Day 4 - A sunny day full of WASPs.

Starting the day bright and early, ready to conquer the Big Apple, my Aunt Mona and I made our way to the Upper East Side - so she could go to work, and I could discover how New Yorker WASPs live. And no I don't mean the flying black and yellow bugs that can sting you without dying. For those of you who don't know what a WASP is, it stands for White Anglo-Saxon Protestant - they roam the upper echelons of American society and choose the Upper East Side to build their nest. No wonder one can only find luxury stores such as Berdorf Goodman, Bloomingdales, Barney's, Louis Vuitton and other couture boutiques in the area. Having heard Bergdorf's mentioned in at least every second episode of Will & Grace (I must tell you know that all my prior New York knowledge stems purely from movies and TV shows), I decided to stroll in and see what the fuss is all about.





Barely 5 minutes in and I was charmed and led away to a salesman in the Bulgari corner. Now don't think for a second that I'm a naïve shopper. I live in London and if there's anything I perfected in, apart from shoving my way into the tube and shouting curses at tourists foolishly loitering in the middle of Oxford Street, is dodging the charm of a sales person. However this time I could not. Perhaps it was the fact that I was now the typical naïve tourist, who loses IQ points with every country separating tourist from home. But I'd like to think this was due to the rarely-mentioned New Yorker charm. Bollocks to the tales of the 'New Yorker attitude'. If there is anything that I have learned so far from my trip is that the attitude in European cities makes New Yorkers look like Mother Teresa. Their charm is more toxic than their bark. A further five minutes later and this salesman had me beginning to believe that I really did need that $195 Bulgari moisturiser because having diamond dust is great for my face. Like a sailor hypnotised by the Sirens' song, I was captured by this utterly useless and unnecessary product. But then logic rang out in my head like Orpheus' lute and I sped out of there as fast as I could before I could do any financial damage to myself and my dear parents.

It wasn't long before I was lured into the very bowels of Tourneau, a luxury watch-retailer where I had hoped they could revive the Armani watch my parents gave to me as a graduation gift.

'That would be 15 dollars without tax ma'am.'

I gave the salesman a look of disbelief. I reluctantly nodded and seated myself on their velvet couch. I looked up at the salesman again and this time he gave me the 'kabayan' look. Fifteen minutes later he walked up to me with my watch in hand.

'Here you go Miss. Have a nice day.'
'But - You.. Ok.'

Rescued again by one of my brethren I took my watch and proceeded with my Upper East Side odyssey, which led me to Abercrombie and Fitch, its lair guarded by half-naked male beauties. The mere sight of it was comical. There was a bloody queue for A&F reaching all the way around the corner. Like a members-only club in Mayfair, male models manned the entrance like Whiskey Mist bouncers, letting one in and one out at a time. Queueing for a mediocre shop, with mediocre products, with mediocre design for stupidly high prices? I think I'll join the 'I'm-not-a-sucker' queue' please. Onwards to the Apple Store at 59th and 5th. Squealing like a little school girl in the Willy Wonka-esque glass elevator I descended towards something better than a Chocolate factory - Apple in the Big Apple, meaning CHEAP. Cruising along from iPad to iPod I dragged myself out of Geekville to Bookwormville at Barnes & Noble at 86th and Lexington.

Books, glorious books! How I love Barnes & Noble. Although it looked like the regular super bookstore it had the vibe of the local library. People sitting cross-legged with books and papers sprawled across the floor, study groups gathered at a coffee table… It had the size and the selection of Waterstones but lacked any of the pretention British bookstores have. People were reading books they haven't purchased on the carpeted floor… and they were not being told off! So I filled my basket with books, sat cross-legged on the floor with my Frappucino and read my heart out. Not bad New York, not bad at all.

Trip to the Sleepless City - Day 1, The journey

Already at a high level of stress and tension because of Expedia's botch-up, I still managed to get myself together and haul my ass and its many belongings to the airport. Flying transatlantic for the first time on my own I felt scared, excited and ready. Thankfully there were no problems when we first arrived at the airport. I got my boarding passes, checked in my bags and gave my folks a hearty farewell and flew off over the English channel to London, my city, my stop-over. I was elated but my bubble was soon to be burst by Continental Airlines security checks. When I was issued my new passport several years ago, my embassy informed me that I would not need a visa to visit the US because our new passports were biometric. Stupid Austrian embassy.

'So you're flying into Newark?'
'Yes.'
'Did you fill out an ELSA form?'
'A what?'

Turns out this Visa waiver agreement the States has with Europe requires you to fill out an online application form. Simple solution to this: whip out laptop, use airport WiFi, all is fixed. Sadly this was not the case. I left my laptop at home because I was intending to buy a new one in New York (the one I'm typing this on now waheeyyy). Crap. Solution number two: find an Internet café, fill out form and PRESTO. Problem solved… NOT. I stupidly thought it would be wise to leave my Sterling behind to stop me from buying things at Heathrow airport. So I had to pay a 3 GBP minimum using my credit card… No big deal. BUT I was slapped in the face by another bill when I had to pay $14 to process my application. After the adrenaline rush died down, the waiting began. Three hours, zero books, zero pounds, and zero battery. So traumatised and tired was I by all this I couldn't even begin to grasp the fact that I was flying to the States for the first time in over 10 years. It wasn't until I flicked through multiple plastic surgery, weight loss and dating ads with a Carrie Underwood medley playing in the background that it hit me… Hell yes, I'm flying to the States!

There is definitely one thing I've got to give Continental Airlines credit for: their amazing playlist (expect to hear bluesy jazz and the earlier and greater works of N'Sync) and the frequency of their meals and snacks - not to mention their great collection of movies on demand. Full, entertained and tapping my feet I could hardly contain my excitement.

'We are now flying into Newark'

I peered out the window. You know how when you usually fly into a city it looks like a big cluster or an island of lights surrounded by a sea of darkness? Well Newark from above looked completely different. There were sporadic bits of light… kind of like gazing at the stars, sans the neck pain.

Finally off the plane with luggage in tow I headed out to the arrivals area equipped with the US mobile my father so obligingly bestowed upon me, but omgPANIC. It didn't work. How on Earth would I reach my Aunt and cousin? I tried to use a pay phone, only to realise that I am an incompetent twat who barely remembers the methods of communication before mobiles, and that I foolishly did not know how on earth to dial a US number. Stuck in an almost empty airport with New Jersey hoodlums parking up front and giving me death stares I frantically began BBMing my little sister regardless of the insane time difference. I thought all was lost until I heard it… Tagalog. KABAYAN. I spun around to find two Filipino airport workers behind me.

'Hi. Could I please use your mobile to ring my Tita? I am lost and I'm scared.'

Thank God for the Filipino compadre mentality. They not only lent me a mobile, but dearest Paolo (from Bacolod) brought me to the other arrivals section and scouted out for my cousin because he did not want to leave me alone before all the airport staff left. Then almost as if on cue, my cousin Marsha appeared with Paolo.

After giving Marsha a big hug and feeling a mixture of relief and happiness I turned to Paolo to wave goodbye.

'I'm sure I'll see you again. It's a small world. Remember… next time you see anyone who needs help like this, go help them!'
I sure will Paolo. It's people like you that make me proud to be Filipino.