Geekylocks and the Three Beers

I know that summer in New York is one of those fleeting things that is meant to inspire me to break free, dash outside and greedily seize the season with both hands.

Yet here I am on a sultry Saturday, holed up inside doing loads of laundry, drinking beers and getting totally absorbed reading "The Hunger Games" trilogy. If there were a bigger nerd on this earth, I'd like to meet her.

This week has been quite a busy one. I was occupied with end-of-financial year madness at work and in an effort to amuse myself more than anything, I created some pretty dazzling budget spreadsheets. My boss even felt sorry enough for me to approve one of them, and thus our tentative budget for next financial year was set. Whether it remains so is a mystery to us all.

I have also caught up in my studies for an online course run by the United Nations Institute for Training & Research (UNITAR). My office was kind enough to pay for my enrolment in a course designed to give me an Introduction to the United Nations System. In the sixth months I've been at work, I know a lot of my knowledge has come by osmosis and yet I was still feeling a little behind. I had begun using acronyms and phrases without really knowing what they meant or where they come from. The six week online course really just skimmed the surface of the UN System, but at least I feel now like I have some more context for the things I do and why. I was even quite proud of my consistent 90% exam results across the board. Multiple choice exams they might have been, but 90% is still 90% and I was pretty pleased about that. I think I still have one more module to go although as with the budget stuff, I won't know more until the email comes out next week.

I also finally bit the bullet and bought a new computer this week. I have finally bitten the Apple and my Macbook Pro gets delivered next week. Of course the idea of going into the NY Apple store terrified me, so I chickened out and did all my ordering online. As I did with my last PC, I also ordered "stupidity insurance", to guard against any Diet Coke spillage or unfortunate rolling-off-the-bed incidents that might occur. As an added perk, I treated myself to an iPod nano - a blood red one - and I got it engraved with my name on it. I suspect that might be the most ridiculous and pathetic thing to do, but I was caught up in the consumerism of it all. Anyone who finds my iPod and listens to the dodgy music selection won't need the engraving to know who it belongs to - and yet I couldn't resist inscribing it. Oh well, it's too late to back out now. Once a geek, always a geek.

But for now, this little geek is going to imprint the sofa with her butt and settle in for a few more chapters - and maybe a few more beverages. Isn't this what weekends are for, anyway?

Hair pulled back. Wayfarers on. Baby.

This past weekend was a festival of summer – a celebration of all things sunshine, outdoors, beer, food and friends.

Owing to a rather monstrous hangover on Friday and the obligation to go to work in spite of it, I tucked myself in for an early night on Friday and emerged on Saturday morning looking and feeling substantially more human. Hooray for rebounding!

We had Little Miss Korea staying with us over the weekend, and while she went to the airport to farewell her Aussie boyfriend, I hoofed it down to South Street Seaport (Pier 17) as part of my ongoing Global Corporate Challenge efforts.

It is really quite sad that my sense of direction is so totally woeful. Even on 2nd Avenue, which is pretty much a straight road until you get to Houston, I managed to take a bit of a dodgy turn and end up going the wrong way. I was still heading towards the river (phew), just way further out of my way than initially intended. Thanks to the ravings of a lunatic ahead of me, I got myself back onto Broadway, and followed the signs to Market Street and down to the water.

Saturday was a pretty warm day, and having jostled through the crowded Chinatown streets (sensory overload to boot), I was quite hot and bothered. The cool breeze off the river was absolutely beautiful. Families dangled fishing rods into the cool, murky water and I remember thinking I wouldn’t be too keen to eat whatever took their bait. But maybe they never intended to either, and perhaps the fishing was just an activity to get together and pass the time. Judging by the lack of activity on the end of their lines, it certainly seemed like a relaxing one.

Having made it to Pier 17, where I had agreed to meet Little Miss Korea, I settled down at a long trestle table at the Beekman Beer Garden, facing out over the River and the uninterrupted view of the Brooklyn Bridge. I could just make out the pedestrians and cyclists going across the giant structure and I sipped my cold (and local) Sixpoint Ale and read a couple of chapters of The Hunger Games, hardly noticing the beer garden filling up with tourists and locals around me.

When Little Miss Korea arrived, we enjoyed a delicious beer and bratwurst lunch (plus sauerkraut and grilled corn cobs of course), and then we left to walk home. We headed up through the South Street Seaport shopping precinct (cute market stalls and handmade goods); through Little Italy (vintage stores and loads of cafes and pastries); past the World Trade Center site; skirted around Soho (lemon & pomegranate sorbet? Don’t mind if I do); and plopped into El Parador for some restorative happy hour margaritas.

Even though my feet were throbbing by this stage, I was pleased to have explored some new parts of the City (some of it accidentally) and chalked up 19,900 or so steps (woohoo!). After a day of activity like that, I really think the kiss of death is sitting on the sofa. How hard is it to get back up after you do that?! Yikes.

We had another quiet night at home on Saturday, emerging on Sunday morning with enough get up and go to visit Pipa for brunch. The fantastic tapas place has great decor (chandeliers dangling overhead and all), plus a very cool brunch menu, including my favourite dish on the menu – Huevos Rancheros. It’s fun to say and fun to eat. But Pipa also has passionfruit caipirinhas on the drinks menu; made with sugar cane rum, lime and sugar. They are very delicious but very strong. One serve of huevos rancheros does not adequately absorb the rum from two of those little beauties, trust me.

The restaurant is located behind the gorgeous ABC Carpet store, and it was lovely to browse around there afterwards, trying not to let the rum get the better of me. We even had a bit of a celebrity encounter, seeing Aussie chef Curtis Stone and his lady friend Lindsay Price (plus baby-on-board), shopping for goodness knows what. We didn’t say anything of course – we are far too cool for that. Plus I didn’t want to get maced, or breathe rum all over a pregnant lady.

On leaving the store we could hear the whoops and hollers from the nearby Gay Pride Parade, but we kept our distance and instead wandered through Union Square. A sporting injury prevented K from striding along too much – the best the poor thing could do was hobble around valiantly. When it all got a bit crazy and we were ready for home, we took the subway and collapsed in a heap on the sofa. Blissful.

"Drinking Mammal Shit" and other stories

There is a reality show on some cable network or other here in the US called “Extreme Couponing”. Actually I don’t think that’s what it’s called at all but whatever.... Anyway, the show basically focuses on these people who are completely obsessed with clipping coupons – even for things they don’t need, want or could ever use. They get a rush from clipping coupons for 9 hours a day just so they can walk out of a store with 400 tubes of toothpaste, having paid nothing for them. It’s pretty compelling TV actually.

While I’m not an extreme coupon-clipper, I do like to save a dollar where I can. I had heard about the Chicago-based Groupon company a while back and since I moved to New York I’ve become quite a devotee. Unlike clipping coupons, the Groupon site doesn’t give me free stuff (so far anyway), but I do buy things at a discount – often a significant one – and giving me lots of opportunities to see and do interesting stuff in my new home town. Bonus!

Yesterday I had a long-overdue catch up with RS who I have known for a while and works upstairs. I had wanted to use two new Groupon certificates I had bought (henceforth referred to as G1 and G2), and RS and agreed to keep me company on the excursion.

So after work yesterday we caught a cab to Limelight Marketplace – a place I was convinced I’d never been to, until we got there and I realised I had walked past it about two weeks before. Originally a church, the interior was gutted years ago and the building transformed into a nightclub. Then some years later, the club closed down and developers turned it into a bright and ultra-modern market. The space is really beautiful, if not a little rabbit-warreny, but you could easily lose hours just wandering through the funky stores selling many unique pieces from independent retailers but with a flashy department-store feel.

Our first stop was Jezalin’s, a fancy gourmet food market nestled in a far corner of the Limelight Marketplace. G1 was good for two cups of coffee – but not your standard-issue, over the counter coffee either. Oh no, friends. This G1 gave me two cups of the Rolls Royce of coffee. Normal retail price? $30 per cup. Yes, you read that right – per cup. WTF?! We’re talking about rare kopi luwak arabica coffee that comes from Sumatra. The coffee is fancy all because a civet (or luwak, to the locals) eats the ripe coffee cherries, chemically treats & ferments them in its stomach and then poops out the beans. Yes, G1 was good for two cups of luwak poo-coffee. And I have to tell you, it was actually pretty good – if you can get past the notion that you’re drinking something that started its life as an excretion from a mammal’s furry buttocks. Reading the tasting notes online this morning, I don’t recall the coffee tasting like chocolate, but it was certainly smooth and easy to drink. RS and me agreed that it didn’t have that harsh, almost-burnt aftertaste that coffee can sometimes have. Even though I normally take milk in my coffee, I wouldn’t add milk to this one. I liked it, but I wouldn’t pay $30 a cup for it. Unless of course I could drink it in St Mark’s Square, while Venetian minstrels serenaded me; then it would probably be okay.

Having been somewhat revived by our Sumatran adventure, we headed upstairs to Cana Wine Bar, a cute little place on the Limelight Marketplace mezzanine level, to redeem G2 (for $20 worth of food/drink). Surrounded by stained-glass windows and overlooking the busy shops below, we enjoyed a bottle of Cava and a cheese plate. As boring as it sounds, I think the parmigiano reggiano was my favourite – and the raspberry (?) jam offered alongside was pretty delicious too. Bear in mind if you visit that the toilets at Cava are very tricky to find but if that is the only thing I can complain about, that’s quite good. Oh wait, the music there was pretty loud but I think that’s just because I’m an old lady and I’m aurally sensitive and crotchety when it comes to these things.

I think by this point we were feeling rather peckish, and so we figured we’d walk uptown and stop in at whatever restaurant took our fancy along the way. We didn’t get very far, because right next door to Limelight Marketplace – part of the tenancy, in fact, is a brand new restaurant called CrossBar. It opened about a month ago and while I didn’t remember it at the time, I now recall reading about it in my “New York” magazine. They have pig’s ears on the menu – not just for dogs anymore, guys! We didn’t have that though – we enjoyed a lovely bottle of Willamette Valley (Oregon) rose, some duck sliders and also some pulled pork tacos. So tasty! Despite the threat of rain, we sat at a table outside, under an exotic umbrella. It was definitely another success story of the evening.

At this point we finally decided to leave the vicinity of Limelight Marketplace and we walked up Fifth Avenue, through Madison Square Park and over to RS’s old watering hole, The Crooked Knife. Strangely enough, I’d actually been there before – but only for brunch. In the evenings the place comes alive and they have a fantastic collection of 80s tunes on their system – I was in heaven! As we chatted and people-watched, I had one too many ciders and at 1.30am, we removed ourselves from the venue and taxied home. But in typical New York fashion, the bar and even the city streets were still well and truly buzzing.

The One About The East Village

Every day for the past few weeks I've been faithfully recording the steps I've walked as part of The Global Corporate Challenge (GCC). I know you're supposed to walk 10,000 steps a day as part of a healthy lifestyle and some days I've definitely exceeded that target. But to be honest, my daily average tends to hover around the 8,000 steps mark - not ideal, but still nothing to sniff at really.

Today I accompanied K to the East Village where she had a brunch date, and I had resolved to walk around and give my GCC pedometer a bit of a workout.

My first stop in this healthy dose of fitness was to Butter Lane, the cupcake emporium. I know, I know but bear with me. I redeemed one of my Groupon vouchers, good for six assorted cupcakes. Ordering anything in the US is not my strong suit and the sheer expanse of the frosting/icing menu at Butter Lane was totally overwhelming. So I asked the cashier to just make me a box of her favourite cupcakes and she ended up giving me all manner of toothache-inducing options. Peanut butter & banana; caramel and vanilla; and key lime pie - just to name a few.

Next stop was another calorie-free enterprise, The Chocolate Library. I mean, come on - its name alone blends two of my favourite things in the world. How could I go wrong? Somewhat disappointingly, the store has nothing whatsoever to do with books. But on the chocolate front, the store well and truly delivers. Offering tasty treats and gourmet bars from all over the world, it really was quite hard to choose just one thing. So I chickened out and bought a tasty sampler from the Chicago chocolate company Vosges, oh and then I pinched a couple of samples from the front counter.

All that calorific shopping worked up an appetite, so I called into the second Tuck Shop store on St. Mark's Place. Ice-cold Coopers Pale and a meat pie? Hell yeah! The strong flat white coffee I had afterwards rounded out the lunch perfectly.

By this stage I was feeling completely stuffed and the drizzly rain was showing no sign of letting up. So I crawled from shop to shop on the 30-block walk back home. Coming through the front door I was met by our Super, who was proudly holding aloft a plate of cupcakes that he swore to me were home-made...by him, no less. Stuffing in a vanilla cupcake with delicious chocolate icing, we chatted for a few minutes before I had to excuse myself to come upstairs and lie down.

6,000 steps and the calories to match. Now that's doing the East Village in style!

Silver, Bubbles, and Chinese manipulations

Before I launch into my story, I should probably explain the radio silence we've been experiencing on this here website.

I have been away for the past few weeks back in Australia for a combination of work and private reasons. Work-wise I had the great fortune to participate in a week-long induction course for overseas-based employees of my agency. So not only did I get to meet my counterparts from some of our wonderful offices around the world (Vanuatu, PNG, Burma, Nairobi - to name a few), I also got to say hello to some Australia-based contacts who had, up until that time, only been names on the bottom of an email. I got a lot out of that exhausting week of training, but especially the confidence that I have made another career move in the right direction.

Another positive outcome of the training week was that it afforded me the chance to visit Canberra, our nation's capital and a city that I have not visited since a school bus trip in 1992. Oh my God was it THAT long ago? And yet I'm only 21....it's a maths miracle! Canberra is a confusing city - at street level anyway. I'm assured that if you climb up Mount Ainslie you get a birds-eye view of the metro area which actually makes the city look like a feat of architectural genius. Something that would have been useful to know beforehand, perhaps. But I will not slag off Canberra, because I really can't. I'm just used to grid cities, that's all. Canberra is laid out in a seashell shape, as far as I could tell. Once we found them, the restaurants and bars were fantastic - Tongue and Groove, Cream, Milk and Honey took my money but they were totally worth it. Canberra is also home to some wonderful cultural institutions - The National Gallery of Australia, The National Portrait Gallery, and the Australian War Memorial - all of which are within walking distance of one another, and definitely worth a visit. Breaking up the walk with a constitutional around Lake Burley Griffin was also really fun.

Then I spent a week at home with my family, which is always a plus. No real tourism potential this time around, though I did get to call into the Haighs factory and replenish some much-depleted chocolate stocks.

Before I knew it, it was back to real life in NY and I have to say I really did miss the City. Even getting off the plane at midnight at JFK (after a flight path from Adelaide to Canberra to Sydney to LA to New York), I was really pleased to be "home". But I have to tell you, when I got back to Australia, the Customs & Immigration guy said "welcome home" to me - and then when I got back to the States and went through Customs in LA, the dude there said the same thing. Total spin out, to be "welcome home"-d in two places. I remember thinking that was weird and yet kinda cool at the same time.

So yes, back to yesterday and what was quite possibly the most girly-girl day I have had in a long time.

The beautiful summer weather has arrived in NY and with it comes the bright sunshine at ridiculous times of the morning. It's not unusual to have searing light burn your retinas at 6am and sure it's my own fault because my bedroom windows are wide open; a) because I am clearly an exhibitionist; and b) because the weather has also been so humid lately that I need as much fresh air as I can get. So I've been sleeping with my QANTAS eye mask on and feeling very in the manner of Audrey Hepburn - though admittedly my mask is plain black, and not satin with fake eyelashes glued onto the front.

So in a very Hepburn way, I got up yesterday and decided to walk to Tiffanys to get my necklace fixed. My chain has had a knot in it for some time and I have neither the patience nor the dexterity to untangle it myself. So after breakfast I put on this dress with a simple pair of black ballet flats, and set off on my walk to Tiffanys. En route I stopped off at Culture, a fantastic coffee place that serves strong flat whites - just the way we make them back home. Excellent fuel for walking the New York streets on a busy Saturday morning.

By the time I got to Tiffany's, 5th Avenue was already swarming with tourists. Once safely inside the gem-filled inner sanctum, I marched straight to the elevators at the back of the store and got some lovely compliments on my dress from the elevator dude and some Tiffany's customers alike. Blush. In the repairs department, I bonded instantly with the staff who were not only able to untangle my necklace chain, but they also talked me into paying for a polish (they are so smooth). While I waited for my necklace to get all sparkly-like, I chatted with one of the sales staff and learned about his apartment, his recently-deceased cat, his previous career with Ralph Lauren, and his advice for where I might spend fantastic holidays with incredibly rich people (Nantucket, anyone??). By the time my necklace was ready, me and the good fellow were best friends and he gave me a bunch of free stuff to keep my necklace in tip-top condition. Blush. I swear, nothing bad can ever happen to you at Tiffany's.

After that, I took my new sparkly jewellery out for a walk and headed for home. On the way past Grand Central Station I thought it might be nice to have a glass of bubbles and an oyster or two. As you do. I usually get a bit "thingo" about eating seafood so far from the ocean, but the Grand Central Oyster Bar is supposed to be fantastic. Unfortunately with all the crowds around in the terminal, I got all turned around and couldn't find the damn bar so I just wandered upstairs to Cipriani Dolci and had lunch there instead. The little restaurant looks over the Main Concourse of the iconic train station, but you're high enough up that you don't feel part of the rushing madness. My bellini and mini steak tartare rolls were just delicious.

Heading for home, I looked down at my hands and realised that my nails and cuticles were truly in a disgusting state. Oh sure, they've been in a disgusting state for a long time but I've never really been too inspired to fix them. Heading down my street I literally walked past a nail salon so I didn't have to go out of my way or anything. Looking inside the shop I could see a few empty chairs so I just took the chance and went on in. The Chinese ladies know a non girly-girl when they see one, and instantly they swung into helpful mode. Welcome, Come In, Sit Down bla bla. So I played my part and pretended to be completely useless, muttering something about ugly hands, weak nails, liking French manicure tips etc etc. Next thing I know I have not one, not two, but three sales assistants peering down at my hands, getting stuck in to fitting me for some false French nails. Sort of like the ones you can buy at the chemist but the prep they did beforehand was really thorough and the nail glue they used is a lot stronger. The end result is a set of talons that are well-fitted, feel really secure and don't make me look like a Vegas stripper. The Chinese girls told me never to get acrylics because those nails will give me cancer. At least that's what I think they said. I was too distracted by the post-manicure shoulder massage that all three of them insisted on giving me after the appointment. Most distracting.

After an early night, I've awoken to a sunny Sunday and a strong desire to get outdoors again. I have some reading to do for work so I think I might have to scope out a spot early and set up camp somewhere close to clean toilets and an ice cream stand. Not that I'm picky or anything.

Fleas, Beads and Pork Bellies

Having hosted a very casual and laid-back Mother's Day brunch at the apartment on Saturday morning/afternoon, we wandered up our street to The Affordable Art Fair, just opposite the Empire State Building.


Now I don't know anything about art, and I don't even pretend to, but I found it really amusing that "affordable" really is a fluid concept in New York. The set up for the AAF was very similar to the art & design shows I'd seen at The Merchandise Mart in Chicago, so I was hoping to find some legitimately affordable pieces amongst the more expensive items. There were a couple of exhibitors with unframed prints on sale for about $100, but most of the pieces were easily hovering around the $400-$1,000 mark.

Despite my disillusionment at the cost of things, I really enjoyed the fact that artists and galleries had come from all over the US, Europe and even Australia to exhibit their work. The lady from the Brisbane gallery had some lovely Indigenous Australian art (mostly dot paintings) and the colours were particularly beautiful. Unfortunately the price was just a little - or maybe a lot - out of my reach. Next time, maybe.

After the AAF we crossed the street and went into The Morgan Library & Museum - well more accurately, we went into the Museum gift shop. Now I'm a sucker for libraries but an even bigger sucker for Museum gift shops, and this one is gorgeous. Their collection of reference books for sale is just lovely and I happily browsed for a while in there. I'd like to go back to the Museum and see its latest exhibition of private diaries - Jane Austen, Mark Twain and others are apparently in there. Mrs H said the Museum is architecturally gorgeous too, so I'd like to check it out. When we went there, the main Museum space was being set up for an event (a wedding, we presumed - given the sheer amount of flowers being arranged). What a lovely venue for it...

We were all starting to fade by this time so as we headed for home we called into The Nordic Center - again, to check out the gift shop. Meatball fans that we are, I know K and me will be back for brunch at the cafe - plus I think I will need to buy a jar of those lingonberries that I picked up and put back a couple of times.

Dinner on Saturday night was a cheap and cheerful affair at a BYO Asian restaurant up the street from our place. I think I was almost asleep on my feet at this point, and when we got home we stayed up long enough to greet Mr H and then we all just crashed.

Sunday morning was full of promise - bright sunshine, a hint of breeze - just gorgeous. We had decided to spend the whole day over in Brooklyn, browsing the antique shops and the flea markets.

We caught the subway and rocked down to Atlantic Avenue, home of some lovely antique shops. It was funny snaking through the piles of vintage chairs, tables, and assorted home decor items. Everywhere you looked in those antique stores, there was a dusty hidden gem. I had my eye on a lovely mahogany writing desk and matching chair but as with my experience on Saturday, these items were not as affordable as I had hoped.

It's amazing how quickly you can work up an appetite in those antique stores though! We had a quick bite to eat at a little Middle Eastern place called Bedouin Tent. We got lucky enough to find a table for 4 outside in the restaurant's little garden space and it was just beautiful out there. The food was really tasty too - delicious fresh salads, straight-from-the-oven pita breads and my leg of lamb sandwich with minty mayonnaise was just yummy. The peppermint tea and slice of baklava finished the meal beautifully.

But there was no rest for the wicked yesterday and we caught the subway to the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens in the hope of seeing the cherry blossoms. The festival was over of course, but the trees were still in bloom so we thought it would be a good spot to walk around and enjoy the sunshine. None of us had remembered that the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens charges a $10 admission fee and we really didn't feel much like paying that, particularly not when Prospect Park is pretty much right next door and is totally free. K was very helpful in reminding us that Prospect Park is the perfect dump site for bodies in "Law and Order" but we didn't see any corpses yesterday. Phew!

I loved walking around Prospect Park yesterday; not just for the weather, but families seemed to be out enjoying the sunshine and having picnics and playing frisbee and playing with their dogs - it was lots of fun. A perfect Mother's Day really. We wandered along the footpaths just soaking up the atmosphere at a very leisurely pace. A quick stop for a restorative icecream across from the Park, and we were back on the subway bound for the Williamsburg neighbourhood.

The view of Manhattan from Williamsburg (or Billyburg, as some people know it) is just beautiful. You really can't beat that panorama. On a much smaller scale, people had spread their picnic rugs out on the patches of grass and they were set up to enjoy the view. Right next door to their makeshift picnic ground is the newly-expanded outdoor Brooklyn Flea Market. Just as we arrived it was getting close to 5pm closing time and the vendors were starting to pack up. But we stil got the chance to see the sorts of wares on offer - furniture, old books, vintage clothes and handmade jewellery. Wandering up towards the Bedford Avenue pubs & bars, we called into the indoor Market, and browsed some more of the vintage clothes and handmade jewellery stalls.

By this time our feet were throbbing and we desperately needed a nice cold drink and an opportunity to sit still for a while. We walked over to Rye, a great little spot with a lovely wooden bar and old NY filament light bulbs and even an antique-looking cash register at the bar (which turned out to be purely ornamental, but still looks pretty cool). I had a couple of vodka, lime & sodas and they were very strong, but very refreshing. Just what I needed!

Just as my feet and calves had relaxed a bit, we were off again to walk to our restaurant for dinner. K had made reservations at Dressler, in the shadow of the Williamsburg Bridge. A Michelin-starred restaurant, Dressler is a really beautiful place. The service is excellent and we were well taken care of, as we sat at the bar and enjoyed some wine and oysters before dinner. Once we were seated, we shared a delicious octopus starter and then I had the pork belly for my main course. I could not fit dessert in, but we did share the rhubarb/meringue special and also the banana tarte tatin, both of which were sweet and delicious.

By the time we finished our meal, I think the pace of our day had finally caught up with all of us. As we piled into the taxi to head back to the apartment, sure we had sore feet, but we also had full stomachs and contented smiles. A really great day out.

Tipping my Sombrero to NYC

For this, my 1005th post on this blog, I need to bring you up to speed on last night's Cinco de Mayo celebration.

A friend on Facebook summarised yesterday's 5 May anniversary as the day that the Mexicans kicked Napoloeon's ass. Succint, and true.

I suspect the original Cinco de Mayo celebrations were just as rowdy as the ones I've experienced over the last few years, firstly in Chicago and now here in NYC. And Cinco de Mayo is a bit like St Patrick's Day, in that you don't need to be from Mexico to join the fiesta.

My Cinco de Mayo date this year was K's mum, who is visiting us at the moment. My neighbourhood is full of Mexican restaurants (for no other reason than coincidence I think) and naturally I didn't think to make dinner reservations because I can be a bit useless like that. And so in rather optimistic fashion, we hit the streets to see if we could just get in anywhere.

Drunken revellers were spilling out of the crowded bars selling $4, $5 and $6 margaritas and drinks specials on Corona beers. Some people were looking a little worse for wear even early in the evening, but you could tell that a good time was being had.

The closest Mexican place to us, El Parador was chock-full and showing no signs of slowing down. Ditto several other places that we visited. By this stage I was getting hungry and suggested to Mrs H that we just eat anywhere and maybe enjoy a post-dinner margarita on the walk home. Suggestion accepted.

So in we went to Cavatappo Wine Bar and I absolutely loved it. Browse the website at your leisure but do not go to the restaurant itself because then you'll love it too, and then everyone will go and I'll never get a table. Cute and straight waiters - an extensive wine list - yummy food menu - it was all there. We split a carafe of easy-drinking red wine, and I had a delicious baked pasta dish (duck ragu).

After our meal, the pubs - and the crowds - were still pumping, but we took another chance at El Parador for a tequila-flavoured digestif.

Again, browse the El Parador website as much as you want, but do not go to the restaurant. I never want to miss the opportunity to have their margaritas. They are so, so good. The staff there are always lovely and last night, as we sat on our barstools downstairs in the event space, Mrs H and I happily sipped our drinks and watched the Cinco de Mayo chaos reign all around us.

Like most cocktails, margaritas are like eyes - one is too few, three is too many. An aside, why do I never remember this cautionary phrase when I'm actually imbibing the damn things? I woke up today feeling quite human but admittedly I've been getting foggier as the day wears on. I don't actually blame the margaritas for any of this though. I think it was the shots of tequila mixed with pineapple juice that really did the damage. I mean seriously, why would you taint tequila with pineapple juice anyway?! Its muy loco, muchachas!

Walk This Way, Talk This Way

No alarm necessary this morning - some nearby disaster brought with it the lights & sirens of the NYPD so that was enough to get me out of bed fairly early today. Nothing that a strong coffee couldn't fix though.

I caught the subway up north to the Upper East Side today and walked along Fifth Avenue in the dappled sunshine along what is known as Museum Mile. It's not a very creative name when you think about it, given that the forty (or so) blocks are home to some of NY's most iconic arts and cultural institutions. In fact, during my walk I saw a flyer for the Museum Mile Festival in June 2011 and I have to go back and check that out. The whole area is a beautiful part of NYC - particularly in spring time with all the flowers in bloom and the weather putting on a fantastic show. Even with my horrible Lego hair and dirty sneakers, I was in a great mood. PS - I am totally fixing my awful hair next week - I have an appointment and everything. Phew!

Before long, I had walked from East 96th Street, all the way along Central Park and down to The Plaza Hotel at E58th-59th Streets. Not a bad walk at all. I sat in the shade at the Pulitzer Fountain and did a bit of reading and people watching. It was great to look across at the Apple Store and FAO Schwarz toy store and realise that I didn't have to be part of those crazy touristy crowds, unless I really wanted to be, of course. The pedestrian traffic on Fifth Avenue was pretty nuts today but everyone seemed to be in a good mood which I think really helps.

I got up and wandered the couple of blocks along Fifth Avenue into Tiffany & Co, just for a bit of a look. I headed straight up to the silver jewellery floor (much easier to blend in up there, than downstairs with all the blingy jewels). I didn't need the emotional uplift of the silver department but hey - who ever needs an excuse for Tiffany's?!

After getting my fix of shiny, pretty things I headed back out into the sunshine and over to the very cute Paris Theatre to see Catherine Deneuve and Gerard Depardieu in their new movie, "Potiche" (The Trophy Wife). From what I could tell there is only one cinema in the whole place and even that's not very big. There were not too many people in the theatre either, so it was quite nice to just lose a couple of hours in there.

Emerging from the darkness after the film, I walked home and now my legs are starting to feel the after-effects of all my exercise but I am really pleased I got out for the day.

Again, today was one of those days were I didn't have to be anywhere or do anything in particular. I could have quite easily detoured into some of the museums I walked past this morning, but in a way I'm glad I didn't. It just felt really nice to walk past them this time, confident that I will come back to them one day soon. I am starting to get a bit more oriented in the City and that is cheering me a great deal. I even gave some girls directions to Park Avenue today, and I was 100% sure that I was pointing them the right way (we were 2 blocks away, so it wasn't that hard). I still have a lot of this island to discover, I'm under no illusions about that, but while these weekend walks are aimless, I still feel like I'm getting somewhere.

Stop, Collaborate and....glisten?!

There is no denying that spring has well and truly sprung in New York City this weekend.

The Brooklyn Botanic Gardens is showcasing its Cherry Blossom Festival at the moment and I wanted to get out there this morning to see it. Unfortunately some silly bunny forgot to set the alarm and sleep held me prisoner until very late this morning. Not that I'm complaining - I'm pretty sure the early start yesterday (thanks to THE Royal Wedding) was to blame, so I must have needed the lie-in.

All was not lost though, and I hit the pavement and wandered over to the Chelsea neighbourhood to look around. It was great not to be under any pressure to go anywhere, or to see anyone or anything in particular. I wandered in and out of vintage and thrift stores, and even visited some local art galleries. The good thing about having horrible hair, dirty sneakers and a foreign accent is that all the snooty art gallery owners thought I was a tourist so they said hello and then left me alone to browse. Sweet!

Unable to resist a good bookshop, I was attracted to the sign for Idlewild Books on West 19th Street and so I headed upstairs to investigate. In the front of the store, at a large dining table, a man was leading a class in discussing an Italian book. Not that a book club is an unusual thing, except that this book discussion was happening in Italian. Groovy! Then as I wandered around, half-listening to the class dissect tenses, explore themes and grammar, I heard a similar discussion happening behind a large velvet curtain - only this time, it was in French! What a great store - language classes AND books, all in one place; I was very intrigued by the whole thing. I wandered around with a couple of books in my hands, but I ended up putting them back - I have a long enough list of 'must read' books back at home so I was glad to show some restraint at lease. All the same, I loved the vibe in that store and I really enjoyed seeing the shelves of kids books in different languages - sure there was "Le Petit Prince", which I would have expected, but I had never before seen "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" in French. Nice one, Idlewild!

Then I found myself amidst the chaos of 5th Avenue chain stores and so I kept striding along aimlessly. A group of young guys - presumably off-duty construction workers - channeled Kit from "Pretty Woman" and told me to "move that booty....work it" as I cut around them (nice!) and pretty soon I found myself in the back streets of Greenwich Village, heading into Soho.

A quick pit-stop for lunch at a grimy cafe restored me (by the healing powers of grilled cheese and strong coffee) and before long I was off again for the long meander home.

As far as I'm concerned New York is a really welcoming, inclusive city. That said, I honestly don't think I belong in Soho. If you're a fashion plate or a bit of a hipster (i.e. not me), then Soho is a really great neighbourhood for you. Cute pubs and wine bars break up the boutiques and funky one-off stores that line the side-streets. Someone like me, rocking the aforementioned "bad hair-dirty sneakers" combo just doesn't seem to fit somehow. So I kinda kept moving through Soho, past the restaurant accessory wholesale places of Little Italy and ended up in Bowery where I totally don't belong. There is a really 'cool' vibe that punctuates Bowery and it's not even a particularly nice part of the city - but I can see what attracts people to it. A slower pace, less traffic, great street art (some of it even in development as I wandered around), and lots of cute little organic coffee shops and brunch spots. Anyway I scooted out of Bowery pretty quickly, but not before giving a gaggle of real NY tourists some directions to the Empire State Building. I know, me giving directions?! The world is totally nuts.

2nd Avenue was having a kind of street fair down in the East Village and I checked out some of the stalls. There are really creative people that exhibit in these street fairs I think, but I really didn't need to buy anything that they were selling - except for the guy with beautifully cold pineapple pieces - those I had to have.

I contemplated stopping for a glass of wine just so I could sit outside and enjoy the sunshine, and possibly read a couple more chapters of the truly terrible Sweet Valley Confidential book that I am battling through. A lot of the outdoor cafes and bars on 2nd Avenue were pretty full already around that time, so I abandoned the wine idea and just kept walking home, soaking up the sun the whole way.

The weather dude on the radio assured me that tomorrow will give me the same sort of climatic conditions that I enjoyed today. So here's to rocking the bad hair and dirty sneakers two days in a row!

What's the buzz?

What is it about people and celebrities? What prompts otherwise normal people to turn into pushers & shovers just to inch ever closer to the Secretary-General of the United Nations; and/or singer and actress Mandy Moore? These were the questions that plagued me tonight at the launch of the Champions to End Malaria photo exhibition at the United Nations.

Today is World Malaria Day, so the launch of the exhibition was very timely. I was out of sorts from the start of course, having sat on a wet bus seat that gave the unfortunate impression that I'd soiled myself en route to the exhibition. Sometimes I really hate my life. I don't even know what I'd sat on, and I really don't want to know, but the upside was that my dress didn't smell as a result and in any case, I was fortunately able to dry my dress off under the hairdryers in the UN bathroom. I still shake my fist at whomever dampened my seat in the first place. Curses!

I attended the UN photo exhibition solo, wandering around and viewing the photos and reading the really inspirational stories about the subjects who had made simple yet truly effective inroads into eradicating malaria from developing nations around the world. How easy it sounds to buy insecticide-covered mosquito nets to protect families from the horrible mosquitos. How admirable it is to hear about the young children who had been inspired by the fight against malaria, to draw the world's attention & fundraising efforts to the disease. How proud the Secretary-General obviously is of all the hard work that individuals, NGOs and Governments are doing to make their mark.

But how nauseating it is to watch seemingly sensible people basically run each other over trying to get photos with these celebrity philanthropists. Why can't people just applaud their efforts, have their glass of wine and go home? Promise me that if ever I chase a celebrity down, you whip me with a wet towel. Promise me!

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!