NYC - Day Two

By the way, before I start this, can I greatly recommend Picasa, a photo editing application that I believe is made by the fine people at Google. It is free to download and the easiest thing to use ever, especially when cutting up photo's and injecting them with the daylight that was missing on the day the photo was taken. A lot of my favourite New York photo's now look like we went on a beautiful spring day rather than the PISSING FREEZING WINTER.

Anyway....

The second day of our holiday was the first full day we were there and we were determined to make the most of it. We decided to view the sight seeing as a kind of working arrangement so we were out the hotel every day by 8.30, back by about 6 and then out again at 7 for the evening. This was exhausting by the end of the week especially with all the walking you have to do to get around the city, but I honestly think it was the best way of doing things, I certainly never went to bed thinking I could have done anything more in the day, and that meant I went home happy.
We had won the batle with the jet lag and discovered that our local subway station was Grand Central Station, which was very cool. Turns out GCS is a lot smaller than you'd expect and not a great tourist spot as it's in the middle of a huge office filled area so is very much a working train station not best equipped for camera happy tourists. Very pretty though, the light shines through the crescent windows into the main area in the middle just like in the black and white images you used to be able to buy in Athena. I miss Athena.

The subway was horrible, really, it's cramped, smelly and the trains are really old. They don't seem to be far enough underground either, you can walk over grates in the pavement above ground and see the tracks through them, very disconcerting when the train shoots by underneath your feet... We navigated our way through the ticket buying system with the help of a lovely American man, don't worry, he did work there, I wasn't just randomly targeting American men for help... We bought a 7 day 'Fun' pass, which allows you unlimited subway travel for 7 days and proves that American's do in fact understand irony. As the train departed it lurched forward and a little old man shouted "SHIT!" so I began to inwardly panic, as you would do, that kind of oh sweet lord I'm going to die on the subway in New York sort of panic, but luckily another man shouted "Hey! Dude! Get your fuckin' ass outta my fuckin' way!" and I realised that actually, this behaviour was clearly pretty normal and would probably not result in death by underground rail system.

It seemed like we were travelling the world one Starbucks at a time when we emerged, alive, from the subway and found the nearest place that sold hot, strong coffee. What's odd is that there seems to be no other coffee house establishment over there, you can buy drinks from various deli places but there is no Starbucks equivalent like Costa or anywhere similar, Starbucks - officially taking over the world...

I asked Glenn to get me tea and he, confused by the different teas available asked for a medium cup of 'earl grey awake chai', the lady behind the counter was so confused and I was desperate not to laugh as I said "sweetheart, it's like a menu system? Just the 'awake' kind please..."

We sat next to two girls who looked suspiciously student like but were betraying their intelligence by perfecting their Paris Hilton impressions, I listened to their conversation and silently vowed never to litter my vocabulary with unnecessary 'like's ever again. Glenn looked at me, leaned forward and whispered "if I had a gun right now...".

We were in the financial district, the subway stops either right next to Ground Zero or one stop before it, at City Hall. We decided to get off at City Hall and have a look at that (big. old. City Hall like) and then have aforementioned earl grey awake chai before we made the final decision as to whether or not to visit Ground Zero. The truth is, if you're in that part of town, you can't really avoid it, New York is not that big and the financial destrict is just one part of it and the World Trade Centre was a huge part of that so how ever you end up near there you can't miss it. It's a huge, huge hole, no news footage or photographs I have ever seen had captured the sheer size of the footprint the terror attacks left in the city. We didn't take photo's, I couldn't justify that, after all, what are you taking a photo of if you do? We went into St Paul's Chapel which is one of the oldest pre-civil war buildings in the city and remarkably survived the attacks despite it's close proximity to the site. The chapel became a refuge for rescue workers during the aftermath and now has a tribute display to those who died and those who worked through it. I think that helped for me, you can't help but get emotional when you see the footage again, especially when you're standing where it happened but the tribute in the chapel really emphasises how people in the city came together in the following days and pays tribute to the strength of the human spirit. The fences that surround the site have placards telling you what happened on September 11th, they have included the names of the people who died on the aeroplanes that crashed and in the Pentagon. I'm not being dramatic when I say the feeling around the world trade centre site (that's what New Yorkers prefer that you call it, they find 'ground zero' offensive) is different from anywhere else, it's much quieter and I wasn't comfortable staying for long.

So we trekked to Battery Park after buying me a stupid woolley hat from Century 21 and went to the Jewish History Museum. There really isn't much I can say about that, you are either interested in the history of the Jews or you aren't. It's a very big and very expensive looking museum that tells you everything you ever wanted to know about Jewish history, the Jewish faith and culture, and the Holocaust. I have been fascinated by Judaism since I read 'My name is Asher Lev' by Chaim Potok for a module I took at Uni called American Jewish Fiction, so for me it was great but you know, if you've never given a toss then don't go. The Jewish History Museum - Does exactly what it says on the tin.

Side Bar - My sister asked me to buy her a 'I heart NY' T.Shirt, the museum had one that said it in Yiddish, I soooo wanted to buy her that.... The look on her face would have been worth anything it cost. Glenn wouldn't let me. Because he is a grumpus.

Favourite part of Glenn's day so far - The hot dog at the cafe in the Jewish museum that overlooked the Stature of Liberty and Ellis Island, and let me make that clear, his favourite part of that was the hot dog, not the view.

We took some advice then and instead of queuing up for the ferry to Liberty Island (Wow! $15 so I can freeze my arse off walking around the Statue of Liberty? Oh Goody!) we took the FREE ferry to Staten Island which passes very, very close to the Statue and best of all, HAS A ROOF! I sent Glenn outside to take photo's (which is probably why my mum has given him a new nickname; 'Poor Glenn') and we watched Manhatten Island get smaller and smaller. When the ferry got to Staten Island we were at a bit of a loss, I mean, what's on Staten Island? So we got off the ferry, walked across the harbour and then I said, for I believe the first time, something which was to become my catchphrase throughout the holiday; "Where the FUCK are we going? Because it is TOO BLOODY COLD to be just walking around AIMLESSLY, I am just. fucking. FREEZING!", so Glenn made an excellent judgement and we got back on the ferry to Manhatten. I think he bases these judgements largely on how wide I open my eyes when I am shouting at him, when the veins begin to bulge it's time to move on.

Manhatten looked amazing on the way back though, the skyline is like every movie set in New York you've ever seen, only better.

The next thing I've written in the diary is - 'back to hotel, freshen up, go to Madison Square Garden to watch New York Knicks vs. Atlanta.... something.....'.

The Atlanta Hawks! We went to Richard and Catherine's apartment on Madison Avenue (so. incredibly. jealous.) and then headed to the garden (as they call it in NYC, oh yeah), it was so cool! I was a total arse! Screaming and yelling and basketball is soooooo much better than football, I mean I know I hate football (more with every passing match of the fucking day, and that's false advertising by the way, it's not one match, it's like 15 or something, I will grow old and die while match of the day is on) but it's better, it's faster, they score every couple of minutes and every time they do the whole stadium goes wild! I have never seen a basketball game in my life before and I hold no allegance to any team but for that night I was a Knicks fan, as I was in New York, and I went mental. Each basket (not penalty) is worth 3 points and the final score was something like Knicks 111, Hawks 108 after three lots of extra time so it was really nerve racking and when the Knicks won, I nearly lost my head I was so happy.

I have also decided that when I grow up I want to be a cheer leader because they are AWESOME, the Knicks have the Knicks City Dancers. And I love them. Half time entertainment was Biddy Ball, where 2 teams of under 10's played a very short match, which must be such a thrill for them, in a packed Madison Square Garden for goodness sake! and there was a proposal on the big screen and people dancing in front of the camera's. They just really know how to entertain, it was a really, really good night.

By the way, America, Land of the Free, is also Land of the Commercial. The game was brought to us by a Multiple Sclerosis charity and Biddy Ball was brought to us by Malaria.

Glenn let us get a cab back to the hotel, which he hardly ever did all week because we had our 'Fun' passes and "why should we pay twice to get somewhere?", so that's a whole other reason why the 'Fun' passes WERE NOT FUN AT ALL, but I have to say, hailing a cab on Madison Avenue? Oh My God, just the biggest dream come true.

Those of you who don't particularly enjoy hearing about icky diseases should just stop reading...... NOW.

This afternoon I had an appointment to see my consultant gynaecologist, the one who filled my stomach full of gas, poked a hole through my belly button, stuck a camera in there and then moved my ovaries without permission so he could look behind them.

I fear him.

I told him things that I don't want to tell you and he asked me questions that I don't want to tell you and I gave him answers that I don't want to tell you and all in all it was a fun conversation! He examined me.... I yelped, and not in a good way.

All in all it boils down to this, he first examined me 2 years ago, and after the laparoscopy, he diagnosed me with moderate to severe endometriosis. Then just over a year ago, after 3 months of Prostap and HRT, he reduced the diagnosis to just moderate and advised I stay on the Prostap for another 6-9 months. Today he said that after examination, the disease has come back with avengeance and I'm straight past moderate and into the far side of severe. I wish this was just something I was dramatically over playing to get a reaction, or attention, or whatever people who pretend to be worse off than they are do it for, but I'm not. He is referring me to another consultant at another hospital, who will, in his words "try and cut it out". So I'm on another waiting list, for another operation.

Through all this, I'm very aware that no operation does anything to stop the progression of this disease, that all they can do is hold it back with medication (tried that) or cut out what it produces (apparently about to try that).

Did you see that documentary about a little village where adults with special needs live together? (IT'S SLIPPY JOHN!) And there was that man who could only ask questions, he couldn't hold a conversation, if you asked him a question he would only say a colour in answer?

Today is not black, I would not go that far, I don't have special needs or live in a special village, but it's certainly blue.

NYC - Day One

These daily diary entries are a bit bitty, some are longer than others but I thought I would start to wade through the confusion and try and share with you a little of out New York adventure.

I will begin with photographic evidence as shown above. That there is the Chrysler Building, and the photo is taken from the top of the Empire State Building, which by the way, is much more stable than the Eiffel Tower. No shaking in time with the wind up there, no, just sheer terror at the how the cars are so very teeny tiny, all the way down the 86 floors you've just travelled up.

Anyway, that was later, this is supposed to be day one, and day one was all about getting there. We flew with Virgin Atlantic and had the smoothest check in ever thanks to their online check in service which you can use 12 hours before departure. We boarded the plane, avoiding the stairs up to the section marked 'not for the likes of you'. Glenn was VERY excited about the onflight entertainment and spent the first half an hour reading the film guide while I studied every last detail of the safety manual - 'TAKE OFF HEELED SHOES', 'EMERGENCY EXITS TO THE REAR AND CENTRE', 'OXYGEN MASKS WILL DROP FROM ABOVE', I had already sent messages to my nearest and dearest and was sat, seat belt fastened, ready to die.

Then we moved seats because my TV thingy didn't work, and that was fine because the strange too-old-to-be-a-goth-but-was-a-goth man next to Glenn kept talking to him and if there's anything Glenn doesn't appreciate, it's being talked to. So I repositioned myself, tightened the seat belt again and sat, ready to die.

And then I didn't die, which was surprising, instead I watched The Constant Gardner (brilliant), Prime (not so brilliant) and The Exorcism of Emily Rose (just really awful). The best part was being able to choose which variety of tasteless airline food I could have and THE FREE PRETZELS, that came in very tasteful american style packaging, which reliably informed us they were made in County Durham.

We arrived bang on time at JFK after some monster turbulance, watched the too-old-to-be-a-goth-but-was-a-goth get into an illegal, non-licensed taxi and said a little prayer for him. This was where my first preconception about New York was shattered - those chatty New York cabbies they have in the films? Don't exist. New York Cabbies are rather like London Cabbies, or Brummie Cabbies, that is to say they are mostly recent immigrants who don't speak very good English.

They do drive those yellow taxis though, and we drove into Manhatten past lots of clapboard houses in Queens, and through the Queensborough Tunnel (have you ever seen that Sylvester Stallone film 'Daylight'? I have, rubbish) . Manhatten is.... just... huge.... I have tried to think of other ways of describing it but tht's the perfect word, it's not big in length or width (steady...) but it stretches up into the sky... and then up some more... and then up some more... You can tell who the tourists are because they are the ones with bad necks from getting out of the cabs and just looking up into the sky. The architecture, the sheer height, that's where the action is.

Our hotel (The Intercontinental Barclay) was in midtown and was very, very posh. A bit too posh for me, I felt like if I was allowed to have a room in a hotel like this then I should jolly well be allowed up those stairs on the plane... and they even let us check in early because I am a priority club member (lets face it, there have to be some perks to staying away from home so much). Our room on the ninth floor had a coffee maker in it which I thought was da bomb until I realised that that was because there was no kettle, ie; no tea, just coffee, this was to become a problem when we got home a week later, just a little bit addicted to the caffeine now... As cool as the coffee maker was though, what was not so cool was the 'Break In Case Of Attack Glow Stick' that was in the bed side drawer next to the bible.

In the diary next I have written 'Battle with jet lag commenced! Walked to Central Park not far away, central park very big... and very central... saw Strawberry Fields, the Dakota building and the 'Imagine' memorial, also saw young couple crying over it, yes, I agree, very sad, but not like you knew him... saw lake'

Apparently I was not impressed by the lake, I thought I was but there you go.

We headed back to the hotel via Times Square which is very impressive at night, during the day some of the specialness is lacking, I think it must all be in the lights, all that neon.

Next I've written 'back to hotel past Radio City - NO SLEEP! NO!'

Our hotel was a bit posh, as I've already said, and the nearest hotel to ours was the Waldorf Astoria which was just round the corner, I'm not bragging, I'm just saying that to illustrate how completely impossible we discovered it was going to be to eat a nice meal for less than, oh I don't know, A MILLION DOLLARS. So we began our New York culinary experience in an Irish pub where I found out that if you order steak rare, they bring you a large cow, and you nibble on it's bottom for a bit before you have to give in.

Portion Sizes + America = HUGE x Glenn = Happiness.

We never went to that Irish pun again, not because we weren't happy with the service or food, but because we realised the next day that we hadn't tipped enough and if we were to ever go back they would mostly likely vomit on our food. Always tip 15-20% and they pretty much never automatically add gratuity to your bill like they do here, you have to add it yourself.

Back at the hotel we made it until 9pm, which our bodies thought was 2am, having been up since 6, so we went to sleep...

V for Vendetta

I can't write about politics, I've tried and reading it back I just end up sounding either pious or just a little bit stupid. So I'm not going to write about the political aspects of the film we saw this evening, except to say that it confused, frightened and inspired me. I'm not so stupid as to see it as a realistic interpretation of any western nation's future, but I like to think that I would be one of those in the masks during the film's final frames.

In the meantime, if you would like to read a proper review, I can direct you here;

http://www.pajiba.com/v-for-vendetta.htm

It's a great review.

Hi

Hello.

We're back.

However, I am in the middle of being slowly murdered by jet lag and am completely unable to form coherant sentances.

This entry is taking me a really long time.

I wrote a diary everyday we were in NYC though (see how I talk? NYC? I'm so New York now) so will type that up in the next day or so.

Have to go now, take much caffeine, STAY AWAKE AND DEFEAT THE JET LAG.

Peace out x

Wherein I ask you to admire my shiny shiny hair but ignore my double chin.

Shiny hair - Them there Aussie hair care products are gooood.

Double chin - That there chocolate cake is baaaad.

Birthday Photo's

This will be the last post in over a week as very early tomorrow morning, 'im indoors and I will be Leaving On A Jet Plane and going to enjoy a New York Minute on the Other Side Of The World. Yes, I will be fulfilling one of my new years resolutions and a life long dream by spending a week in New York City. And I am very, very, very excited. If you haven't already got that then let me just say it again, I am very, very, very excited. The only cloud on my horizon is the actual flight there (ARGH!) and the only thing that is getting me through the thought of that is the free pretzels Virgin Atlantic give you (yay!), chance of The Hideous Double Chin disappearing by the end of the week? Zero.

So if you want to know what happened on Saturday night, you should click on the 'Moch's Blog' link to the side of this, and see photo's of me, quite a lot of my boobs and Miss Moch getting more, more, and then a bit more hammered.....

I was very, very in love with my sister on Saturday night, this was largely because she actually came, because she brought Gay Lee (his fag to her hag), because she bought me sangria, because she told me she loved me roughly 724 times and because she had gold shoes on. They sparkled....

There were tears, what can I say? Glenn thought it was very funny.

She left at about 2ish to go to a gay club with Lee, after lots of discussion we decided to stay in the pub, this decision was made because there was a fee on the door at the gay place and no fee on the door of where we were, because we are tight. In the taxi on the way home Chris was heard to say "I'm not homophobic, I'm really not, I like the gays! But thank fuck we didn't go to that gay bar....".

We got home after The Long Trek To A Taxi and had burgers, chance of The Hideous Double Chin disappearing by the end of the year? Zero...

BIG CONGRATULATIONS to Liz and Gareth who got engaged this weekend! Big G Man whisked Liz away on Saturday afternoon to Venice as a surprise, I totally knew and it caused me great pain not to be able to say anything. She emailed me a whole plan for Saturday afternoon that involved sushi and Topshop, it was a GREAT PLAN, and I had to say that that sounded amazing, WHICH IT DID, and the whole time I was thinking 'but you'll be in Venice....'.

Gareth OWES ME.

Last night and this morning

So last night I went to a Pilates class. Moch is desperate for me to join the gym and I have always wanted to try Pilates after a brief love affair with Yoga that ended most acrimoniously when the Yogi tried to cleanse my chacra and got a nasty electric shock .

We went to the class and I discovered that I was born without any stomach muscles, this was a shock and not something I was expecting to happen. There the teacher was, lay on her side on the mat, legs together and bent back at the knee, arm against the mat at a right angle to her body, and lifting her middle off the mat as if an invisible rope was pulling her up in the middle. Then I tried. Nothing would move, nothing, I positioned my body and I could feel my brain tell my middle to lift but I just wouldn't , it stayed resolutely glued to the mat.

Same thing happened with the funny crunch type things, a lady who was at least 50 could lift her entire upper body off the mat, towards her knees, while I strained to get my head off the mat for longer than a second.

Pilates - not a success.

They assure me that should I make it a regular thing it would get easier and I would notice a difference in the way my body responds on an every day level, but it's just such an expense.

This morning I woke up and got out of bed at 6.15, Glenn doesn't get out of bed until 7.15. I got out of the shower at 6.25 and when I opened the bathroom door he was stood on the landing, a cup of tea in his out stretched hand, his eyes closed. He mumbled 'Happy Birthday, tea for you, going to back to bed'.

I haven't got any stomach muscles, and I may be 25, but life is good.

Question for you.

If you were going to go to New York, and your plan was to go and be a Proper Tourist, none of this 'finding the real New York', or any of that, you're going to go and do everything that they blatantly manipulate you to do in all the guide books, would you go to Ground Zero?

I have a friend who went to New York in early 2002, and she queued up for the viewing platform the city had set up to see it all with. The site was still smoking in places and they pulled out the remains of two people while she watched, and afterwards she threw up, disgusted with herself for having wanted to see it.

Now it's 2006, and Oliver Stone is making a film about it because he believes it is an historical event now, so does that mean that Ground Zero is now something we should see? Somewhere where we should go, pay our respects and promise to be better people? In the same way people go to Aushwitz?

Or would it be the morbid curiosity of someone who watched the disaster unfold from the safety of a living room, some 5000 miles away?

Things I have given up for lent.

The last ever day that I can say, with all certainty, that I am 24 years old.

Oh God, let it not be so, I know that the only alternative is death, but really, 25? Honestly? You're really going to do this to me? You're actually going to force me to wake up on a day when I have to be one quarter of a century old? A quarter of a century?

It actually hurts a little bit.

I have this conversation all the time with people, how do you feel about getting older? I ask this because it really, really bothers me, and it bothers a girl I work with who turned 29 a couple of weeks ago, and it bothers someone else I work with who turns 50 later this year, we often sit and whinge about the passing of time and the advancement of the odd grey hair that peeks through when we're NOT PAYING ATTENTION. However, I haven't got a single friend who it bothers. They just look at me like, just get over it, what are you going to do about it?

LIE

That's what I'm going to do about it, I am going to be the Dolly Parton of Management Consultancy, I am going to be 24 every single year from now on.

I like being 24, 24 feels like the age I should be, old enough to be taken seriously, young enough to have a lifetime of opportunity in front of you, It's a GOOD AGE. Nothing is expected of me, none of this marriage rubbish, none of that baby stuff, I earn a nice salary for my age and I am not expected to have really advanced any more in my career than I already have. This is where I like it. I can still drink tequila, I can still listen to radio one, I can still tick the 18-24 box, I can still wear a mini skirt (should my brain explode, we all suddenly appreciate the fashions of 1984, and I actually become imbued by the spirit of Dolly Parton). I can watch T4, I know who the bands are on Popworld, I can say "I am a graduate" and not have people think 'dear god,it's time to let that go now', I can paint one of the walls in the bathroom deep purple if I want to, Ok, that's going a bit off topic but just picture it, white suite, chrome taps and fittings, white tiles, white walls and then the wall opposite the bath in a deep, dark, purple, with four little round mirrors in a row across the middle, wouldn't that look nice........?

AND I DON'T SEE WHY I SHOULD GIVE THAT UP.

Happy St Davids Day

Mae Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau
The Land Of My Fathers

Mae hen wlad fy nhadau yn annwyl i mi,
The land of my fathers, the land of my choice,
Gwlad beirdd a chantorion, enwogion o fri;
The land in which poets and minstrels rejoice;
Ei gwrol ryfelwyr, gwladgarwyr tra mâd,
The land whose stern warriors were true to the core,
Tros ryddid gollasant eu gwaed.
While bleeding for freedom of yore.

Gwlad, Gwlad, pleidiol wyf i'm gwlad.
Wales! Wales! fav'rite land of Wales!
Tra môr yn fur i'r bur hoff bau,
While sea her wall, may naught befall
O bydded i'r hen iaith barhau.
To mar the old language of Wales.
Hen Gymru fynyddig, paradwys y bardd,
Old mountainous Cambria, the Eden of bards,
Pob dyffryn, pob clogwyn i'm golwg sydd hardd;
Each hill and each valley, excite my regards;
Trwy deimlad gwladgarol, mor swynol yw si
To the ears of her patriots how charming still seems
Ei nentydd, afonydd i mi.
The music that flows in her streams.
Os treisiodd y gelyn fy ngwald tan ei droed,
My country tho' crushed by a hostile array,
Mae hen iaith y Cymry mor fyw ac erioed,
The language of Cambria lives out to this day;
Ni luddiwyd yr awen gan erchyll law brad,
The muse has eluded the traitors' foul knives,
Na thelyn berseiniol fy ngwlad.
The harp of my country survives.

Wales - For a country so beautiful, it's language creates an awful lot of spit.