Uncertainty

When an impending global economic crisis started to be discussed last Summer, I was firmly in denial about its potential magnitude and impact on my life.

My state of oblivion rapidly changed by the Autumn, when the company I work for announced a 10% reduction of its workforce and I had the horrendous experience of having to let one of my team members go and watch some of my friends lose their jobs. Since then, there is hardly a week passing by at work without yet another alarmist communication from our executive team about new cost cutting measures, salary cuts or how incredibly challenging the current economic environment is.

Adverts on TV have noticeably changed in their tone and nature too in the past few months - from an increasing deluge of commercials about financial security, credit control and retail sales, to even more overt references to our precarious situation like the new ad from Hundai where consumers are encouraged to buy a new model with the guarantee that Hundai will take the car back if they lose their income within a year of purchase.

The bleakness has also spread to the streets of Manhattan. I realized a couple of weeks ago while walking around my neighbourhood that a few restaurants are now either closed or closing and that "For Rent" signs seem to adorn every other shop windows. On Tuesday this week, when Marie & I had planned to grab a couple of drinks at a local wine bar after our gym workout, we were surprised to see that it had closed early. It seems that a lot of establishments throughout the City are doing the same these days. The NY mag even wrote an article about it here.

In these circumstances, it can sometimes be hard to keep a positive outlook on the future. I like to think that I have dealt with a high amount of uncertainty, doubt and risk in the last two years of my personal life but I don't think that anything has prepared me enough for the road ahead and the challenges of 2009. This year will be a test of strength, resilience and adaptability for me and many people.

Will I lose my job? If I do, or decide to leave of my own accord, the chances of getting a visa are now null and I will be forced to move back to London jobless and with a sense of unfinished "New York business" ... The thing is that I love taking risks and yet I hate uncertainty. I crave and actively seek out adventure but secretly yearn for safety. I love surprises but I hate not being in control of my destiny. A constant state of dichotomy shared by many I am sure.

At least even if my New York adventure is cut short, it will be with the knowledge that I lived it to its fullest. It hasn't always been as easy, fun or even as glamourous as it may have appeared on this blog, but it has been incredibly intense and life-forming. I never do anything by half and this has been no exception.

The thing about not being in control however is that you have no choice but surrender yourself to fate - for better or for worse. So for now, I am enjoying each day as it comes and relishing every new memory that this fantastic City is helping me create.

Miami

Sometimes a photo can speak a thousand words ... But in short, Miami in the winter = sun, sea, fun, friends and even snakes!

The kindness of strangers

New Yorkers are known for being some of the rudest people on Earth.

While it is true in some cases, I have to say that my experiences point to the contrary. I have met some of the loveliest, most helpful and open-minded strangers in my time here and feel compelled to share some of these encounters.

I once ordered Thai food from a local restaurant to be delivered to my flat. When the delivery man arrived, I was very embarrassed to find out that they only took cash as I had none on me. I apologized profusely but he apologized even more than I did and graciously followed me outside to the nearest ATM. He detected that my accent was not entirely British and upon telling him that I was French, he got really excited. He was originally from Laos and had a passion for France, which is surprising considering our appaling track record in that part of the world. He told me how happy he was to meet a real French person, insisted that we speak French to each other and kissed my hand to say goodbye, which was so embarrassingly endearing.

I can not describe accurately enough the genuine neighbourhood culture of New York but one of its manifestations is that you get to know your "local service providers" very quickly and they always ask how I am with a warm handshake or a hug. Zafar, my concierge, always makes me promise to come back when I leave to go on a trip and when I recently came back from France, tired and crumpled from traveling for almost 20 hours (via an extended stop over in London), Mohammed the street stall owner told me that I had been away for exactly 13 days ... although he probably only counted because my cigarette habit alone pays for his mortgage!

In my building, everyone in the lifts makes small talk and strokes any dogs that happen to be in tow. I may not know their name and they don't know mine but there is at least acknowledgment that we live in the same place. I remember one of my friends telling me a story about 2 people who lived in the same building in London for 40 years and only talked to each other for the first time when a fire got them out of bed at 3am one night. I'm sure this happens in New York too of course.

If I ever look remotely lost or confused on the subway, usually when I am going to the Lower East Side as the subway maze to get there is mind-boggling, there is always someone who will ask me if I'm OK and need help to get to my destination. Every single time.

Sometimes, the kindness does go a little too far. I have been asked out on dates by various taxi drivers, the most notable one being an older gentleman who openly told me about having 2 daughters and a wife back in India. Mostly, my taxi drivers have been from all corners of the world and speak many more languages than I could ever hope to master.

I think that New Yorkers are only rude if you have the wrong attitude. If you are open and willing to accept that you don't know everything, New Yorkers will be the most helpful and friendliest people you could ever hope to meet.

New Yorker v1.1

It seems that you notice even more how much of a New Yorker you have become after spending a week in London when ...

Your friends are concerned that you are mildly obsessed with Barack Obama because you have read both his books and are recommending them to everyone you talk to, you brought the Time Magazine Special Election Commemorative Issue with you and you explain that you ended a recent casual fling on grounds of "irreconciliable political differences".

You keep calling London "the City" causing many confused looks - while in New York the City refers to Manhattan, in London it is the nickname for the Financial district.

You find an English accent utterly endearing and charming, realising you had somehow become immune to it over the years.

You almost choke when having to pay $120 for a taxi ride from Central London to Essex where you were staying for a night - in New York, this could almost get you to the Hamptons!

You make twice a day pitstops at the Starbucks around the corner from the office for a Tall Black Americano - not because you like their coffee but because it "feels like home".

Your resolution to take the Tube everywhere lasts for less than 24 hours! After that, most of your time is spent desperately looking for a black cab, loudly cursing their elusiveness outside of the city center.

Your face drops when, after spending the night at a friend's in South West London, he suggests that the best way for you to get back to Central London is to take a bus ... a bus! And then you of course spend half an hour looking for a taxi instead.

You think that hanging out with a 6'8 transvestite that you randomly met in a nightclub and talking about the merits of push-up bras is completely normal.

You take an hour train ride from London to Kingston and back and wonder how you managed to do that commute every weekday for nearly 7 years without losing the will to live - it gives a new meaning to the rat race which I don't think I could ever go back to.

When having said that, you find London trains to be very clean but ever so narrow and Londoners to be extremely polite and reserved compared to some of the more colourful characters you have encountered in the New York subway.

You feel that London is too big or at least too spread out compared to Manhattan. I am never more than 20 minutes away from where I want to be, whereas in London going back to wherever I was staying after going out seemed like a mini-adventure, without the reassuring part of knowing I would actually find a way to get home.

Thanksgiving

The significance and meaning of Thanksgiving only really dawned on me this year. For us Europeans, Thanksgiving may seem like a rather mysterious holiday, another excuse for consuming enornous amounts of food and wine (not that there is anything wrong with that) and the beginning of the Sales season. But it is in fact a much more inclusive celebration than Christmas is, independent as it is of religious convictions and therefore even larger in scale. It does however share the same themes of family, joy and love. And immediately after, the full madness of the Holiday spirit unleashes with lights and trees going up in every corner of the City. This year, I was incredibly lucky to have my "chosen family" with me for the celebration - my closest friends Marie and Giorgia (visiting from London) but minus Larry as he had escaped to sunny Florida. I therefore decided to put my rusty "domestric goddess" skills in action and host Thanksgiving dinner.
Groceries from Zabar's, the UWS Foodie mecca.	Not a common sight in my kitchen I must admit ...
	I had no intention of cooking the traditional American TG dinner of giant Turkey with a side of caramelized sweet potatoes... craving Jamie Oliver's perfect roast chicken instead.
	I may look completely in control (note the glass of white wine by my side however) but this was minutes after I dropped the chicken in the sink, screaming when some "things" fell out of its bottom as I was washing it. Not quite a domestic goddess after all ...
	The chicken was accompanied by roasted potatoes and a green salad with my famous French dressing. Marie made a delicious fruit tart and we also feasted on farm cheeses and baguette. Come to think of it, there was nothing American about our Thanksgiving dinner at all!
Lifting of the "huge beast"	Marie & Giorgia
I can't share any more pictures as a few too many bottles of wine were consummed throughout the evening while we chatted away, listened to music, stalked people on facebook and made travel plans for next year. The morning after had to be spent at Barney Greengrass in an attempt to cure the hangover of course.
"Dirty brunch"	There is nothing this cannot cure!

New Yorker

You know you are a New Yorker when ...

You are dreading having to use public transport all the time when back in London for a few days, being so used to taking taxis everywhere.

You suffer a mild panic attack when finding out that a friend of yours is having her birthday party in Brooklyn.

Your friends often ask you for restaurants and bars recommendations, even if they have lived in New York for longer than you have.

You tell taxi drivers to go to "27th and 7th", not bothering to say Avenue or Street, and demand that they take 9th and not Broadway.

You lose all self-consciousness and dance in the street when the first snow falls on the City because that's what everyone else is doing too.

You get upset when your local dry cleaners changes ownership because you had made friends with the previous ones as you went there so often for your laundry.

You avoid 5th Avenue like the plague and shop online instead.

You don't consider a manicure to be an unnecessary luxury but merely a relaxing part of your weekly routine.

You sometimes find that even ordering food in online is too hard of a task.

Your dentist's office was featured in an episode of "Law and Order".

You refer to the Upper West Side as UWS and the Lower East Side as LES.

Your concept of being on time occasionally deteriorates.

You inadvertently crash the private party of a trendy fashion photographer at Bar & Books and end up chatting to Mary Kate Olsen about jeans.

You walk really fast everywhere and get frustrated when tourists can't work out how to use the turnstiles in the subway.

You sometimes feel that your love life could be mistaken for an episode of Sex & The City but not the one ending with "happily ever after". And you're actually OK with that.

You have only used your oven for the first time 18 months after you moved in, cooking Thanksgiving dinner for friends.

You plan your social calendar like a military campaign.

Your bible is the New York Magazine.

You feel guilty about your hedonistic lifestyle but yet can't give it up.

You have a local breakfast place and a local bar where you don't need to order anymore as the waiters know what you want without you asking for it.

.... And you are looking forward to be out of the City for a couple of weeks but also can't wait to come back to it.

The Office

My office is not exactly the kind of a place where laughter is heard much. Rows upon rows of grey cubicles don't seem conducive to it somehow.

Humour does feature but in very cautious, "above the belt" ways, and when I moved to the US I was warned that my days of swearing outloud at work were over as it is very much frowned upon here - at least in the corporate world. It couldn't be more different from London where trading salacious remarks all day long is part and parcel of office life.

While I try my best to be serious and behave in the way that is expected in my position, I find it hard to completely stifle the rather British sense of humour I have acquired in my 10 years of living in the UK.

So for your amusement, I will share some of the most politically incorrect situations I have found myself in.

* During an agency meeting - involving around 6 agency staff working for me, one of my direct reports and my internal business partners (including a VP) - we discussed the relative importance of ad formats in driving conversions. We were concluding that larger ad sizes drove the best results and to my utter disbelief, I found myself exclaiming outloud "well, bigger is usually better!". I just couldn't help myself. Cue much laughter in the meeting room and embarrassed blushing from me. I seem to remember that the VP was still chuckling to himself about it after the meeting was over.

* In a one-to-one meeting with a manager working for me, we were discussing an upcoming Affiliate Marketing conference we were both going to attend in Boston. He told me that they were holding a "meet market" where affiliates and publishers could network and mingle. I couldn't hold a straight face when I told him that I had been to a few "meat markets" in my time and always found them to be much fun.

* In another agency meeting, again involving agency staff and internal business partners, we reviewed targeting in Media buys. One of our media buyers was explaining that some forms of targeting available in the market still have to be vetted from a privacy standpoint and were therefore not quite legal yet. I looked up from the deck we were reviewing and said "barely legal?". I think they are still talking about that one.

* While in a meeting this week, Larry & I were both on our blackberries so I emailed him saying I liked his jumper. He replied asking if I wanted to make out later. We both managed to keep a straight face but still got caught by Larry's VP who jokingly asked us to stop sending love notes to each other in front of a shocked but amused room full of people!

I like to think that my US colleagues have accepted my rather unorthodox comments and ways. If anything, I seem to provide free entertainment from time to time.