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 7 - Leave the gun. Take the Cannoli.

'Leave the gun. Take the Cannoli.' - Clemenza, The Godfather Pt.1

TGIT -Thank goodness it's Thursday is the motto of the Manhattan-ites. I decided to have a little lie-in after the martini-fuelled night before and to prepare for the chaos that normally ensues on Manhattan Thursdays. Later in search for my caffeine fix I managed to crawl out of bed to the nearest Starbucks.

One thing that particularly struck me as true about New York is their thriving dating scene. I recall the countless times I'd be lazing on the couch with my best mates watching re-runs of Friends and Sex and the City and thinking: 'My god. This is such a far cry from reality. Who on earth would get chatted up in a lift, on the subway or in a coffee house?' Now I've realised (and must tell my girls post haste) that getting picked up in a place other than a bar or pub by a sober and seemingly sane man may only exist in fiction in Europe, but it's a pretty frequent occurrence in the Big Apple. On that note, it wasn't long until I had my first friendly chat-up in the Starbucks down the block.

'So this is your coffee?'
'Yep think so.'
'Did I spell your name correctly?'
'Uh yes...'
'It's a very pretty name. And I really like your hat.'
'Thanks'
'What are you up to today?'

In spite of the many friendly and seemingly normal male New Yorkers, there are of course the select freaks dotted around the city. I recall my first day in Times Square at the local pizzeria. His choice of pick-up line, Joey Tribiani's infamous: 'How you doin?'. Does that actually ever work? Sad to say that that unfortunately that wasn't enough to make me weak in the knees, so after a friendly dismissal I rushed to the corner to eat my pizza quietly and at a distance. Now remember how I had mentioned the danger of the New Yorker charm? Combine the deadliness of that with an irresistable Italian smile and you've got the gist of the men in Little Italy.



Being one of the biggest 'Godfather' fans known to mankind, I could not leave Manhattan without paying homage to the home of the Corleone family, especially with the San Gennaro festival going on. For the other Godfather fans out there this is the festival where Vito Corleone kills for the first time and also the time when Vincenzo guns down Joey Zaza - so YES it is an important time for a Godfather fan like me. I wandered down Mulberry St. past cigar stalls, pizza, cannoli and a few 'ciao bellisimas', hoping to find myself a Michael Corleone. Instead I found myself at the annual cannoli eating competition. Six minutes, six contestants and a truckload of cannolis. Who can eat the most in 6 minutes? To add to the excitement, Gianni Russo who plays Vito Corleone's godson (Johnny Fontane) in The Godfather attended as the cannoli-eating competition judge. Oh my god, oh my god... This probably the closest I'll get to the Corleone family EVER. I was torn between awe for Johnny Fontane and disgust for Fat Flash Gordon frantically shoving his 13th cannoli down his esophagus. Containing my disgust I rushed towards the stage after the competition to find Johnny. Yes yes I may sound like a bit of a groupie, but I'm sure my fellow Godfather-followers would've done the same. I shoved my way through the crowd and managed to shake hands and banter a little before having a picture taken with dearest Johnny Fontane. Made. My. DAY.





After all the hype I decided to cool myself off with a glass of Italian red and a real Italian-American pizza. Oh yes, another grease and fat-filled meal for me. When in New York, healthy eating just seems to fall by the wayside for me. And to add to my calorie-packed day, I thought I'd say ciao to Little Italy and head to Bleecker Street to try out the famous Magnolia Bakery muffins before heading out for the infamous Manhattan Thursday Nights.

Side note: I'll be posting another entry for Day 7 just because it was the longest most awesome day/night ever. Go figure... it's Manhattan Thursdays.

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.

Day 2 - Take me to Broadway

Being a theatre-lover and an ever loyal West End-follower there was nothing that I looked more forward to than being able to watch my first Broadway show ever and it was The Addams family that had the honour. So we hopped aboard the PATH train en route to 33rd Street… whatever that means.

Of all the countries I have ever been in, apart from the Philippines, I have never come across a more indecipherable public transport system. Sure the newer trains occasionally announce the stops and have a plan of the subway, but if you're one of the unlucky tourists who ends up on an old train you'd probably have no idea where on Earth you're headed to. Our destination was some numbered street located in between two numbered avenues on Broadway. Completely dumbfounded I just blindly followed my Aunt Mona and Marsha and occasionally nodded to at least pretend to be of some help in locating the theatre.

Wandering around Broadway and Times Square was a little like being in a Broadway musical yourself. A man dressed up as Superman prancing around to sell bags for $10. A half-naked man with a cowboy hat belting out country tunes with his arch nemesis stationed across the street, a half-naked cowgirl serenading curious male onlookers with country medleys of her own. Oh and how could I forget the group of young wannabe rappers freestyling on cue trying to sell their records to passersby. And I thought London was crazy. A bare 10 minutes in Times Square makes London look like an obedient Catholic school girl. This really is the urban jungle.



Struggling through the jungle past poisonous bag and ticket sellers, it wasn't long until we found it and were sat in our seats in the mezzanine (expect to pay over $120 to even think of sitting in the stalls). However in contrast to London's West End, theatres here are fairly small and so regardless of whether you're sat in the back of the mezzanine or the front of the stalls, you still get a very good view of everything. Unlike in London where I had to rent binoculars just so I could differentiate between the male and female characters on stage.

'Oh my god… this is my first Broadway show!'

Lights dimmed down and the curtain opened… Showtime. The Addams Family musical was nothing less than brilliant. It was funny, entertaining with an appropriate amount of darkness - enough for you to realise they're a pretty weird and sadistic family but not enough to destroy the light-hearted nature of Broadway. It was a great first Broadway experience, but how would I compare it to the West End you say? Well to be honest I think they're equally as good as each other. The only observable differences were that Broadway tickets are a lot more expensive and they have better seating. So which is better is for you to judge. Try them both out and tell me what you think. My heart is still singing a tale of two cities - London and New York.

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.