally I'll be a bit quiet on the blog for the next few days, but you can count on a pretty fun recap when I return. Stay tuned!
You can step outside my apartment building, look west up the street, and see the Empire State Building staring at you. So how is it that we've made it to Day 13 of this holiday and I still haven't taken my parents up to the ESB's Observation Deck?! It's crazy, I know. And yet on Day 1 of the New Year, we just had no time.
Our day started - yep, you guessed it - early; but that was because we knew we wanted to have brunch at Red Rooster, way up north from me in Harlem. On Sundays, and indeed yesterday, Red Rooster was offering its famous Gospel brunch, and I was resolved to be early for it. Southern food and a gospel music? I'm totally there.
So on a whim, just before we left the house, I thought I'd just look up the restaurant online again to double-check the service times for brunch. Noon till three pm. What the?! I was sure the website said 10am when I'd checked earlier. Oh man. I'd dragged my parents out of bed at the crack of dawn for nothing! We could all have had an extra 90 minutes' sleep, no problems. ARGH. How to confess this?
I took the Band-Aid approach and just all-out fessed up to the error. Mum & Dad were totally cool with it, and actually liked the idea of just going somewhere local for coffee first. Phew. As we left my house, a "flashy bus" was pulling into the bus stop by my house so we jumped on it. Early as it was, the streets of Manhattan looked like a ghost town yesterday morning. It was at this point I questioned what coffee shops might exactly be open at this time on New Year's Day. Hmm, my holiday planning was starting to get sloppy. I could see people walking the streets with Dunkin' Donuts coffee but that was definitely going to be a last resort for us.
When Culture Espresso turned out to be closed (sad face), we took a chance on Bryant Park and sure enough - like the very Holy Grail itself - the park was a hive of activity. Aroma Coffee delivered the goods and we sat on folding chairs, right up by the rink, to watch HEAPS of people start the new year whirling around on ice skates.
After a little while we figured it would be a good time to head up to the restaurant for brunch. The subway ride up to Harlem (125th St) took off from Times Square, which was not far from where we had paused to enjoy coffees.
Now you're probably thinking, Red Rooster?Why the hell would you want to have brunch at a Red Rooster?! Well, this place is not like any Red Rooster we get back home. No six-pack fried chicken and moist towelettes here, friends. If you didn't already do so before, click the link here and check out the restaurant for yourself. The restaurant is gorgeous - and not too large (though the downstairs events space - with ENORMOUS dance floor - would be lots of fun). The chef is Marcus Samuelsson, a Swedish Ethiopian chef with restaurants dotted around the US and one in Stockholm. And the food? Oh man. It's comfort all the way.
As the lone gospel singer wandered the restaurant with her hand-held mic, belting out prayerful tunes, we all stuffed in some delicious brunch. I had the burger (it came with truffle fries - I was powerless to resist), while Mum had the lamb & potato hash, and Dad had the scrambled eggs with onion & chorizo. Some cornbread to start and a glass of prosecco to wash it all down? Delicious.
Tummies full we bade the restaurant farewell and caught the train back Downtown, so we could wander around the main concourse of Grand Central Station. In terms of size, this place is very impressive but I'm still a bigger fan of Washington DC's Union Station I think. But there is no denying that Grand Central is a terribly well-used and very popular tourist attraction in NYC and affords some very good photo opportunities, if you can manage to capture the immensity of the place.
By this point in the day, we were ready to slow down and take it easy. So we went back to the apartment and chilled out for a few hours before ending our day with a screening of "We Bought A Zoo". The movie was adorable to be sure, yet I waited 2 hours to see Matt Damon shirtless and my patience was sadly unrewarded. Not even Matt Damon in a singlet! I got Matt Damon in a turtleneck and reading glasses - and Matt Damon in khakis and a tool belt, so perhaps I shouldn't be complaining. In fact, who are we kidding? I'll totally take that. With a side of truffle fries.
The final day of 2011 was another early one for me. I took myself off to the gym for the first time in ages and admittedly I didn't do very well. According to my training calendar, I'm supposed to be clocking up 4-5 mile jogs but I just wasn't up to it yesterday. I did last for a little over 2 miles on the treadmill before giving up, cursing my ankles for feeling sore. As penance I did about 6 more miles on the exercise bike, but I still felt a bit disappointed in myself afterwards. Have I already forgotten just how far I walked in Washington?! Crazy.
Setting off from my place on foot, we walked to my favourite Eataly for a proper Italian coffee. It is crazy how amazing that place looks and smells. Sliced meats, fresh cheeses, and the pastries?! Oh man.
We continued the gourmet adventure by heading up to Zabar's and again, we loved the sights and smells. We even loved the ancient men and women, pushing their trollies around the aisles to buy their delicious produce. Perhaps it was best that we weren't heading back home straight away, otherwise I think we would have loaded up our arms with outrageous quantities of epicurean delights. Instead we restricted ourselves to a couple of pre-made sandwiches, some tasty chocolate rugelach and some fresh fruit for our lunch. And we walked a couple of blocks south to Central Park and enjoyed our meal in the sunshine at Bethesda Terrace. So good.
Watching the outdoor skaters scoot around the iconic Wollman Rink, we then stopped by The Plaza Hotel, the sterling silver jewellery collection of Tiffany's and then tried to hide from the world (aka the tourists) at St. Patrick's Cathedral. I am sure God Himself was about to strike me dead for all the evil thoughts I was having about the other tourists in church yesterday. Why do people come into places like that if they refuse to be quiet or reverent in any way? Why do they think they're allowed to help themselves to devotional candles and not pay even a minimal donation? Why can't I give the death glare to people and not have it do any good? No fair.
Clearly I had hit an invisible wall by this point in the day, so the fact that a taxi showed up out the front of the Cathedral must have been a sign from the Almighty after all. The three of us headed straight to the cinema around the corner from my house, and we relaxed in the dark watching the new "Sherlock Holmes" movie, and then the latest offering from the "Mission Impossible" franchise. No life-changers there, but when we came home and ordered take-away Indian food, it capped off a beautiful evening and the perfect way to spend New Year's Eve when you're really not a NYE kind of person.
Continuing my fine tradition, my head hit the pillow at about four minutes past midnight and I didn't feel a thing. I must have been asleep or something :)
You know it's a good holiday when you start losing track of days. But today is January 1st, which means a hearty HAPPY NEW YEAR to all. But more on that later. First up, we need to recap our little side trip to the nation's capital - Washington, DC.
Make a coffee before you start reading. This recap is likely to take a while.
Day Eight, Don't Be Late
I have been a bit silly, dragging my poor parents out of bed early while they're supposed to be on a restful tour to the States. But you know what? If we sleep in every day, we miss out on seeing lots of cool things and then we only achieve half the things we set out to do.
So it was that we rocked up at Penn Station, New York bright and early on December 27 to catch the train to Washington. I had already bought our tickets ahead of time, and put us in business class on a regional train. We could have got express train tickets but that train left even earlier in the morning and I really don't think we could have faced that. As it was, the regional train stopped at only a few places but it gave us a lovely chance to peer out the windows at towns along the route. Plus we've only got little legs, so there was ample leg room and comfort for us in business class, thanks very much. And we were two carriages away from the cafe car, so what's not to like about that?!
You know it's funny - if the only thing you ever see of Philadelphia and Baltimore is what you spot from the inside of a train, I don't think you'd ever go there. The towns look pretty grotty and not too welcoming really. And yet I'm sure I've heard good things said about both places. Maybe one day....
Our train pulled into Washington DC's gorgeous Union Station about 15 minutes behind schedule, and the weather had turned pretty rotten. Grey skies, drizzle - not a good start to a mini-break. Our taxi driver was a Pakistani ex-diplomat who, as he drove us to our hotel, regaled us with stories about the fantastic postings he'd had throughout his career and how he's now only driving a cab to pay for his son's university education. He does pretty well out of it too - with all the additional cab fares we had to pay (extra passengers, luggage, mileage), he'd charged us $10 before we'd even set off for the hotel! Classic.
Before long we pulled up at our hotel and I was very impressed with the location and amenities. We were right across the street from the Spy Museum, around the corner from Chinatown and one block from the Metro station. Perfect!
With the weather like it was, I have to confess that we really didn't want to pound the pavement and start exploring the city. So we dashed across the street and sought refuge in the truly beautiful (and IMMENSE) National Portrait Gallery. Even if museums and galleries aren't normally your "thing", this place is amazing. Endless corridors filled with amazing - and very different - works of art. Portraits of ordinary and famous Americans filled the walls and we happily lost hours in there. When we couldn't walk any further, we paused for a coffee in the indoor Kogod Courtyard which is just gorgeous. Me being me, I flatly refused to leave until I had seen The Great Hall - and me being me, I couldn't find it; even though I had the map. Absolutely hopeless. But it's amazing what happens when you ask for help and in no time we were ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the gorgeous mosaic tiles and stained glass windows of the room I'd been searching for.
Obeying our sore feet and rumbling tummies, we ducked around the corner into Chinatown for a really tasty meal and frosty Singha beer.
I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow that night.
Day Nine, Feelin' Fine
It was about this time in the holiday that I realised that wearing knee-high leather boots was probably a really dumb idea. So on Day 2 of our holiday, when we did more walking than would ever be considered normal elsewhere, I switched to sneakers and was pretty proud of myself for remembering to pack them.
We had 2pm tickets for the tour of the Capitol Building (but had to be there 45 minutes before that), so we really didn't want to venture too far out of the city.
Grabbing an extra strong coffee as we wandered the streets, we walked past the gorgeous Ford's Theatre, where President Lincoln was assassinated. Then we wandered past more truly gorgeous architecture - the IRS building, the EPA building, and the expansive museums of Constitution Avenue.
By then we had agreed that our aimless wandering should take us to the Washington Monument, so we headed across the parklands and over to the enormous obelisk. The Monument is still temporarily closed because of the 5.9 magnitude earthquake in 2011, but it is still possible to take some great photographs of it - which we did.
Then we looked across Constitution Gardens towards the Lincoln Memorial, and we agreed to walk over to there next. En route we looked at The National WWII Memorial and watched construction workers make long-overdue improvements to the Reflecting Pool site.
There is something amazing about standing at the Lincoln Memorial, at the foot of the mammoth statue and seeing what the late President sees - the wonderful view over an amazing city. From our lofty vantage point we could trace our route backwards, as well as see the day's ultimate destination - the Capitol Building.
So we were off - back along the other side of the Reflecting Pool, stopping this time at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial - the loss of life truly scary when you see just how many names are etched into the memorial stones (58,195).
Ducking around The Elipse, we gave ourselves a fantastic photo opportunity of the front lawn of The White House. Sadly no tours at this time of year, but I hope to get back another time. You don't watch as much "West Wing" as I do, and not have a curious interest in touring the amazing building.
With no time for lunch, we got to The U.S Capitol Building a few minutes before 2pm and lined up for our tour. After a short introductory video, our tour guide took us through some of the main rooms, including the gorgeous rotunda (Dan Brown's "The Lost Symbol", anyone?!). We walked into the statuary, which used to be the original House Chamber and offices. You can see plaques on the ground where famous politicians used to have their spots (incidentally we were almost standing on top of Lincoln's plaque without even realising it!).
At the conclusion of our tour we took ourselves through today's House and Senate galleries. Even though the pollies were on a holiday break, it was very impressive to look around the chambers and see where all the political magic happens. The information brochures that you can pick up for free are also really good - they give you a seating plan so that from up on high, you know who's who in the zoo.
After this we were tired, hungry and over stimulated, culture-wise. And yet we thought it would be a good idea to take the underground tunnel to the Library of Congress, so that's exactly what did. I have to say, I don't regret it in the least. You know me and books - I can scarcely resist a library or a bookshop to save myself. The website may be plain, but the building itself is spectacular, which says nothing of its contents. The Reading Room alone made me wish I was someone of importance, who had access to the incredible collection. To browse those shelves, even for a few minutes, would be such a gift. Naturally we are plebs, so we had to observe the Reading Room from up on high, behind a giant perspex sneeze barrier. But I took a sideways glance at some of my fellow tourists that day, and I don't blame the Library for a second - I wouldn't let any of those weirdos near my precious books either.
Having toured the Library, we were now OFFICIALLY knackered. We called in to the McCormick & Schmick's restaurant across the street for dinner that night. It was my pick, and I didn't have it in me to be any more creative than that. The seafood was pretty good though - but in a case of lovely deja-vu, I was asleep before my head hit the pillow that night too.
Day Ten, An Early Start Again
On Thursday we were up early again. After all the walking we'd done the day before, my feet were feeling so tender on Day 3, and so sneakers were totally the only option again.
More confident of our geography this time, we headed straight to the Metro station and after a change at Metro Center, we took the blue line subway to Arlington National Cemetery.
There is something quite lovely about a visit to a sombre place like Arlington, when you have the weather to match. I recall we had the same experience at the 9/11 Memorial in New York. For us at Arlington, we had a bit of fog, a bit of grey sky and the threat of rain, but nothing that actually materialised. The weather just added to the atmosphere and it was beautiful. I came to Arlington on my first (and only) visit to Washington DC back in February 2006 and I remember being really impressed then. Rather than taking the trolley car, we walked around the Cemetery this time and it really is a great (and easy) way to see everything. We visited the very simple Kennedy graves, Arlington House (aka the Robert E. Lee Memorial) and the Tomb of the Unknown Solider for the impressive - and rather haunting - Changing of the Guard ceremony that takes place every hour, on the hour. I wouldn't normally sanction the recording of such a lovely ceremony but given that the crowd prevented me from seeing much of it on the day, I don't feel too bad about sharing this video with you.
Once we'd done those things, we wandered back through the Cemetery to the main visitor entrance and then we were back on the Metro, returning to DC.
It would also seem we had not quite reached our limit of museums, because we devoted the next four hours to The National Museum of American History. My God, the people!! Tourists everywhere you looked - and who brings kids in strollers to these sorts of places? ARGH it was manic. But we steeled ourselves ("elbows out") and used the museum floorplan to ensure we hit up all the key attractions. We saw Julia Child's kitchen, Dorothy's ruby slippers, the Star Spangled Banner, the original Muppets and finished up by going though a couple of the ongoing exhibitions, including the First Ladies (evening gowns! fine china!) and Within These Walls, a wonderful exploration of the life of 1 house and all the families that had inhabited it over the past 200 years.
Were we exhausted after that? You bet. But did we stop? Hell no.
Wandering next door we stopped into the National Museum of Natural History. The life-size whale hanging from the ceiling, and the gorgeous elephant in the main rotunda were real highlights. But aside from that, and the mammals exhibit (impressive), I was in a daze from this point of the evening forward. The groovy neon inflatable artwork woke me up a bit of course, but I was pretty much done.
So it surprised us all that once we were out in the open air, we had enough energy to walk past the statue garden and watch the outdoor ice skaters for a while. But then our stomachs won out and we set off in search of dinner. All we wanted to have was a bowl of soup, and yet when we stumbled across Hill Country Barbecue Market, we had to go in. And so it also goes without saying that with BBQ ribs, mac & cheese, and brisket on offer, there was no way we were having just soup. The live band started up downstairs at 8.30pm and we enjoyed a couple of tunes (I was quite transfixed by the lead singer's fluffy red afro, to be honest. It was like a car accident atop his head, poor fellow).
It's amazing how a pitcher of beer, a good feed, and some happy tunes will restore a couple of weary travellers.
But yes, you guessed it - I was asleep before my head hit the pillow AGAIN. Third time's the charm.
Day Eleven, and a lack of a rhyme
The start of our 11th day was another early one because we had to contend with a hotel check-out, an Amtrak train departure and (in my case), a swabbing from the transit police for illicit drugs and other contraband. Fortunately I had enjoyed a rather strong coffee before that part!
We got the train back to NY without incident, and arrived in the City on a sunny and clear day. Is this December or what?! Winter be hanged.
Say what you will about how lovely holidays can be, sometimes there is just no place like home. And getting back to the apartment and swapping my sneakers for slippers never felt so good.
We did a couple of loads of laundry and then headed out to Times Square (ugh!) to meet B&C for dinner at Sardi's. Despite the traffic and pedestrian chaos, the restaurant was really nice and of course I couldn't fault the company. B&C had only been in New York a few days but had already seen most of the major sights and seemed to be enjoying themselves (though B did bemoan the lack of quality coffee - a kindred spirit if ever there was one).
After dinner we pretty much RAN to the theater to see"Million Dollar Quartet"and it was fantastic. Skilley is my friend from work and she joined us for the performance - we had fantastic seats, only a few rows from the front - and no one in front of us to block our view at all. The story is fantastic - capturing the music of the recording session at Sun Studio in Memphis, when Jerry Lee Lewis joined up with Elvis Presley, Carl Perkins and Johnny Cash. The whole cast was just amazing, and was a nice flashback to my own visit to Memphis when me & K toured Sun Studios and stood in the very room where the music magic happened. I think I might have to be friends with the entire cast of that show - I just loved it, and I think we all did.
After the show we said goodbye to Skilley and walked B&C back towards their hotel, stopping off for a quick coffee & catch-up chat along the way. It was great to see them and I was very envious to hear about the rest of their US trip, including a visit to New Orleans. Lucky ducks!
If anyone ever asks you what the very bowels of hell look like, you might consider directing them to the Boxing Day sales at Macy's in New York. I figure that place would come pretty close and I should know - I spent a bit of time in there today. On the upside, I did get to ride the iconic wooden escalators that were the first of their kind in the world, and part of the original Macy's fit-out. They're still in use today - very groovy. And my wallet stayed in my bag the entire trip around the store - can you believe that?!
When we finally emerged back onto Seventh Avenue, we sought refuge at the curiously-named Irish pub, The Pig N Whistle for a restorative drink and bite to eat. Yucky fries but cold Diet Coke, so one out of two ain't bad.
Then it was back underground to take the subway to Chelsea Market, the cool shopping place on 9th Avenue. I like the big push towards local and organic foodstuffs at this place, so it stood to reason we would stuff in a coffee from Ronnybrook Dairy and then I followed my nose to the Tuck Shop to purchase some delicious (and authentic) Aussie meat pies for dinner. The smell of warm pies wafted through the food market area. How could we resist?
Off we continued back along 14th Street in the direction of our bus home, stopping long enough in Union Square to browse around DSW, Filene's Basement (which is about to close down anyway), and finally we ended up at Nordstrom Rack. Phew - it was a retail bonanza!
After the long day out and about, it felt excellent to finally sit still on the bus and know that in a few short minutes, I'd be able to sit on the sofa with my fluffy slippers on. Blissful.
We're off to Washington DC tomorrow, so my daily holiday updates will be on a brief hiatus. But don't worry - a bumper catchup post will follow. Stay tuned!
Christmas morning started with a sleep-in. Doesn't that sound fabulous already? Well to be honest, the day didn't end up any more stressful than that.
We all got up, had some coffee, swapped excellent gifts and generally just relaxed. I was very lucky this year - I got some great new bedroom sheet/quilt sets; some earrings; creative dice; groovy boot stockings; a couple of recipe books; some throw pillows; and a fun new Manhattan skyline sticky decal for my laptop.
Then I put on a lunch of roast pork loin & vegetables, with an apple crisp and ice cream for dessert. No muss, no fuss. A food coma swiftly ensued, punctuated only by loads of laundry. I wore my paper Christmas hat the whole day. Mum said I looked like the Statue of Liberty. I had to admit she was right.
A little after 6pm we all took a cab to The Australian pub, to meet up with K&N and watch a bit of the start of the Boxing Day Test, televised from Melbourne. I can't say I watched much of the cricket, but it was excellent to see K&N again on their latest visit to New York. Plus there isn't much stress that creeps in when you're holed up in a booth while the rest of the pub patrons have to jostle for bar service. Blissful! That said though, two Coopers Pales down (along with some sliders & a VERY intense chocolate brownie) and I was tired and needed to head home for pyjama time. What a day!
Christmas Eve was a clear but cold day here in New York and we set off around lunch time, bound for an Off-Broadway show called Voca People. The theatre was really quite full - except for our row, which was dead empty except for me and the folks. People are so creative, you know? The Voca People perform using just their voices - no instruments, no nothing. Naturally they are helped along by one of them being the beatbox champion of Portugal, so his voice was providing the percussive sound and background beats. I was on the edge of my seat for the whole performance (much to the enjoyment of my Mum) but I was having a great time. The breadth of the music used in the show ranged from classical stuff like the William Tell Overture, all the way through to the theme music from "ET" and modern day stuff - so good. There was audience participation too - which I normally hate - but because they only picked on people in the first two rows of the theatre (and not us, way down the back), I was pretty cool with it. I was really pleased that some of the audience members were really good sports too - they got into the spirit of the show and made it really funny for the rest of us.
After lunch we grabbed a cab over to Bloomgindale's, where I honestly thought I was going to freak out. So many people - so many shoppers, little dogs, fragrance people - ugh it was all going on yesterday. Totally reinforced why I love online shopping so much. But I have to say, going through those designer departments and feeling the soft and snuggly cashmere clothes and rich fabrics; mmm, it was sensory overload, but in a good way for sure. I also kept my wallet in my handbag too, so well done me!
From Bloomies we walked the few blocks past Tiffany's (and their gorgeous window displays) to The Russian Tea Room for dinner. I had made the booking for dinner with the Russians because they were offering a really tasty prix-fixe, post-theater menu that I thought we'd all enjoy. The three of us were safely closeted into a red leather banquette/booth and from our vantage point we had a really lovely view of the dining room. That early in the evening, things weren't really swinging, but I got the feeling the wait staff were steeling themselves for a pretty busy night. I had really the tasty borscht to start, then a main course of beef stroganoff and for dessert I had the chocolate pyramid. Washed down with a cosmopolitan (or a cosmonaut, in this place) and a glass of Australian red wine and I was a very happy girl. The Russian Tea Room's gift shop downstairs is a bit crappy unfortunately - just several glass cases full of really expensive kitschy things like babushka dolls and linens and jewellery boxes and stuff like that. Nothing that interested us at all, but it was nice to at least look and see what they had.
Upstairs in the cold air again, we were weighing up our transport options on how to get back to my hood when lo and behold, a cab pulled up right in front of us to let its passengers out. It was a Christmas miracle! So we bounded on in and took a ride to the Moonstruck Diner on Madison, for a couple of coffees before we had to be at Christmas mass. As diners go, Moonstruck won't change your life but it was so nice and warm in there - and the peppermint teas were hot and tasty after our long day out; we just loved it.
A little before 10pm we walked back to the Church of Our Saviour, a Catholic church at the corner of E38th St & Park Avenue. I had never been inside but we'd checked ahead of time and knew that the church would be having 2 Christmas services that night - a carol singing with the choir at 10.30pm followed by a Christmas mass at 11pm. The Church itself is beautiful, and I remember saying to Dad it was such a shame that their website was so plain - it doesn't do the building itself any favours at all. The church really resembles a portion of a European basilica - gorgeous tiled floors, gilded ceilings and huge almost orthodox paintings with gold leafing all over the place. So lovely and sparkly and everywhere you looked, there was something new to see. The choir did a lovely job at setting the scene for Christmas and once the candles were lit, and the parishoners were seated we were ready to go.
The carols were lovely and traditional and then at 11pm the Christmas service started. It was like going back in time! With the exception of some of the prayers and the homily, the mass was entirely in Latin. Can you believe it? The music started and I recognised the tune of "O, Come All Ye Faithful". I was all ready to warble along and next thing I know, the congregation starts singing "Adeste Fidelis". I scrambled to find the Latin translation in the hymn book on my seat but I only found it as we got to the third verse. Typical. The same thing happened with "Silent Night", only that we sang that in German. It was such a mixed bag! I was confused throughout pretty much the entire mass, but at the same time it was really beautiful and a lovely treat. For Mum & Dad I figured the Latin mass must have been a bit of a flashback to when they were at school; indeed, they said it had been AGES since they'd heard a mass in Latin. As we filed out of the Church just after midnight, I felt pretty sure that we had all had a good time.
The walk home from the church really woke us all up - that fresh, cool air was a marked change from the populated, snuggly church. But even though the city streets were far from quiet, it sure was a beautiful way to start Christmas Day 2011.
I had every intention of going to the gym this morning, but you know these things go. No sooner had I made the pledge to myself, than I instead decided to accompany Mum & Dad on the bus down to Battery Park, so they could take the ferry to Liberty Island and Ellis Island. Having been to both of these places multiple times myself, I only played bus chaperone and then hung out on the mainland on my own while they toured around.
Arriving around 11am at Battery Park meant that we were just in time for recess, or play lunch, or whatever you grew up calling it. So we bought some ultra strong coffees and some tasty apple-filled churros from a street vendor. Delicious, if not at all nutritious. Naturally I went back for a caramel-filled churro later (for research purposes). With Mum & Dad safely on the boat, I wandered off to see what mischief I could cause.
Across the street from Battery Park is the National Museum of the American Indian, and I'd never been there before. But it was warm inside, and it didn't cost me anything to go in, so I hung out there for about 90 minutes and checked out the exhibitions. The Museum is actually in the old US Customs House and the building's architecture is beautiful, including the gorgeous statues and the beautiful murals in the rotunda. When I bought Mum & Dad back into the Museum later in the day (after the cruise that they very much enjoyed), we all commented on the real similarities between the demise of indigenous cultures around the world. Of course this included some discussion about Australia and it was interesting to also read some of the stories of how native peoples from the US, Canada, South America and even the Arctic had to adjust to the arrival of white people. The parallels between the stories make for quite a powerful tale all told - and not really a pretty one, to be honest. I thought the Museum presented a very comprehensive collection with some great photos, artefacts and some really intricate costumes and jewellery too. Naturally I purchased some treats from the gift shop, including a gorgeous three-legged pig for my mum. Chilean legend has it that the cute little chanchitos are supposed to bring good luck, so I thought Mum would particularly like to keep him at work so he can grin up at her.
The weather down by the water was particularly chilly today, so we thought it wise to come out of the Museum and head straight for the street vendor settling Italian sausage sandwiches with grilled onions and peppers (capsicum). Obviously. Well, actually I dragged Mum & Dad there - I was starving! The sandwiches really hit the spot, even though I bit into the sandwich quite forcefully and got BBQ sauce up my nose. Even that couldn't dampen the culinary experience.
After an hour or so back at home we were up and out of the house, to enjoy a pre-Christmas dinner with K at Rolf's, the German restaurant that is a New York institution. Throughout the year, Rolf's goes all out to decorate the restaurant with all manner of tacky, kitschy decorations. At this time of year, it is quite honestly like dining inside a Christmas decoration. Just see for yourself - and let me assure you, while I did not make this video, it is pretty much on the money for how the restaurant looked tonight:
Sigh, that video makes me so happy. But seriously - everywhere we looked, there were baubles and creepy dolls and Santas in sleighs and bundt cake pans (random!) and every manner of ribbon and fairy light and it was AMAZING. The pork chop I had was bigger than my head, but I washed it down with a German beer and then really wanted to lay down. It was a case of total sensory overload, but I wouldn't have had it any other way!
We stopped off for an Aussie beer on the walk home, but now I'm back here in my PJs and feeling totally in the Christmas spirit. Tomorrow is December 24 and another big day, but I have so far loved every minute of this yuletide celebration and I'm ready to see what's next.
I am now officially on holidays until Monday 9 January and baby, it feels gooood. It was all a bit surreal at work today though, tying up those loose ends and trying to achieve things before the home time buzzer sounded.
I think I was looking forward to home time more than most today, because after work I had a "mummy and me" date at Lincoln Center (for the Performing Arts), to see the NYC Ballet's production of George Balanchine's "The Nutcracker". I have been to the ballet a couple of times before, with mixed results. But I was pretty confident that tonight's performance was going to be a winner. And it totally was.
Firstly the night rocked because our seats were awesome. We were up high (third tier) in the David H. Koch Theater, but I had deliberately selected those seats because I knew the stage was full of exciting action and costumes, and I wanted me and Mum to be able to fully appreciate the spectacle. So from our lofty heights we had front row seats - a truly uninterrupted view of the whole stage. And no heads of fidgety kids to peek over!
Also from our seats up high we had a perfect view of the very talented orchestra. When the lights went down and Tchaikovsky's score started up, I loved it. Little by little the stage came to life - adorable children, stunning costumes, and a story that was so simple to follow that you could just lose yourself and soak up all the talent and glamour. At least that's what I did anyway.
And the sparkles on the costumes! Granted they weren't as flashy as The Rockettes sequinned duds, but what girl doesn't love a gorgeous pink tutu? And one dress weighed 80 pounds (according to the program) - the athleticism of all the dances was obvious. But at the same time, the elegant snowflakes that danced across the stage were so beautiful and graceful. I guess being so far away, I couldn't see if the performers were puffing or were exhausted. From where we were sitting, they kept up the illusion that they could dance forever.
After the show finished, we wandered out into the mild evening air and just walked for a bit, in the direction of our subway home. Again, we got back just before the rain started to fall (we seem to be making quite a habit of that), but even now - hours later - I can still see the sugarplums dancing in my head.
Dare I suggest this might become one of my NYC Christmas traditions?
I am glad that my parents have been sleeping well at my apartment, and it seems that their jetlag is subsiding. It’s a good thing too because I have set them a fairly cracking pace this week.
For Day 2 of our Griswold Family Vacation, my parents started a three-day, hop-on/hop-off bus tour through the city streets. As they tell it, their tour guide was really fun (and funny), and their full bus took them up Uptown yesterday – through Harlem and past Columbia University, then back past Central Park, Columbus Circle, Trump Tower and back into Times Square. They will tackle Downtown over the coming days, but they seemed content yesterday just to stay on board the bus and enjoy the sights. The weather was a bit rotten yesterday too – not icy cold, but grey and rainy (i.e. perfect conditions for snuggling up under a perspex bus canopy and just coasting along).
Right on time, I met my parents in the lobby of my office building after work and we walked the ten blocks to 21 Club. I first heard of this place ages ago (and saw it in such films as “One Fine Day” – where Michelle Pfeiffer’s character reluctantly goes to meet her clients and almost misses her son’s soccer game). Then most recently I saw 21 Club featured on a TV show on the cooking channel, and I knew I wanted to take Mum & Dad there. Any place with a speakeasy-style wine cellar is a place we have to see. Anyway as we approached the restaurant, we could see the famous fibreglass jockeyslined up along the outdoor railing – it really is a peculiar looking place. I hate describing things as “cute”, but that’s the best adjective for this place’s exterior. I had reserved our table in the Bar Room, a very popular (crowded) room with a remarkably low ceiling, made even more compressed by the trinkets hanging from the ceiling. I’m talking toy trucks, pipes, vintage toys and a bunch of other paraphernalia. I couldn’t remember from the TV show why all that stuff was up on the ceiling, and unfortunately there isn’t any reading material at the Club to tell you what it’s all about either. But I looked it up online this morning and discovered a helpful explanation of the collection.
We enjoyed a delicious three-course, prix fixe meal in the crowded dining room and then walked around the corner for the second half of the evening’s entertainment; the iconic Radio City Christmas Spectacular.
Radio City Music Hall opened in 1932 and a year later, The Radio City Christmas Spectacular (and the famous high-kicking Rockettes) debuted. The show was revamped this year to incorporate 3D film elements, and the modern touches certainly appealed to the young kids in the audience. The show started with a school choir performing some Christmas tunes – and one little kid who was obviously channelling Michael Jackson, grooving to the beat of his own drum up there on the stage. Adorable.
The Radio City Christmas Spectacular is a cheesy show but it is a New York City Christmas tradition and is pretty impressive. The athleticism of the dancers, their gorgeous sequinned costumes and amazing choreography really added to the experience. I loved the show – and I wanted to go home and insist that K enters and leaves every room like a Rockette from now on – high kicking, cheesy grins and all.
After the show, we walked around the corner to Rockefeller Plaza so I could show Mum & Dad the big Christmas tree, and the ice skating rink. Whether she realised it or not, Mum gasped when she saw the giant (real) tree with all of its sparkly lights. Not surprising really - the tradition of the giant tree in the Plaza began in 1933, the same year that the Centre opened. Ever since it has been a huge tourist drawcard and a symbol of Christmas in the city. We managed to get some pretty good photos of the decorations too, and we will go back a few more times before they leave, to appreciate the display in more detail.
Speeding home in a cab, we walked through the door about 5 minutes before the heavens opened and dumped some pretty fierce rain on the city streets. How’s that for timing?! I know that some more rain is forecast this week, and Christmas Day is supposed to be a bit grey and dreary. It would be nice if we could just get some snow – even just a couple of flakes – so we can have the White Christmas that we have all been hoping for, but I’m just not sure that’s going to happen. We’ll be in Washington DC from 27-30 December though. Maybe the nation’s capital will deliver the goods?
So I probably should have stopped at one beer. Enough said, right? Oi vey. And I am quite prepared to hang my father out to dry for my condition this morning. I’d lay some on Mum too, but she was way too jet-lagged yesterday to be any influence whatsoever. So Special K, it’s all on you fella! The old grey mare, she ain’t what she used to be.
Ugh but let’s forget how I feel this morning, just for a second. I would like to pause and declare that Day 1 of our Griswold Christmas Vacation was fantastic, at least as far as I am concerned.
Yesterday morning was a rude shock to my system. Owing to a missed connection in LA, the family vacation got off to a delayed start. But at 12.45am, I discerned the sleepy forms of my parents coming down the escalators into the Arrivals Hall at JFK’s Terminal 3. Hooray, they made it! Our taxi broke the land speed record back to my apartment and we chatted over raisin toast and restorative hot tea, before we decided that 2.30am was probably a good time to go to bed (especially since I had to work on Tuesday). Yikes!
I did indeed make it into the office yesterday morning, albeit a little late. While my parents slept off some more of their jet-lag, I tootled around the office grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Even the lady at the coffee shop in the morning asked me why I was so happy. It was just one of those days for me.
At 1pm, I went down to the UN and met my parents, so I could give them the behind-the-scenes tour. I didn’t even know until a few weeks ago (when Coco & CS came to visit) that I was allowed to conduct these all-access-pass visits. But now that I know, it’s totally on. The parents loved the tour through the UN, even though I did a terrible job at pointing out key points of interest (eg. “This is the Security Council chamber. It is big and it has lots of chairs in it. Oh look, there’s a tapestry!”). It was quite a nice day though, so we took the opportunity to walk behind the UN buildings along the East River. My Dad got quite excited when he saw a squirrel going about its business in the trees outside the UN. For vermin, it was indeed a cute squirrel; fair play to my father on that front.
As far as rallying goes, my parents did a wonderful job yesterday. After the UN tour, we walked back to my office and they continued on to browse the Christmas market at Bryant Park. I got a call from Dad some time later to say that they’d walked back to my apartment to collect his coat, and then they came back to my office to meet me at 5.30pm, like we’d planned. So for two people, brand new to New York and as jetlagged as all hell, they walked 4.2 miles just in the afternoon. Can you believe that?
When we caught up at my office last night, we took the subway to the 9/11 Memorialand had a look around there. The drizzly rain had started to fall, which was a bit disappointing, but Dad observed that it seemed a rather fitting climate for the location. We didn’t stay there too late – just long enough for a quick look-see, and then it was back on the subway and bound for my place.
We stopped off en route at the Heartland Brewery, in the Empire State Building and had some local brews (including a tasting tour of all the local options – some good, some not-so). Mum even tried her first piece of authentic New York cheesecake. Memo to me: at some stage of this trip, take Mum to Junior’s for the REAL deal.
Before calling it a night, we visited Baby Bo’s Cantina and enjoyed the crazy Christmas lights and yet more beers. Ugh it was totally Dad’s influence. Mum sipped a glass of white wine and behaved herself immensely. I even think she enjoyed her mini burrito – I know Dad did. And he likes the idea of being able to order things “on the side”. In this case, it was a heaped bowl of sliced jalapenos. He was in heaven.
When we got home, the Russian doorman embraced both of my parents – and I would have warned them about it, except I didn’t know he was a hugger. We all laughed about it though. We are well taken care of in our building, and my parents have already received a warm welcome from everyone they’ve met so I think they’d agree with me that their holiday is off to a great start.
I had a hair appointment on Saturday afternoon and felt instantly cheered. It's amazing what a pair of scissors and hydrogen peroxide can do to lift my spirits! Finding people you trust with your mane can be a real challenge in a new city but I've got this one in the bag.
The Ted Gibson salon in New York is a shout-out to modern glamour. In the shadow of New York's iconic Flatiron Building, the salon is a chic hive of activity and home to some talented and friendly people. Take my stylist, Ginafor example - she's fabulous (or "fabaloose", as Crazy Granny likes to say).
But do you know what makes Gina EXTRA lovely? She has kindly donated a hair cut to my fundraising campaign for the Team In Training NYC half-marathon. So that means for every monetary donation I receive between now and Australia Day (26 January), my donors go into the running to win a free haircut by Gina. The winner will be chosen at random.
Naturally this prize will only work if you live in NY (or if you're visiting some time soon), but trust me that Gina is equally brilliant at styling men and women. She is so generous, plus she is now very much in demand thanks to her runway work and wedding & special events styling. Thank you, Gina - this is so kind of you! And thank you, Ted Gibson, for giving Gina the OK to donate her services to this important fundraising campaign.
To get yourself in the running for a primping & preening experience with Gina and the crew at Ted Gibson salon in NY, please dig deep and kick in some cash to my fundraising campaign. You'll find the donations page here.
And guess what? I ran 2.4 miles at the gym on Saturday without stopping once, so this half-marathon thing is totally happening. Eye of the tiger, no question.
Well, it had to happen. I have sustained the first injury of my elite athletic life. I believe I have strained a lymph node. Well, I don't know what it is really, but it's a muscular thing or maybe a tendon thing. At the very least it's the squishy bit under my arm - where I keep my lymph nodes.
I turned up at the gym tonight, thinking I was headed into a ballet Pilates class. I haven't been to one of those in MONTHS so I was really excited to be able to make it to one. My hips have been quite sore since Tuesday night's run, so I liked the idea of doing a low-impact Pilates class to get a good workout - but also a really good stretch - for my legs. Naturally of course, I was running late before I ever started.
I rushed into the movement studio and in my haste to remove hoodie and iPod, I almost strangled myself with my earphones. Great look, Gabs. Then I looked at the front of the room and saw an unfamiliar instructor. Oh darn, I'd wandered into a Mat Pilates class - a.k.a floor torture! NUTS.
Too late to back out now, I laid out my mats and Pilates ring, and removed shoes and socks - ready to begin. First exercise of the class was my favourite - the plank. I got into push-up position, lowered my pelvis and concentrated. 30 seconds here, 30 seconds there, it was all fine. Then we had to do side planks. One side was fine and then we came back to centre, turned onto the other side and, in the words of Adam West's Batman, BLAM!KAPOW!OWWWW; (okay that last one was all me). My lymph node stretched, popped and shuddered. I seriously felt pain. It was not a pleasant experience.
The instructor noticed what happened and saw me cupping my own breast in the back row. Rather than leave me alone (which is what any normal person ought to do in this situation), she asked me if I was okay. "Yes," I said, "but I think I popped something". She told me to get into child's pose and wait things out a bit. So I obliged, all the while imagining my lymph node like a sore, deflated balloon in my armpit.
The rest of the exercises after that were okay, except the ones where I had to put any pressure on my right arm. My hips didn't like the leg exercises much either. My right hip has started clicking a bit every time I raise and lower my leg. This movement does not occur all that naturally in my daily life (how sad for me), but I can't imagine that a clicky hip is a very good sign really. Dodgy hip and saggy lymph node enjoyed the stretching we did - in fact my whole body really liked those parts - I totally zoned out and would have fallen asleep had the studio's dimmer switch been set any lower.
So yes I think my week of athleticism peaked on Tuesday and has slid into decrepitude ever since. If anyone needs me, I'll be icing my lymph node and nursing a glass of red.
Tonight was the first training session that we've had - ever - when it wasn't raining. An early Christmas miracle!
Perhaps it was the weather, perhaps it was just the planets finally lining up, but I made really good progress in the Park tonight. I joined my still-keen group of beginners on a quick warm up jog. Instantly I felt better than I did on Saturday. I settled into my groove and kept a steady pace. I chose not to chat to anyone around me tonight, cause I didn't want to burst the little bubble.
Back and forth we ran along the road; each circuit was 1/2 mile or so. There were times I wanted to stop and walk for a bit, take a bit of a break, but I didn't. I kept pushing myself. I didn't run quickly, but I pushed on.
Tonight's run was focusing on upper-body form, so the coaches were helping us improve our posture and our arm-swing as we moved. At one point, one of the coaches jogged up to me and started to chat. I had to respond. NUTS. So I gulped and gasped responses and tried to seem engaged. The coach told me I had an asymmetrical arm-swing. Dude, I thought, I can barely look at you right now...get lost! (huff!) (puff!). A bit of demonstration and I was soon swinging my arms symmetrically. Teacher's pet, all the way.
And after it was all over? I realised that I had run a little over 2 miles and I hadn't stopped once. This is progress, friends!
A naked man wraps himself in cling film and walks into his psychiatrist's office.
The psychiatrist looks at the man and says, "Quite clearly I can see you're nuts!".
Ba-dum-bum. It never gets old. I know, I know - I won't quit my day job.
After a tough Pilates class this morning, I walked over to Home Depot to see a man about some lumber. I needed to get some replacement drawer liners for the absolutely crap chest of drawers I have at home. The bottoms of all my drawers have buckled and bowed and now the drawers hardly close. So I went to the store that claims, "you can do it - we can help" to get six pieces of plywood cut to size.
To my mind, the sad thing about Manhattan hardware stores is that they don't have giant car parks offering sausage sizzles (or brat frys, if you're from Wisconsin). No ice cream vans either. And aren't they poorer for it?
The pimply sales representative at Home Depot told me that they don't sell wood in Manhattan. He lowered his voice to a whisper and told me that if I wanted to buy plywood, I would need to go out to a Home Depot in "the suburbs". We both stared at each other, knowing that was never gonna happen. Then he said I could try the competition, over on 23rd Street and 6th Avenue. So off I went, to see another man about some lumber.
Store #2 turned out to be a bust, with the lunatic behind the counter telling me that not only would I not find the plywood I needed in his store, I was unlikely to find it anywhere. Not in the city, not in the suburbs, not anywhere on planet earth. Hmm. I don't know much about plywood (nothing about it in fact) but I am fairly confident that if Target can find plywood thin enough to build the drawers in the first place, somewhere has to sell me plywood to replace it.
So I went to the store I should have gone to in the first place.
Nuthouse Hardware is the only 24/7 hardware store in NYC and it is quite an institution. It is the sort of hardware store you go to when you have no idea what you need to buy. Not only do you come out with it, you leave with your arms full of a bunch of other stuff you had no idea you needed in the first place.
Two of the hardware store guys (jovial Nepalese fellas) took pity on me and decided to render assistance. I explained to them what I thought I wanted, and they chattered away to each other to work out how to meet my plywood needs. They invited me to descend two flights of stairs with them, which I obligingly did, all the while wondering if I would ever be seen again.
Down in the basement I discovered a wood-worker's paradise. Offcuts of every kind of lumber you can think of (though I can't think of too many, let's face it). Down the back, behind the steel and 2x4, we found several squares of plywood - just the thickness (or thinness?) that I needed for my DIY job. I did a happy dance on the inside. Once again, Nuthouse Hardware delivered the goods.
The guys then involved me in a lengthy discussion about plywood thicknesses and sanding materials, which I only barely followed. We measured, me re-measured and we measured one last time. Then we finally got down to the business of using the saw to cut the plywood to the shape and size of drawers. Even though all I did was stand back and get covered in wood dust, I was quite pleased to be downstairs with the guys and part of these plywood particulars.
Of course on the way out, I bought sandpaper and a giant plastic container to keep my snow & ugg boots in (as you do). The store won again.
And now I'm home and actually have to give the drawers their new bottoms. If only such a task could be outsourced. DIY is all well and good, except for the Y part.
Good grief! So here's the thing. I know that I am not fit, despite my treadmill and Pilates activities. I might be getting there, but I have not yet arrived. In fact, I am quite a way off. This was brought home to me in spectacular fashion this morning at our first proper Group Training Session for Team in Training.
It was a chilly morning, but I felt a bit invigorated already because I had caught the bus up 1st Ave, got out at 68th Street and then walked across town up to the 72nd Street entrance of the Park. The fresh air and warm-up walk did me the world of good.
So we met in Central Park at the usual Bethesda Terrace location for our 10am start and I was really pleased to see Flock and Flora there too. We work together, we jog together. Group suffering is so much easier to bear, I think. We got into it pretty much straight away and after the coaches and mentors introduced themselves to our huge group we broke up into jogging groups to get started. The New Jersey and Madrid running groups headed off in one direction, and the NYC half-marathoners headed off in another.
An easy run this morning, they said. Only 1.7 miles (or "the lower loop" - see the southern part of this map). The intermediate and advanced among us were told to do two laps of the circuit, but the beginners and runner/walkers only had to do one.
I made it around the lower loop, with a bit of jogging, a bit of fast walking, and a bit more jogging. The cold air was pretty tough to take at first - but then I got into it.
The coaches/mentors had invited us to come away from today's session having met at least 5 new people, but I found it hard to run and talk at the same time. I was not very conversational, cause I just wanted to concentrate on my jogging and try not to die or get hit by a cyclist, rickshaw or horse-drawn carriage. Honestly I was happy in my own little zone. I chatted to a couple of the girls and one of the coaches as they jogged up to meet me, then they slowed down - or I did - and we overtook each other again at intervals. It was fine.
I remember thinking that 1.7 miles was pretty long today - and yet the half-marathon itself is 13.1 miles. I have between now and March to get my butt in gear and build up some stamina. We have been given our training plan for December and apparently by the end of this month, I'm supposed to be doing 4-5 mile jogs in one session. Um, yeah. Okay. Today was only Day 1 though - in future jogs I will only get better. Maybe I should do the lower loop run by myself a couple of times? Hmm, probably.
Next week is a 9am meet-up, but we have some strength and cross training sessions between now and then. Let's do this thing. You will not beat me, Central Park.
I may be a couple of weeks late for the official Small Business Saturday, but this morning I decided to stage my own show of support for my local neighbourhood businesses. Prompted by laziness and an empty fridge, of course. But motivations are immaterial, surely?!
At the corner of 34th & 1st sits a new diner called Lucky's. I don't know if its named after a person or a dog or what, but I liked it. The online reviews are terrible, which I think is a shame. Still, if you look closely at the calibre of people writing them, you'll most likely do what I did and disregard them.
The diner is run by a Greek man and his family, so that already wins points in my book. I went there pretty close to lunch and a bunch of old Greek fellas wandered in not long after me, and the place just erupted. The owner, his wife and a bunch of the waiters all started babbling away in Greek and it was really nice.
I had bacon, fried potatoes, plus poached eggs on 'whiskey down'. Uh, that's rye toast for those of us with no idea about waitress diner vocabulary. Even the coffee was strong and not your usually (ie horrible) American diner coffee. Delish. Not the easiest dish to screw up, mind you, but it was just what I needed on this cold Saturday morning.
And the fact that all this costs less than 10 bucks and is half a block from my house? Amazing.
I can't find my Playbill anymore and that is frustrating because I wanted to write down a lot about Thursday's amazing performance of Hugh Jackman - Back on Broadway. But let's just take a minute and marvel at the picture up there, shall we? Ahhh, that's better.
Hugh's show has a 10-week run at The Broadhurst Theater, which is a beautiful venue completed in 1918 that sits across the street from the iconic Sardi's restaurant. It's fair to say that I was in a magnificently bad mood on Thursday evening, and not being able to find a seat at any bar near the theater really annoyed me. I wanted to just sit somewhere, have a pre-theater drink, and try and prepare for an event that I was managing on Friday. But instead, I ended up walking the streets, blocks out of my way, feeling more and more like Joseph and Mary. No room at any inn. So I threw in the towel and wandered back to the theater to wait for K.
On the plan, our seats looked like they were in the nosebleed section. Three rows from the back or something. And I had resisted buying tickets for weeks because overall I thought they were just too costly to be worth it. As it was, our way-in-the-back seats were still $100 but I thought that was fair and besides, I really did want that one-night only chance to see and hear Hugh tread the boards.
The lights came up and the on-stage band kicked into gear and the show was on. And what a show! Hugh may not be the best singer in the world, but the man is the ultimate showman. He was magnetic on stage and he engaged with the audience, almost flirting with them at times. But best of all, he was himself. His stories were personal, his opinions were his own, and he delighted the audience with songs that meant something to him. He was all energy, all the time. And the audience lapped it all up. As K said to me at one point, "there are a lot of people here having some very intense experiences". At one point, one woman in front of us was sobbing.
I never got to see The Boy From Oz, but I know that confirmed Hugh's showmanship in a lot of people's minds - and it won him the Tony award. So it was fitting that after intermission, Hugh channelled Peter Allen and shimmied across the stage performing a medley of hits from the late songwriter. And then he slowed down a bit and sang my favourite, Tenterfield Saddler. I think K and I were quite grateful he didn't do,I Still Call Australia Home. I think we both would have cried. Stupid QANTAS choir - gets me every time.
My favourite part was the montage of hits from old-time Hollywood musicals. Singing in the Rain, Me and My Girl, Guys & Dolls and many more. It was a high-energy, song and dance number that brought the house down. Hugh never seemed to run out of puff and it was fantastic.
At the end of the show, as often happens on Broadway, Hugh took the stage to ask the audience to donate to Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS. I love this cause and have donated to them a bunch of times during the year, both at Broadway shows and not. And on World AIDS Day, which it was on Thursday, it was appropriate that Hugh would ask the audience to dig deep and help support the organisation's important work. So he started an auction to sell his sweaty tank tops.
They sold for $10,000 each. Right there on the spot. I couldn't believe it. For an additional $2,000 each, he would sign photographs with audience members and I have an easy time believing he would have made heaps more money off that. The audience was in his hands.
The show was fantastic and I would have no problems seeing it again, or seeing Hugh in pretty much anything else. I'm looking forward to his turn as Jean Valjean in the movie version of Les Miserables (Ann Hathaway besides - - eyeball roll). If nothing else, that role probably gives Hugh lots of opportunities to be grubby and shirtless. And that will sell movie tickets like nobody's business!
Yesterday was the second Tuesday in a row that it decided to rain all afternoon. Not normally an issue of course, except I was supposed to have my third pre-season workout for the NYC Half-Marathon in Central Park. Where is the incentive to run outdoors when it's pissing down?!
Of course I talked it over with Flock and Flower, my two running companions from work, and we agreed to bail. It didn't take us very long to come to that decision. Then ten minutes before we were supposed to walk out the door, Flock decided we were going. So I caved. I called Flower's office but she was already long gone. Sensible woman, that one. So Flock and I changed into gym gear and trudged along to Central Park for our 6.45pm workout.
The rain had stopped but there was this annoying misty spit falling from the sky, which is probably more irritating than rain when you think about it. We exercised in the open air - skipping, hopping, jumping-jacking (aka star-jumping, for those of you playing at home on the other side of the world). Then we had to jog up and back along the walkway. I didn't die, but I was glad when it was over. I have no stamina for this running gimmick yet. Then we did a couple of ballet leg lifts and some bicep something-somethings, and as the heavens threatened to open we sought refuge back under the Bethesda Terrace bridge.
For whatever reason I decided to get indignant at this point. Physically I felt fine - the workout up till now had been fine and my body was feeling warmed up and ready. But when the trainer asked us to lay down on the cold, wet floor under the bridge, I just wasn't having it. High school flashed into mind, and Sister Maryanne's frequent warning against sitting on concrete floors ("you'll get piles, girls!"). I don't want piles. Who does?! So I stubbornly refused to do the floor-based exercises.
My protest would probably have been more effective had I not been the only one participating in it. I looked around and I was literally the only princess in the group. One of the happy-clapper trainers came over and asked me if I was doing okay. She probably thought I was injured or something. I just said to her that I wasn't prepared to lie on the floor tonight (subtext: or any night, lady!). Harrumph. The lady just smiled that giant grin of the righteous and chirped, "okay!!". I could almost hear both of those exclamation points in her voice. ARGH. I begrudgingly joined the group towards the end and did one plank for the sake of Pilates (plus I find them relatively easy for some reason), then we did some cool down stretches, and the workout was all over for another night.
Yes I know that I was being a princess last night and I achieved nothing by boycotting the abdominal exercises. But this has been my only act of rebellion so far in this whole half-marathon enterprise, so I'm not dwelling on it too much. Somewhere out there, Sister Maryanne is quietly proud of me.
I was up early this morning, before my alarm in fact, because I've signed up to another block of four Pilates lessons every Sunday morning from now until my parents come over. I love thisgroovy Pilates studio, the same one that I went to back in summer. Has it really been that long between classes?! I've graduated from beginner status though, and this morning I was ready and willing to get started on the hard stuff.
I must have put rocket boosters on my sneakers because I walked the 14 blocks to the studio in record time. There were a lot of crazies out earlier today, scavenging bins and screaming at threats only they could see. Scarier still was the handful of hungover souls doing the walk of shame. No judgment.
The instructor we had this morning remembered me from a previous class, which I thought was really nice. She took us through the usual bendy-stretchy routines on the tower, swapping springs and straps and all manner of tools designed to strengthen and lengthen our muscles.
But the total kicker for me came when we had to lay on our backs, keeping our legs straight and our thighs and feet together. Using our abdominals we had to raise and lower our legs as much as we could. Sounds easy but it's a bit of a killer, trust me.
The instructor told us to squeeze our thighs together, and pretend we had a piece of paper in between them that we didn't want to lose. Coming over to check that I was maintaining neutral pelvis (not as kinky as it sounds), the instructor said, "keep your thighs together - don't let anything get between your thighs!". I snort-laughed; it was like all the nuns from high school were back in the room again!
The instructor just smiled and I kept leg-lifting. That imaginary piece of paper didn't budge.
I am so glad that this blog does not come with a webcam because today is Black Friday and I'm going to recline in my pyjamas for as long as I can without grossing myself out. I'm going to enjoy copious amounts of strong coffee, lip-smackingly hot buttered toast, and a TV line-up that is so ludicrously crappy that I can scarcely believe it.
Black Friday is the biggest shopping day in the US and it comes the day after Thanksgiving. I did not have a big Turkey Day this year, but even I'm having trouble moving too far, too fast. How gluttons heave themselves around the department stores on this capitalist delight's special day is totally beyond me. Maybe they secretly did what I did this year, and got up early to shop online. With the exception of one person, my Christmas shopping is now totally done. And I didn't have to leave the apartment to do it. Score!
The best thing about being a sloth on Black Friday is it allows you to reflect on the day before. Turkey Day, Thanksgiving - whatever you call it - is a day to stop and give thanks for the good things in your life. I've had some amazing Thanksgiving meals in my US experience:
The second time, I tried to host an orphan's Thanksgiving and one by one, everybody bailed. So in the words of Forrest Gump, "that's all I have to say about that";
The third time, I went to the Trade Commissioner's house and had a huge roast lunch;
The fifth meal I cheated and hosted it in June, to celebrate my Aussie friend's visit;
The sixth and seventh meals were, if you can believe it, both on the same day, this time in NYC when I flew in to visit K. We were more stuffed than the turkeys by the end of that day; and
Now of course it's Thanksgiving Meal #8 and despite my fancy cooking class, I wimped out and did the heat-and-eat option.
I actually thought I had Thanksgiving plans this year, but friends who had initially talked about coming to NYC for the weekend ended up changing their plans. Quite separately, I was also invited to have an orphan's lunch at a friend's place but with the idea of hosting my own friends in town, I had to decline. Nothing was a big deal in the end of course, because the food I bought freezes really well. So I kept out the pre-cooked turkey breast, cranberry & herb stuffing, mashed potatoes and turkey gravy, and I managed to cobble (gobble?) together some steamed vegetable side dishes to go with it. I sensibly froze the apple crisp dessert because I think that if I'd left that out, I would have scoffed the lot. As I polished off the plateful of almost-homemade deliciousness, I had a couple of glasses of red wine and watched "Ghostbusters" and "National Lampoons Christmas Vacation". It was a pretty good day, for sure.
And the only hangover I have today is a food-related one. Waking up from a turkey coma is always a bit rough. Online shopping and strong coffee has helped revive me somewhat, and I'm ready to face the day dealing with leftovers. I'm thinking that a turkey chilli is on the menu, for which I shall be truly thankful for days to come.
