Day 9 and 10 - I Heart NY

After having shopped to my heart's content in Jersey City outlets and using up all the credit on my US phone to pay one last phone call to all my NY peeps before I headed back to Euroland, I had not really done much in the last 2 days of my American adventure. I caught up on sleep, had my first salad after a week of pure grease, and had a few last minute catch-ups with family and family friends near the area. Sitting in my room in my aunt's Jersey City flat thinking about my imminent trip back to Vienna then London I couldn't help but wish I didn't have to.

Sure thing, my one week stint in New York may not seem like enough time for the average person to fall head over heels in love with a city - but call me a romantic, call me cheesy or a dirty cheat, because fact is I've cheated on London with New York and I liked it. LOVED IT.

Farewell U. S. of A. Till later NYC. No doubt we will reunite soon and our next meeting will be ten times better than the last.

Day 3 - A day in the Garden State

Completely wiped out by an overdose of crazy the previous day, we decided to spend the beginning of our day shopping in Jersey City. Sure Manhattan is eclectic and filled with enough thrift stores, luxury boutiques and department stores to make any girl's heart soar, but New Jersey has one pretty big advantage… NO TAX. You know usually when you pick up a top or something and it costs 15 GBP, that's what you pay at the counter. Not in New York darling. The price tag may say $15 but then a 8.871% tax is added to the total when you buy it. Strange indeed. Fortunately New Jersey hasn't adopted this odd tradition so I stuffed my bag with my wallet, my cards and set off to Marshalls for some serious retail therapy.

My jaw dropped at the unbelievably cheap prices. A Calvin Klein dress for $50, Ralph Lauren shoes for $25, Michael Kors pumps for $50… What?! How?! We were like women possessed. We got so carried away with our shopping, it wasn't until 4pm when we realised we needed to eat something before we passed out. In spite of hunger, dehydration, exhaustion and terrible weather, we were in high spirits and managed to drag ourselves and our shopping to the Popeye's nearby. My Aunt Mona and Marsha have praised about Popeye's chicken to me before and having had to endure KFC meals every Sunday because my Dad and my dog will it, I was definitely capable of making a comparison between 'good' and 'bad' deep-fried, nutrient-stripped, junk food chicken. And the result? Popeye's is pretty damn good and tastes a lot less unhealthy that its counterpart KFC. It was so good we stuffed ourselves in about 10 minutes flat.

After having scoffed down enough chicken to make any meat-eater want to be a vegetarian, we braved through the rain back home and had a long-deserved power nap before making it back to the Big Apple to drop Marsha off at her bus stop. Thank goodness our exposure to the rain was minimal because Tito Ago, my Aunt Mona's dear friend, offered to drive us into the city. We then made a quick stop at New York's 'Shake Shack' on 86th and Lexington, supposedly where the best burgers in New York are made. And oh my they were right. Even thinking of the taste now makes me salivate like one of Pavlov's dogs. Sadly after my first culinary experiences in NYC, Marsha and I had to part our ways. It left me feeling quite sad but I hope we get to hang around again in New York and perhaps try some of their mouth-watering steaks.

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.