Sweltering New York

I met up with my friend Isabelle tonight for our ritual bi-weekly girlie chats at the Bookmarks rooftop bar, at the top of the Library Hotel.

We stumbled across this place for the first time back in early April. We had originally planned to go to the Campbell Apartment in Grand Central but found it closed for a private party. We asked for a recommendation and they suggested Bookmarks on Madison & 43rd.

It was a cold evening and I remember how we justified drinking copious amounts of wine as the only way to keep warm. We haven’t looked back since and always meet there. The service may be painfully slow and the drinks expensive, but it is more than made up by the fantastic views of the city (the Empire State Building in particular), the cool music and intimate size of the actual deck.

Unfortunately, tonight, our hang out was hosting a private party and we had to go to plan B – the outdoor Bryant Park Café, just in front of the majestic New York public library.
They asked for ID before letting us in. I’m getting pretty used to it here as I constantly get checked (hey, I’m not going to complain if they really think I’m under 21!) but this time, they actually stamped our hands! Having to go to the bar and discretely showing the stamp to get a drink was hilarious, if a little embarrassing.

It was probably the hottest & most humid night of the year – imagine a cross between being in a sauna and a steam room. It’s pretty hard trying to look glamorous when you’re "glowing" a little too much and your hair is starting to look like it could rival Foxxy Cleopatra’s afro! But this time, we justified our consumption of chilled white wine because we were desperately trying to cool down.

Eventually, the inevitable happened - the skies opened dramatically and torrential rain forced us to run out of the bar in search of a taxi.
New Yorkers will tell you that there are no taxis in Manhattan when it rains. A fact that I can most unfortunately confirm. We got drenched, huddling under the same small umbrella, almost jumping under any taxis that were going past us in an attempt to make them stop.

A man on a bike taxi asked me where I was going and when I answered the Upper West Side (a good 50 blocks from where we were), he said he would take me but that it would be $30. I have never paid more than $20 for a taxi ride, not even from Battery Park at the bottom of Manhattan to the UWS, but desperate times require desperate measures so I hopped on.

I spent most of the (rather bumpy) ride texting my friends explaining that I was being cycled around by this poor guy – at least I was protected from the rain but he wasn’t!
In the end, I felt so bad that I gave him $40. Most expensive, but most unusual & fun taxi ride so far!

Random observations & encounters

• In the ladies at work, there is a sign offering detailed instructions as to what one should do – it includes pearls of wisdom such as the importance of washing your hands of course, but my favourite advice is the one about “avoiding contact with people showing influenza-like symptoms” at all cost. Nanny state?
• I have never witnessed so many public arguments and general upfront behaviour since I have moved here. Either between complete strangers on the subway (“Could you stand any closer to me dude?!”) or between lovers.
• At the same time, I’ve never had so many strangers talking to be on the subway – makes a change from the tube in London where everyone buries their head in their newspaper or book. The last time was a few days ago, when an older man stopped me on the platform and told me to “never, ever cut my hair” … apparently it’s just too nice!
• On the Food Network channel (a strange obsession of mine), I once watched a show where cooks from different parts of the world competed for some kind of title – the only cook who was given subtitles was the French one! He didn’t even have such a strong accent!
• Talking of accent, I have yet to meet an American who realises straight away (or at least in the first 15 minutes) that I’m French and not British. They seem to have no perception for accents.
• I have not cooked a single thing since I have moved here and have no intention of doing so. My nice shiny oven and stove will stay that way (much to my parents’ horror – I am supposed to be French after all). The closest I have come to "cook" was reheating pre-prepared meals (they’re very good here) in my microwave. I eat out most of the time and when I don’t, I either get take out (all the restaurants, even the posh ones, offer this service) or go down to the Deli downstairs and have them make me a nice salad with any ingredients I want.
• Continuing with the convenience culture that is so prevalent here, I haven’t looked back since the day I found out that I could get my laundry picked up, washed/dry cleaned, folded and delivered back for a mere $8. Why would anyone want to do their own at that price?!
• I was excited one day when I saw that a movie I like, “8 Miles”, was being shown on one of the cable channels. The problem is that I could barely follow the movie as every single swear word was bleeped out, making it impossible to watch.
• I love all the TV adverts about medical products here – because of the suing culture, they have to reel out the list of secondary effects one might experience as a result of taking the medicine. My favourites are impotence and death. Enough said (especially if you get both in that order).
• Food portions here are really very big (except maybe in very posh restaurants). I learned very quickly to order everything in appetizer size. However, the quality of food is overwhelmingly good and also very good value, especially when compared to London.
• One of the most surreal thing I’ve seen so far is this very old, hunched over man who often plays in the subway in Times Square. His act consists of him singing Edith Piaf songs (he’s not French though), while playing on an electronic organ, on top of which sit a series of bizarre dancing dolls. I just had to give him a few dollars for originality and for reminding me that I love the song “La vie en rose”.
• This is closely followed by the weird experience of seeing a man, coming out of the World Financial Centre, wearing an all over white knitted jumpsuit, complete with matching balaclava and proceeding to walk very calmly towards the promenade. Maybe it was an art project or maybe an investment banker gone mad. I will never know.
• Favourite TV show title so far: “Paralized and pregnant”. I wish I was kidding, but I’m really not.
• I love New York cab drivers. They are, for the most part, completely insane, but then who wouldn’t be driving around this congested city all day/night? The majority of them are constantly on their mobile phone, through headset, so you never know if they’re talking to you or to their friend/partner/child/lawyer/dispatcher/psychologist.
• I had the enviable experience of going to the Social Security Office to get my social security card and wait patiently for 3 hours to put in my application. The experience was made a lot more interesting by a strange, but very much in love, couple. The lady was tall and rather on the large side. Her partner was a much smaller, skinny guy. There were not enough seats for both of them to sit on, so she made him sit on her lap, talked to him like he was a child and called him “puppy” the entire time.
• In the same Social Security Office, they also had a very handy sign reminding us what not to do – “No drinking, no smoking, no eating, no sitting on window sills, no writing on walls, no radio playing”. I can *almost* understand the reasoning behind all of them but the “no writing on walls” really threw me.
  

But all of the above is why I love New York so much and wouldn’t change it for the world. I’m looking forward to a lot more random experiences.

You know you’re a New Yorker when …

You do something like this …

Marion & I went to meet Joe and a couple of his friends at a beach in Rye, a 40 minutes train ride from Grand Central. It felt like a mini-adventure but the fun ended when we arrived at the train station in this picturesque and quiet town.

There was an empty taxi stand and not much else. We sat down on the curb, patiently waiting for some kind of yellow car to arrive.

After about 15 minutes, Joe called us wondering what was taking us so long. He couldn’t believe that we couldn’t conceive that, unlike in Manhattan, the chances of a taxi showing up were extremely remote and that they would certainly not be yellow! He advised us to go into a shop and call a car from there ... amused but slightly exasperated that we had both become such New Yorkers!

Taxi!

Had another very New York experience this morning. My flight back to France was leaving very early in the morning so I asked the receptionist in my building if she could recommend any taxi companies that I could call to pick me up.

She recommended that I call a certain Mr Mahmood who also lives in my building and would take me to the airport on a flat fare. I called him at about 7pm yesterday and he agreed to meet me in the lobby at 4.30am.

He was a lovely man, originally from Pakistan, who had lived in the city for 20 years and was married to an American woman.

So how come a taxi driver & I can both afford to live in the same building on the Upper West Side? He told me that he lived in one of the few rent stabilized apartments available and that he was determined to hang on to it for as long as he could!
He pays $600 per month for a large studio – I pay $2,400 for a large 1 bedroom …

I should feel a little peeved about this but I don’t at all. In fact I love it and I’m glad the system still exists (although the number of apartments available under the scheme is reducing every day), otherwise it would take away from the true multi-cultural aspect of New York.
I have seen so many different types of people in my building – every single ethnic origins, business people, old people, families, students. It’s what makes the city special.

Mr Mahmood got me to JFK in half an hour flat and even bought me a cup of coffee. He’s officially my favourite NYC cab driver.

Sangria & Cream Tea

I am amazed and very happy at how quickly I have made friends here. I think it’s partly because a lot of people come & go in New York so groups of friends are very transient and fluid. You become less protective about having distinct groups of friends and not wanting to add new people into the mix. We are also all united somehow by our unconditional love for the place, which seems to help form bonds quicker.

Last weekend I met up with Marion, Joe, Mitsy and Guy and we went to Café Noir in Soho (a weird little French/Spanish place but lovely) and then to a bar. We consumed far too much sangria than should really be allowed – there’s a real pitcher culture here and the drinks are much stronger than in Europe. Much fun was had though.

On Sunday, I met up with Raff & Libs for a proper English cream tea and finger sandwiches at “Tea & Sympathy”, a cute & tiny English tea shop in Greenwich village. The weather was beautiful and New Yorkers were out in mass enjoying it. Saw a guy walking his dog & skateboarding at the same time – now that’s what I call muti-tasking in style!

Nesting

My flat is starting to take shape. I bought some picture rails from Crate & Barrel and Larry (my gbf and surrogate husband) came over with his drill and put them up for me. I’m surprised that neither of us sustained any injuries considering how much we were laughing. They look brilliant, just like I’d imagined it, and I had already bought some beautiful lacquered picture frames and had my favourite photos printed in black and white, so I was able to put everything together straight away.

It’s funny because when I was in London, I had no pictures of my friends anywhere and only a couple of my family but here I really need images of the ones I love and miss.

In terms of family pictures, I have the wonderful picture that Laurie & I took of ourselves in Whistler ... a “hold the camera with one arm extended” job which worked so well, neither of us wearing a scrap of makeup – something I wouldn’t normally recommend! – and looking so happy and similar that there is no mistaking we are sisters.
Then a lovely if a little blurry picture of mum & dad that I love because they didn’t know I was taking a picture at the time – they are playfully joking with each other and look so in love.
A great picture of Julien proudly holding an enormous mushroom he found during one of our ritual mushroom picking expeditions in the woods near our family country house.
And too many pictures of friends to be able to go through them all - all of very happy times.

Larry & I then walked over to Central Park to watch the St Patrick’s day parade. It was beautifully covered in snow and it was wonderful to see families sledging on the slopes and I even saw someone skiing! It was cold but crisp and sunny. The parade was fun too – I am told that there will be many more during the year.

First night in the city

That’s it – I’ve done it! Flew into New York on a one-way ticket.

I arrived on Saturday night, tired and weary (after one last night out with friends). It’s funny how I am looking at the city differently now that I know I’m going to be living here. It’s not an unattainable dream anymore, but it still feels new and exciting, albeit more real.
I am noticing the beggars more, how run down the buildings are, how unsophisticated supermarkets are (I miss Marks & Spencer already!). How normal people are here too … it’s not as glamourous as when looking at the city with the eyes of a tourist. Even clothes don’t seem as cheap somehow – although that’s probably because I am now paid in US dollars!

Yet, I still love it. Looking out of my window, taking in the view of Broadway – the taxis snaking up & down the busy avenue, the “Do Not Walk” signs glittering, the subway entrance around the corner, the very New York looking red bricks building in front of me, the smoke coming out of the subway air vents, the beautifully arranged fruits & vegetables in the shopfront of the grocery store.

I keep looking at this spectacle happening in front of my eyes and I still can’t believe I’ve made it! I’m living in New York! From a half-baked dream that I never thought would really come true, to it really happening. I must be the luckiest girl alive!