Who doesn't heart New York?

Money money money

I don't do it much, but for at least part of last night I slept with my arms above my head.  When you wake up they are all floppy and devoid of all sensory feeling.  It is initially fun to flop them round a bit though, I've got to admit that.  Once I woke up in the same situation, and for 5 disorienting seconds I actually thought my arms were gone.  It's frightening actually, to think your precious limbs have turned to stumps.

Snootsville Central

Speaking of too much plastic work

We were staying in a hotel on the Upper East side - officially the snooty area of NYC.  Our hotel was certainly that.  We had some special free nights deal with our credit card, which made it a good solution to stay there.  Plus with Chalks away on a business trip, we thought snobby, rather than grunge was probably a better option for traipsing the streets.  We also didn't realise just how snobby it actually was.  The hotel was famous for being the secret rendezvous for JFK and Marilyn Monroe, while other various celebs are also said to have stayed there - like Princess Diana(!!).  To those people holding on to such claims of fame - I say to you - they are all dead now so get over yourselves.  Honestly.  Also Woody Allen plays clarinet there on Monday nights, but if you want to see it, it will cost you 185 bucks.  Jesus, I don't like Woody that much - or the clarinet for that matter.  Again I say to hotel management - get over it.

It's annoying to have a lift controller.  You have to make conversation before you ask for a coffee every morning.  Plus all the waiters were up themselves.  I was close to saying "Do you realise that you're a waiter?  - not a English country manor Lord?".  It was so quiet in the breakfast room you could hear people's newspapers crumple.  I looked so out of place there, that people kept mistaking me for the nanny - although Valli and Cord looked like scumbags too, so I'm not sure why they assumed we weren't related by blood.  Half the room were sour-faced women with too much plastic work, all wrapped up in furs and leather.  The other half were old men talking about foreign politics like they were controlling third world economies (they probably were).   I promise I'm not complaining - although according to an "inside source" I am officially a spoilt brat.  I can live with that......saying how great life is doesn't make for an interesting chunk of text though, now does it? - complaining is where it's at - especially considering I'm in New York - who doesn't bitch non stop here?  Due to being up all night, on my own with no sleep, I was as shitty as all hell despite my sumptuous surroundings.  I must admit though, the hotel itself was gorgeous 1920s art deco style  - it's just it wasn't the place to be hanging out with two extremely jet-lagged children with a shocking case of the whines every morning, and who have been awake since 10pm the night before.  Or how about that before realising coffee's were not included in the breakfast package and $9 each, I ordered two - and then had to give two tips on top of this - one for the chief server (Lord Farque) and one for his bumboy (Geeves).

Not bad for a torture cell

I'll take the lot

It was the worst case of jet lag on record.  Sleeping all day and awake all night long for almost a week.  I even tried drugging them with Phernergen (it didn't work- the jet lag was resistant), and then completely freaked myself out after doing extensive research on the net at 3am about all the deaths in under fives that have been linked to the shit.  I threw out the bottle and spent the next 24 hours being racked with guilt.  I used to walk them outside during the day trying to get them to stay awake so at least they could sleep just a little bit overnight - Valli actually fell asleep while walking, and kept tripping over, waking up, and howling until she fell asleep again.  This cycle went on for some time.  Cordi had already fallen asleep at the fairy wings cafe despite me stuffing her with a heavily iced cupcake in a desperate attempt to stop her crashing out at the table.  Eventually I had two of them completely wasted, slung over my shoulders, trying to get a taxi in the rain - no one would stop for me.  It was crazy.

Which one to choose......

Doing my best in a cotton shirt

Did I mention it was freezing?  Seven degrees and I of course had left every piece of warm clothing I owned at The Park Hotel in Tokyo.  Top move.  At least I had brought the girl's jackets or there would have been issues.  I dragged them to The Children's Museum of Manhattan one day - it was chaos.  I have never seen so many kids in my life compressed into one small area.  I kept losing Valli, and spotting her in random areas, sliding out of some giant face down a large tongue.  It was surreal. Then they would fall asleep in an awkward place and I would have to bail quickly.  Despite my best efforts, they would be up the entire night, every night.  And starving.  You can imagine room service wasn't the cheapest either.  Did I mention the incident when Valli upended an entire bowl of salsa on the white doona cover?  The only thing to do while they were awake all night was turn on the TV where kids shows ran 24/7.  Jesus Christ.  If I ever have to watch another episode of Dora I will slit my wrists.

LES street art

But it always ends.  By this stage my sweet beloved was back with us, and we had a day together before we set off again bound for Brazil.   Or so we thought.  As we checked in, I prepared to chuck away the girl's filthy cheap jackets, and celebrate the anticipated delight that I no longer had to be freezing - then the check in lady uttered those dreaded words "So lets see your visas".  We didn't even know you had to have them.  So of course we had no visas.  And it was good Friday, which meant the Brazilian Consulate didn't even open until Monday.  Plus could we even get 4 points tickets again?  We had booked these seats 6 months ago.  But miracles happen, and we all got points tickets in all the way to Sao Paulo for the following Thursday.  And I could think of worse places to be stuck than NYC for a week.  Plus the jetlag was nearing its end.......We found a new hotel - this time we went cool rather than snooty.  Those are the basic Manhattan hotel choices - cool or snooty.  You could always go slums too - but be aware - going for the slums in an already filthy city takes you to places you would prefer not to go.  

My sentiments exactly

It may be filthy (think of mass amounts of rubbish, giant rats that come out to feast on the garbage at night, and gutters full of unimaginable puddles of sess), but it sure is cool.  The type of grungy style that makes you love it all over again every time you visit.  No wonder everyone hearts NY.   I once saw a t-shirt that said "Go heart your own fucking city".  I liked it, but could never have got away with it seeing as I'm not even American let alone from the Big Apple.  And if anyone is curious about where the Big Apple nickname came from, it is not entirely clear but seems to stem from a horseracing term and "apple" referred to the many horse tracks around New York City.  Boring.  I like the hoax origins - which had something to do with a NY brothel owner named Eve.

It looked better all faded with some hot guy wearing it

Rust

Shine

Iconic

There's a lot of homeless people there.  It's actually heartbreaking.  I always have a few pockets of dollar bills just in case.  The homeless are picky.  Once I gave a dude a giant handful of various coins and he sneered at it, and said "I don't want your pennies".  Way to be choosy.....Once a homeless man came up to Chalky and said "Give me a hundred dollars".  Chalky gave him $2.50.  Then he said "Thanks very much, now you owe me 97 dollars and 50 cents".  I guess you've got to have a sense of humour.  It can't be easy though.  Poverty is rife, and it's in your face.  I saw a guy with a jacket made completely of strips of newspaper yelling random shit.  It would be better to be crazy.  It's the guys with the defeated looks and the gratitude when you give them almost nothing, that brings tears to my eyes.  What has happened in their lives that leads them to a life of sleeping in doorways and begging for change? Just a couple of bad decisions maybe - or possibly redundancy or addiction - who knows.  Although in America, homeless people belong to a community - even though it's a community of poverty stricken people.  Homeless people in Japan are always alone.  They are like ghosts.  Practically invisible, and completely irrelevant to those around them.  They never even ask for handouts.  At least the homeless Americans can for the most part still engage with others and live in the world, no matter how desperately.

Katz's Deli - another icon

Salami Cordi

It's a dog eat dog world out there in the most vibrant city in the world. It's interesting seeing the girls try and keep place in a NYC playground.  Those places are like microcosms of the city itself.  You have to be tough to survive.  Cordi doesn't handle it well.  She gets completely freaked out when random children shove her, or yell at her or even try to befriend her. If anyone shouts near her, she runs for cover.  Valli gives it a good shot.  She focuses on what she wants and goes for it no matter what.  She pushed others aside to get her place on the tyre swing - although she did end up with some kid's vomit on the knee of her pink stockings.  I'm not surprised - you can really get a twist happening on those things - so it's no shock that some kid took a techni-colored yawn.

Got 'em

Anyway, like I said - New York City is not a bad place to get stranded in while waiting for a visa.  We had ourselves quite the good time - got in touch with our old babysitter from when we lived here for a month when the girls were 10 months old - Sue from St Vincent - who introduced to the idea of going to Bequia, bless her heart.  Getting our Brazilian visas wasn't an easy task to achieve - birth certificates, notarised documents, postal money orders and hours of waiting around.  We were told to come back at 4pm the day of our departure (which was at 10.30pm that night).  So we did. However, the bitch that wrote 4pm down on our paper neglected to tell us that the office also closed at 4pm.  We arrived at 3.58pm.  We had to sign in, we bolted into the elevator and shot up to the 21st floor.  But the embassy doors were closed and the lights were off.  FUCK.  Not again.  We saw a young dude and explained our dilemma.  He was like "Sorry it's closed".  So we did the only thing two human beings devoid of self respect would do.  We begged.  Like pathetic idiots.  And guess what? - it worked.  He went back in the office, found some woman (who death-stared us), and then the two of them went searching for our visas.  They were found!!! Against the odds we had those fuckers clasped in our paws.  We were going to Brazil!!!!!!

Yippeeeeeeeeeeee!