New York City. The city that never sleeps. And doesn't that ring true at 4am, curled in a fetal position under two layers of blankets, one hand over each ear and eyes squeezed tightly shut while car alarms blare through the night. Easily forgiven with the discovery of a red-eye in the morning. Red-eye: a "coffee" that consists of a shot of espresso, filled to the top with coffee. Unbelievably strong, potent, and necessary after a night of little sleep; it's a rough transition from the Sooke hills in B.C, where the only night time sound might be a dog barking down the street. At least dogs tire of barking. Car alarms, however, have a surprisingly long battery life.
Enough of that though.
New York! What a crazy town this is. Since getting over my fear of looking like a tourist, I've been taking pictures non-stop! There are so many layers to this city, two blocks in any direction takes you to an entirely new facet of Manhattan life. From where my mum has her little apartment in Greenwich Village, it's an easy walk to SoHo, NoHo (ha ha ha), East Village, West Village, Union Square, Avenue of the Americas....it goes on. The first day here we hopped on the subway down to Pier 17 which is right next to the Brooklyn Bridge, and also not far from the site of the World Trade Centre. I have to say, it was bizarre visiting St. Paul's Cathedral, which is the church very near the World Trade Centre, where there was a large civilian effort to aid the 9/11 aftermath. It should be a memorial area with shrines and dedications and reminders of the day, however when we went it was packed wall-to-wall with tourists and people taking flash photography. There is no easier way to ruin the sanctity of such a place than to pack it with people who don't understand the significance of the peace it represents.
Yesterday we headed down to SoHo to Mulberry street where there is an up-and-coming designers market on Saturdays and Sundays. There was a mix of vintage and new, edgy and alternative clothing and accessories. I restricted myself to a bracelet and a necklace but could have bought a lot more. From SoHo we jumped on the subway to Grand Central Station to meet Tommy, Francoise, Ines and Scott (our friends from Paris who happened to be in NYC for the long weekend) at the Oyster bar. The Oyster Bar, which is inexplicably closed on Sundays...so, like any writer would, my mum suggested we try the Algonquin Hotel for lunch--a famous hotel where many writers and poets, like John Steinbeck, have spent hours funneling creative energy into bottles of scotch. Unfortunately the Algonquin seemed a little too posh for our lively company so we decided instead to find mum's "Russian"place. Six blocks turned into ten blocks, turned into sixteen blocks...and two and a half miles later, after circling four blocks two times, we arrived at Uncle Vanya's. Needless to say, Uncle Vanya's looked as dilapidated from the outside as any novel by Chekhov might imply. Inside was very small, though not quite cosy, and completely empty. They actually brew their own vodka there, which we didn't try because mum insisted it is far too lethal for daytime. They had five flavours though--cranberry, lemon, chili pepper, garlic and horseradish...another time. The food was actually quite good and we came to the conclusion that the place is probably owned by some branch of the mafia because of their lack of concern over whether or not they have customers.
My foot is now a unique blend of purple, black and blue, very puffy and very inflexible. I went for a swim this morning which didn't help much...but in the persistence of new-found optimism, I am positive that it is getting better.
One last question before I venture out into the rainy day. Why is there a condom dispenser in the toilets in the duty-free zone of Victoria airport? Is this to encourage safe sex while joining the mile-high club?
Answers please.