Bright Lights, Big Sister

(Thanks to Ross and Leigh for letting me do a guest post on their blog! - Kelly)

When they introduced fingerprinting at American airports Michael swore he would never set foot on US soil again.  (He says he’s protesting but I reckon he’s on the lam).  I looked at my Empire State Building postcard and sighed.  I watched the new Sex and the City movie and wept (and not just because it was so appallingly bad).  Protest Schmotest, I wanted to go to New York!  And then it happened.  Someone with more influence over Michael than me (his boss) said, ‘You’re going to New York to schmooze some customers.  Protest on your own time.’

Now, obviously it would have been remiss of me as the dutiful wife I am, to let my husband go off on his lonesome to the big city.  So I self-sacrificingly offered to tag along, y’know, in case he needed someone to iron his shirts, file his paperwork, do lots of sightseeing, that kind of thing.

The bonus was I got to visit my big wee brother & Co, but no one who’s ever met me would believe that I wouldn’t have leapt at the chance anyway.

Thoughts on New York:

I saw a lot of people singing.  On the subway.  To themselves.  And arguing.  Across subway station platforms, park paths and pavements.  And crying.  In restaurants.  And collapsing in the street (he was ok).  I suppose if you’re going to wait for a quiet, private place to have a conversation/argument you’ll be waiting forever so people just go for it in public.  It’s quite strange.  At home we just don’t do that.  And we’re fairly quietly spoken.  I don’t think anyone in New York could physically hear me.  The people have no shame whatsoever.  Whereas at home we have shame for breakfast.  And lunch.  And dinner.  Probably that’s too much shame.

I love that a city as cynical as New York pretty much worships the Musical.  Irish people have a fear of musicals.  We’re terrified of the kind of emotional intensity that would cause a person to spontaneously burst into song. 

I am constantly stunned by breakfasts in New York.  I know it’s kind of silly to be standing beside the Empire State Building yelling, ‘Wow!  French Toast!’ but it’s really quite impressive.  You can get ANYTHING.  ANYWHERE. 

Cookie the size of my head.  For breakfast.

What I did on my holidays:

As soon as we arrived we headed for Bryant Park, where we drank cold beers while giggling like maniacs about the fact that neither of us was wearing a jumper. 

‘I’m like not even cold!!!’

‘Me neither!!!’

‘Look, no goosebumps!!!’

We may have been a bit drunk.  Blame the jetlag.

Bryant Park is amazing.  They have free juggling lessons most days, free knitting lessons, free books in the Reading Room section of the park, free readings by authors, free music recitals, and our first night there they did Love’s Labour’s Lost on the lawn. 

Shakespeare in the Park

On Sunday we hired bikes in Central Park (the bikes had no brakes, you have to pedal backwards) which was a brilliant way to see a bit of the Park.  We stopped at Strawberry Fields, the Lennon memorial right opposite the Dakota building where he was shot and where Yoko still lives.  There are no Strawberries.  It’s actually just a big plaque on the ground with ‘Imagine’ on it.  Maybe you’re supposed to imagine something a bit more impressive.

After that we visited Hoboken to see Ross and Leigh and had dinner.  Their apartment is great and Hoboken looks like a really nice place to live (Not jealous at all).  The kids have gone all blonde and they seem bigger already and Alfie looked like he’d coped better with the flight than us.  It was lovely to see them and I was really sad to say goodbye.  The downside of being the first ones out to see them is that I probably won’t see them again for a couple of years (sniff).

Ben entertaining the residents of Hoboken

On Sunday night we went to Washington Square, which featured an impressive array of buskers, including this guy:

He was later joined by a brilliant singer who did everything from ‘Let’s get it on’ to ‘Hit me Baby One More Time’ and pulled Michael out of the crowd to help him with ‘Billy Jean’.  Michael was very brave and did the Michael Jackson moves and everything.

Michael entertaining Washington Square

On Monday Michael had to work and I was let loose in the city on my own.  I headed straight for the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  I was there when they opened the doors at 10 and they had to chuck me out at 5.30 and I didn’t see half of it.  Between the Met and MOMA I think I’ve seen every work of art you’ve every heard of and about a million you haven’t.  Pretty damn cool.

View from the roof of the Met

That night we went to the open air cinema in Central Park with Ross and Leigh because they were showing Big.  There were 5,500 people on picnic blankets on the lawn (eating free popcorn) and when Tom Hanks played the piano in FAO Schwartz they all cheered.

Big on the big screen

On Tuesday I went slightly mental over the New York bookstores.  I found the most fantastic second hand one called the Housing Works.  It’s a charity supporting people with HIV/AIDS in the city and it’s all staffed by volunteers. 

Then I went to the Strand Bookstore, which has the tagline “18 miles of books!” and has new, second hand and collectible stock.

But my favourite might have been Books of Wonder, a huge bookstore entirely devoted to children’s books.  This is their ‘antiquarian’ section alone (took this for you, Helen, you’d have had a field day!)

Books of Wonder

I was very restrained and only bought 9 books the whole week.  Plus a book satchel from the Strand.

Tuesday night we saw a play called This Is Our Youth, starring the guy from Juno and Macauley Culkin’s wee brother (I’m not good with names).  It was pretty funny. 

This is Our Youth stage set

On Wednesday morning I went to the Union Square food market and watched the dog walkers while I ate a sandwich.  I’m assuming they’re paid dog walkers, not owners, because if you own an apartment big enough to house two Labradors, lets face it, you’re not wandering round Union Square in shorts on a Wednesday morning; you’re in Wall Street earning money to buy designer dog food and pay dog walkers.  But I did see a husky with its owner.  They had very similar hair. 

Also went to the New York Public Library on Wednesday.  The mother ship.  I guess it’s a little bigger than my library.  With a few more priceless works of art.  It’s unfair to compare them really because my library has been recently done up and has lovely rubber floors and metal shelves.  How could the New York Public Library compete?  Basically I was unimpressed, as my dumb silence will testify.  They had a cool exhibition of children’s books from the 1700s to the present day (Helen, you really have to go to New York).

On Wednesday night we went to the Upper East Side where I pretended to be a Park Avenue princess.  I saw tiny dogs, I saw botox.  I saw designer handbags, doormen, and plastic surgeons.  We went to a tiny bar called ‘Earl’s Beer and Cheese’ which was honest to God the best food I’ve ever eaten.  And it was only Mac n Cheese.  They brew their own beer and mine was described as ‘tart cherry’ flavour.  It was pretty good.  We met a strange man there who told us he was “probably one of the best writers of his generation” but now he’s making films and he’s been sober twelve years, since Marianne Faithful told him to quit drinking.  Then he downed half a pint of extremely strong home brewed stout. 

You’d think I’d been away for a year.  I’m having actual culture shocks.  Here are some of the things I’ve found myself thinking since we got back from New York:

• God, it’s so quiet here
• Wow, my garden is HUGE
• What do you mean you don’t have the exact brand of mayo I want?
• Where can I get breakfast today?  Oh…right…the kitchen.  Bummer.
• Are the emergency services having a night off?
• Shouldn’t there have been 30 ad breaks in this show by now?
• Could you speak up?  Maybe shout at me?
• Look, there’s a parking space!
• There’s another one!
• I’m bored.

But mainly: ‘When can we go back?’

Times Square is mental