Learning

I decided that 2008 would be my year of "learning" - of taking courses in subjects that I have always had a keen interest in. After breaking all of my other New Year resolutions on the very night of New Year's Eve (a record, even for me), this seemed the easiest resolution to actually keep.

My life is so full of extremes at times that I felt I needed to balance it with an intellectual challenge of a different kind, one that would appeal to my academic nature while broadening my horizons. I am also concerned that I have developed an attention deficit disorder, a need to be constantly challenged that maybe this could help appease.

So I enrolled in an Art History course at New York University in February. NYU always held a mystical appeal to me. The University buildings, scattered around Washington Square in Soho, look modern and vibrant, crowds of "too cool for school" kids hanging outside.

The reality is that I am stuck for 2 hours every Monday evening in a windowless room along with 20 other students, crammed in a small and over-heated space, sitting on the same uncomfortable chair/table combination that you can spot in every American teen movies.
Our teacher is a lovely but slightly absent-minded old lady, always dressed in head to toe black. Her soft voice is almost drowned by the loud noise emanating from the projector she uses to show us works of art - sculptures, buildings, paintings, ceramics. She is completely useless with even this basic form of technology and every week something goes terribly wrong with the projector, sending her in a state of mild panic and us in a state of amusement.

The course is a little basic for my liking. Probably due to the fact that we are covering everything from Cave art to Modern art in just 10 weeks. But also because I realised that our European education puts a great emphasis on learning about history and art, which may not really be the case for Americans.

But I really enjoy it nonetheless. I haven't studied in such a long time that I forgot to take a notepad and pen to the first lesson, awkwardly realising that my blackberry (the centre of my daily life) was not going to cut it as a device to take proper notes on.

I am already planning my next course which I have decided will be Global Politics. If anything, it will be fascinating to hear it from an American point of view, which I'm sure will have me cringe in my seat more than once.

Milestone

I landed in New York, on a dark and cold night, exactly a year ago this week.

I remember sitting on my bed, the only piece of furniture in my otherwise empty flat, wondering whether I was brave (as all my friends insisted I was) or completely insane ... while personally leaning towards the latter.
I felt that I was not only leaving 12 years of my life in London behind but also jumping feet first into the most challenging situation I have ever encountered - on my own, far away from my family and from friends who mean the world to me. But I was also excited to be achieving my dream of living in this amazing city and doing the job I have always loved doing, and will never tire of, but on a much larger scale.

It therefore seems an appropriate time for me to reflect on whether living in New York has changed me in anyway. Have I picked up new habits? Am I a different person to the one who left London 12 months ago? If anything, it's a good excuse for yet another random list ...

* I no longer get lost on the subway. Probably because I have officially given up on public transport anytime past 7pm during the week and at all times during the weekend. I'm afraid my brain is now wired to automatically choose the more expensive but much easier option of jumping into a cab. I used to be amused when taxi drivers asked me how I wanted to get to my destination ... until a few weeks ago, when I surprised myself by instructing the driver to take the West Side Highway to get me downtown. I now shamelessly debate the best routes to take with taxi drivers on a regular basis, as a true New Yorker would.
* I have started to say "how you doing?" instead of "how are you?" and also noticed I have the tendency to add "right?" in a higher pitch at the end of sentences - sometimes with a southern drawl if I have been spending too much time around Larry. A few American words have also weaved themselves into my vocabulary. My diary is now my calendar. I take the elevators. I live in an appartment, not a flat, and I don't call the subway the tube anymore ... While these adjustements were essential to make myself understood, I still stubbornly refuse to spell words the American way!
* I have developed an even keener interest in politics, no doubt fueled by being in the midst of one of the most important Presidential campaigns of recent times. I have watched the debates, torn between Obama and Clinton and admiring their witty repartie. Until I took a quizz on http://www.electoralcompass.com, which concluded that I was more closely aligned to Barack Obama's views. I haven't studied politics since my Masters but I will be joining a class on Global Politics at NYU in May to brush up my knowledge.
* I have picked up an expensive cocktail habit - my favourites being Hemingways at Bookmarks, Mojitos at Cafecito, Apple Martinis at the Merc Bar, Bloody Marys at Jane and Expresso Martinis at Garage. A "large glass of white wine" is still my favourite however. Some things never change.
* I have completely changed my mind about rain boots - from thinking that they were a dubious fashion statement to realising that they are an indispensible (and very practical) accessory. The same goes for hats and padded North Face coats.
* I have come to see the Caribbean as a weekend destination - in less than 3 hours, I can be on a white sand beach with a cocktail in my hand and I am planning to escape to St Martin for a long weekend very soon.
* I seem to have aged since I got here. I used to be asked for ID whenever I went out in my first 6 months here but it hasn't happened at all since then. The city has clearly taken its toll on me and I sadly don't look under 21 anymore.
* Most people I meet, and even people who have talked to me occasionally at work, think I'm British. Of course, I feel flattered by that. But I have heard myself on video and was shocked at how French I sound so I find it funny to have to explain to people who I have casually talked to for the last few months that no, my parents don't live in London, and yes, I really am French ...
* My obsession with sushi has only intensified and eel maki is a new and surprising addition to my repertoire of favourites.
* While on my ritual shopping expeditions in Soho at the weekends, I am physically unable to walk down the streets without clutching a tall Starbucks coffee, while still complaining that I cannot find decent coffee on this island.
* If someone had told me, 12 months ago, that I would be helping an 11 year old girl with her homework, I would have laughed in disbelief. But it seems that the level of nurturing I thought I could only feel for my family, my close friends and animals, can also be transposed to children!
* I have fully mastered the complicated art of swiping a metro card through the turnstiles in the subway. It's all about slow walking combined with a smooth wrist action - confidence is key! You just cannot show fear.
* Despite a few enjoying trips "up north" (including a great night in a Jazz club on 105th and a memorable brunch on 103rd), I still believe that Manhattan starts at the World Financial Centre and ends at 86th Street where I live.

While these are relatively trivial changes, this city has changed me in more radical ways too. The year I have spent here has been an incredible emotional roller coaster and I gained a few more hard-earned battle scars. But I'm staying on for the ride, which I am sure will continue to be both exhilarating and terrifying.

A Little Update

I seem to be finally getting through to Jenny, my Little, albeit with perhaps more intensity than I had anticipated.

Our contacts until a few weeks ago have been strictly face to face, within the structured group setting of the Big Brother Big Sister programme. Our meetings have been getting easier as she has started to open up a little more, even if it is mainly to share with me her hatred of school ... I guess some things are universal.

I found out a month or so ago that it is suggested that we call our Littles the day before our meetings but I shamefully admit that I never have. I am not really a phone person and the prospect of a conversation filled with long silences filled me with dread. I'm not proud of my cowardliness but I assumed she was fine with this too as talking is clearly not her strong point ...

But when I saw her after the Christmas break, she gave me her email address. "Great", I thought, "I can do emails, I'm good at that!". After all, this is how I have maintained significant friendships across the pond for almost a year now. She has since emailed me almost every single day and we have chatted online many, many times.

That would be OK ... but she makes me feel guilty and is clearly disappointed when I tell her that I'm not at home every night to talk to her online. I think she understands that I have a life of my own, but at the same time, she has no concept of it as she is only 11 years old. I really want to be there for her, but if this was a romantic relationship, she would be the co-dependent turning me into the commitment-phobe ...
I talked to Jessica, the social worker on the programme, about it and have since established some boundaries and limited online chatting to a couple of times a week. She told me how much Jenny's self-confidence has improved since the start of the programme (something I have noticed too) and told me it was due to the relationship we have established. I never really thought I would make an impact ... I am equally happy and astonished that I am, in some small way.

I am enjoying our unlikely friendship. Jenny is Chinese and her mum insisted on giving me money in a red envelope for Chinese New Year, as well as some sweets. I had to accept (despite the rules of the programme preventing us from usually accepting presents) as I was very touched that she & her family thought I was part enough of her life to share in their celebrations with me.

I am even happily getting back in touch with my long lost inner child, playing hide and seek in Disney's clubpenguin.com virtual world with Jenny ... And yes, I have checked with Jessica and this will not cause me to get arrested by the State of New York! I wouldn't really want to be writing my next post from prison ...

I love New York

The butterflies started when the pilot announced that we were landing in 20 minutes. I pushed up the blind and craned my neck to catch a glimpse of the lights in the dark and cold night, already picturing the glittering skyline I would soon be admiring from the taxi taking me back into town. A warm wave of joy and excitement overtook me … I was back in New York!

While this blog is already a testament of my love for the city, I pondered the reasons for my schoolgirl infatuation. A copy of the latest "New York Magazine" was waiting for me in my mailbox when I arrived home, and the words "Reasons to love NY" boldly printed on the front cover prompted me to come up with my very own list … I do have a huge fondness for lists after all.

But this is when I experienced (amateur) writer's block for the first time. I have been trying to meticulously list out all the little things that make me love the city, not wanting to leave anything out, for weeks and frustratingly found myself unable to actually rationalise my infatuation fully.

Maybe it's because anyone who lives here for more than a few months can call themselves a New Yorker, because the city is so inclusive, so incredibly multi-cultural and so transient that anyone has a right to citizenship as soon as they feel settled.

Because you can have a conversation with your Korean dry cleaner, your Pakistani concierge, your Jamaican street stall owner, your Thai take out delivery man, your Russian taxi driver or even your WASP Harvard MBA graduate colleague and find a common ground with them that transcend ethnicity, gender, wealth, religion and political convictions : we all have a story, a reason why we moved here and we are all on a seemingly elusive quest for more, faster and harder - be it money, career, love, life experience. You can’t stand still here, in fact people admire you for keeping up with the frenetic pace.

Maybe it’s also because while I have been to over 100 restaurants in 9 months – much more than in my 10 years in London – I can still discover new culinary delights every time I go out. Only recently, a girlfriend of mine took me to "Lure", an underground restaurant on Prince and Mercer, which I have walked past many times with not as much as a second glance. But as I was sipping on a delicious Ginger Apple Martini and sampling incredibly fresh and beautifully spiced tuna and yellowtail sashimi sitting on high stools at the sushi bar, I thought that there was no other place in the world I would rather be right now and that I had found somewhere I would go back to over and over again.

Because I never tire of the eclectic and raw beauty of the city. I still get a sense of awe and excitement when I catch a glimpse of Times Square on my way somewhere. Or when I walk in Central Park in all its bleak and winter beauty, the trees bare and the rocks protruding oddly. When I pound the picturesque streets of the West Village, Soho or the Lower East Side to meet friends for brunch, dinner or drinks. When I witness a jaw dropping sunset, luminously pink over the Statue of Liberty, outside of the World Financial Center every day.

Because despite this being the home of over 8 million people, I can still walk around anywhere in the city and feel that it belongs to me … that somehow that beautiful fire escape, that aging tree, that ornate architectural detail on a building, that lovely deli or even that random mad person on the street were put there for my enjoyment alone.

Also because life here is a lesson in time management. All mundane tasks are outsourced - we don't have time to do our own laundry, to cook our own meals, to do our own nails, to drive our own cars, to find our own dates. Work is crammed in whenever we can - everyone, including me, feverishly typing on their blackberry on the subway. Yet we make time to go to that special Seurat exhibition at the MoMa, watch that obscure play at the Steinberg Center just off Broadway, hear Jimmy Scott sing at Columbus Circle or go to the newest restaurant that was rated highly by the Zagat guide or the NY Mag.

The truth is that I will never be able to come up with a comprehensive list. Love or infatuation wouldn’t be as magical or special if it could rationalised.

I expect the city will continue to provide me with an endless number of reasons to sustain my love affair with it … I just have to live with the fact that I frustratingly will never quite be able to express them.

El Escape Dulce

One of the many things I like about New York is its wonderful proximity to warm and sunny destinations during the bleak winters. In a mere 3 or 4 hours, you can find yourself on a white sandy beach, staring at the turquoise sea while listening to the gentle sound of crashing waves.

I normally favour a more active and adventurous holiday, one involving a challenge (either physical or personal) or some kind of novelty. This year, I had planned to head to Cuba to listen to Jazz in Havana, or to take a whale watching trip to Alaska or perhaps to finally go Gorilla trekking in the dense Ugandan jungle.

But as the end of the year drew near, I realised that I just didn't have the strength to challenge myself anymore. That moving across the Ocean, taking on a new demanding role, making new friends and whole-heartily embracing the fanatical pace of New York had drained me beyond description. This year has been one of extreme and opposite emotions for me: joy and sorrow, excitement and fear, fun and stress ... some dreams achieved and others shattered. So much so, that all I wanted, to my shock and horror, was to lie on a beach with plenty of books and a good friend.

And so I found myself, a few days ago, on a plane heading to Playa Del Carmen on Mexico's Yucutan Peninsula, with my gbf Larry. Playa seemed to offer a slightly more rural alternative to Cancun's large all-inclusive resorts (which I despise) and we opted to stay in a lovely boutique hotel tucked in a small palm tree lined street, minutes from the Caribbean sea.
The town itself was a dichotomy, retaining the feel of a small place yet still touristy. Mexican joints happily cohabiting with trendy upmarket restaurants, tacky souvenir shops with sophisticated art galleries.

The whole short trip was exactly what I needed and I completely relaxed. Reading a book a day, on the patio of our villa overlooking the serene miniature pool while birds were singing. Interrupting my sunbathing on the beach only to swim in the crystal clear sea. Walking on clouds after having a facial and massage at the local beauty salon. Taking an early evening solitary dip in the sea to watch a breathtakingly pink sunset that seemed to have been staged just for me. Tirelessly enjoying guacamole and fajitas ...

Adventure was had however in the form of a wave-runner ride. I have an irrational but very genuine fear of deep water, where the sea turns a dark shade of blue ... which is unfortunately the only place where one is allowed to do wave-running, far away from swimmers. Facing my fear should have been enough of a challenge, had it not been for the additional adrenaline provided by Larry. He's very experienced and fearlessly rode the waves at alarming speed, creating higher ones so that we would literally be propelled off the seat and almost lose balance, swallowing gallons of salty water in the process.
I scarcely opened my eyes and gripped onto him so tightly that I was still shaking for 2 hours afterwards. It was exhilirating! I was petrified but loved it and even had a go at driving the infernal machine - eyes opened this time but screaming like the girl I am!

I should have been dreading going back to New York after spending a few days in paradise but instead found myself unable to stop humming "Start spreading the news ..." as soon as I boarded the plane. Not even the news that snow had fallen on the city (delaying our plane by a couple of hours) deterred my enthusiasm. You can take the girl out of New York, but you can't take New York out of the girl ...

Hear it to believe it

You just have to love a place where you can hear conversations like the ones below, which are some of my favourites from overheardinnewyork.com.

Conductor: Due to train traffic ahead, this train will be going local to Roosevelt. Local to Roosevelt.
Three-year-old kid: Fuck!
(Overheard on the F train)

Chick: Yeah, I've been dating my new boyfriend for two years now. About to make the big move into Brooklyn. Really exciting, except Brooklyn's so scary. We saw some neighborhoods that I really don't think I could walk around in late at night.
Dude: Yeah, but the East Village can be like that, too. The other day, there was this couple having a fight over their crack pipe. There were children present! But then they saw the kids and took it somewhere else.
Chick: Yeah, there were some people smoking crack at my birthday party, but I just thought they all had really fancy cigarette holders.
(Overheard on L train, between 1st Avenue & Bedford)

Girl: This popcorn is soft. I hate soft popcorn.
Guy: I know, I hate soft-core, too. It's such a tease.
Girl: No, no. I was talking about the popcorn -- it's soft. But I agree: if there is no penetration, it's not worth my time.
(Overheard in the Ziegfeld Theater)

Little boy pointing at mannequins: Bitch!
Mother: Hey! Didn't I tell you not to say that word? It's a bad word!
Little boy: That's not fair! You never yell at Daddy when he says that to you!
(Overheard in Macy's, Herald Square)

TSA employee to people in line: All liquids and gels are prohibited beyond this point. Dispose of them now.
Four-year-old boy to father: Aw, man! Does that mean I have to get rid of my pimp juice?
(Overheard at LaGuardia Airport)

Young boy to another, whispering: I'm gonna knock you off ,and then I'm gonna steal your M&Ms.
(Overheard in FAO Schwartz)

Little boy to little girl while nanny is distracted: I love outdoor shopping, because it's easier to steal things!
(Overheard at 11th & University)

White mom: Which kitty is your favorite?
Little girl holding book of baby animals: The black one!
Mom: The black one? He sure is a cute kitty.
Little girl, loudly: Once you go black, you never go back!
Passing thug, flashing her a thumbs-up: Word!
White mom: I don't care what your father says, we are so moving to Westchester.
(Overheard at Commodore Barry Park, Fort Greene, Brooklyn)

Conductor: Okay everyone, we're going to evacuate the train now. Just stay calm. This isn't the Titanic. I repeat, this is not the Titanic.
(Overheard on Acela, to NYC)

NY-er, as visitor friend hesitates at crosswalk: It is so touristy to be afraid of getting hit by cars.
(Overheard at 34th & Broadway)

Father to young son: The species tourist vulgaris is identified by the fanny pack and the new white sneakers.
(Overheard at 45th & Broadway)

Tourist: Excuse me. where's the Golden Gate Bridge?
Cop, puzzled at first, then nonchalantly pointing north: Just keep walking that way, you can't miss it.
(Overheard in Times Square)

Hot girl on cell: She moved to Oklahoma? People don't go to Oklahoma -- people are from Oklahoma!
(Overheard at 72nd & Columbus)

Old woman #1: How many times have you beaten the video game Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas?
Old woman #2: I'm not sure. Maybe three or four times...
(Overheard on the A train)

Tourist dad with family, bumping into another tourist family: Excuse us! Thank you!
Other family's tourist dad: Ugh! Rude New Yorkers!
Nearby cop, to both: You do realize you're both tourists, right?
(Overheard on 48th & 5th Avenue)

Upper East Side trophy wife #1, in black dress: ... And the dress was only twenty-six hundred dollars!
Upper East Side trophy wife #2: Wow, that's fabulous!
(Overheard in David Burke & Donatella Restaurant)

Mom: Do you think they use dildos?
Dad, indicating 20-something daughter: I don't know. Why don't we ask our resident expert?
(Overheard on 116th & Broadway)

Receptionist: I'm sorry, Mr. Jones is out of the country... He went to Florida.
(Overheard at Hunter College)

Chick #1: I just felt sad, so I slept with him.
Chick #2: But... he's gay.
Chick #1: But he's a good kisser.
(Overheard on the 1 train)

There is something sad, endearing, funny, scary and yet fascinating about these exchanges and I'm not convinced they could have been overheard in any other cities in the world ...

The age of innocence?

I went to a "Big Sister Big Brother" training session last night and only wish I had attended it earlier in the programme, as it gave me some terrifying context into what my little sister's life is like.

My childhood was clearly so sheltered & idyllic that I didn't even conceive of the kind of things that the children we are mentoring are exposed to or are experiencing first hand.

Sure they are going through the same upheavals we all did as young teenagers - peer as well parental pressure, the desire to fit in, feeling uncomfortable about how they look, worrying about grades ...

But this is New York City and they face a lot of other, darker problems I never confronted as a child. Gangs - not just as a victim of them but also the pressure to actually be in one. Crime - the police raid their schools regularly, weapons are commonly carried and it is likely that they have seen someone being stabbed at some point. Drugs and alcohol - pot is passe and mixing up cocaine and amphetamines is all the rage apparently. And even sex - I was shocked to hear that the city had to eradicate the very popular "rainbow game" that girls as young as 10 were playing in all the schools: they would wear bracelets of different colours, each representing a sexual act and if a boy snapped one of them, they would have to perform that act on him.

Our "Littles" (we're the "Bigs") all come from inner city schools and receive benefits. This means that they live on or below the poverty line, which is a shocking $17,000 a year for a family of 3! I can't conceive of anyone being able to survive, let alone live, in one of the most expensive cities in the world on just $17,000, when this figure barely covers half of my rent for the year.

This leaves me with a moral dilemma ... How can I possibly justify my rather shallow lifestyle - centered around working, going out, traveling and dealing with boy troubles - when someone much younger and more vulnerable than me is going through trials I will never experience in my entire life? The guilt is something all the Bigs go through but it doesn't make it any easier to cope with.

I am more determined than ever before to make a difference for my Little, to be there for her and to be as much of a positive role model as I can be. Our last session was a vast improvement on the previous two as she is starting to feel more comfortable around me, and me around her.

There is a certain irony in the fact that it is taking a child to make me grow up a little at last ...