An English Girl in New York: A Permanent Reminder

My first tattoo was done in Spain under the influence of a fair few vodka and oranges around six years ago. And with Spanish measures much more generous than English ones, it’s fair to say I was a tad tipsy. It’ some kind of Celtic squiggle thing on my lower back, very unoriginal, but can be seem by only a select few. It’s not for public consumption and that’s what I like about it. I’ve never been a fan of tattoos that are really obvious, especially on women.

I don’t want to waltz down the aisle one day in the wedding dress of my dreams, only for my guests to be looking on in horror at the skull and cross bones inked on my shoulder and the barbed wire ring around my bicep. Not so ladylike. If that’s your bag, great, it’s just not mine.

That said, I’d been thinking about a second tattoo for a while and New York was the place I was gonna get it. We went to Village Pop in Greenwich Village, the exact same place BF got his first ever tattoo six years ago, and made our selection.

Oh yeah, did I mention that I’m pants with pain? Yeah, well I am. So I looked away as my tattoo-laiden artist went to work on my wrist. It only took about 15 minutes and it wasn’t that bad – nowhere near as bad as the one on my back, that brought tears to my eyes – just an annoying scratching pain.

I plumped for the Arabic symbol for “to shine” on the side of my wrist. Obvious enough to be seen by those who are looking, yet subtle enough to hide it if I want to. Classy isn’t a word I’d use to describe a permanent tattoo, but this one ain’t half bad and serves as a permanent reminder of my fabulous trip to New York. It rocks.

An English Girl in New York: The River Cafe

Okay, you’re in New York city and want a quality meal out. Fine wine, fine food, atmosphere and a view to die for. Where do you go? That’s easy, The River Café, of course, which is just over the bridge in Brooklyn. And if you’re feeling romantical, then this is the place for you.

My evening started with a cab ride to the Ritz Carlton Hotel near Battery Park which boasts a bar on the 14th floor with spectacular views across to Miss Liberty herself. Sadly though, this bar was closed due to a private function, so instead we took up two seats in the downstairs bar where we were served by the best waiter ever.

I have no idea what the barman’s name was, we called him Steve but not to his face, and he totally rocked. He was impeccably polite, but not creepy or overbearing, and his service and timings were perfect. Just when you wanted to wipe your hands on a napkin, there he was with a napkin in hand. Just when you wanted a refill, there he was with the bottle. And just before you asked for the bill – or should I say check – there he was with it already in his fingertips. Genius. He was also very funny.

After a pre-dinner drink and chit-chat with Steve we took another cab to City Hall and proceeded to walk across the well-lit Brooklyn Bridge. The rules of this walk? Don’t look back until you get half way across. And you won’t be disappointed because when I turned around, the view was spectacular. The view of the Manhattan skyline at 9.15pm was stunning.

After a 20 minute walk across the bridge, at the other side and perched on top of the Hudson River, is The River Café. Booking’s essential if you want a table and the dress code is strict – jackets for the guys, and they can’t take them off even if they get hot, and dresses for the gals. This place is proper posh.

After a drink at the bar we were shown to our table. We didn’t get a table by the window as requested but we weren’t far away. Window seats are clearly reserved for those with dollar signs in their eyes or old and ugly men who can afford to pay for two pretty blonde “girl friends” to join him at the table.

All seats at all tables are positioned so every diner gets the benefit of the breath-taking view across the river to Manhattan. The tables are fairly close together so conversations can be overheard but the restaurant is small and there’s a nice atmosphere. There’s nothing worse than being able to hear the chink of knives and forks as people eat, I much prefer a conversational buzz around the place, and that’s what we got.

The menu – priced at $95 per head for three courses – will get your tastebuds watering and the wine menu may well take you a day to read with approximately 400 bottles to choose from, some of them with price tags close to my monthly salary.

We plumped for oysters and steak tartare to start with, lobster and steak for main course and then a cheesecake and a chocolate pudding made to look like the Brooklyn Bridge for pud. Very clever. And all washed down with red wine for him, white wine for her.

Despite some dodgy reviews about the service, I thought it was fine. We weren’t rushed away from our table – good job as we booked for 9.30pm – and the waiters were polite and helpful, even if one guy did look at me in horror when he announced the arrival of my medium rare steak and I told him I’d asked for it rare. It was indeed rare, he just got confused and looked utterly relieved when I sliced into it and blood poured out.

Without a doubt, this is a really romantic setting – there are fairy lights everywhere – and possibly not somewhere you’d want to go on a girls’ night out. It’s made for couples or those with more money than sense. Let’s not beat about the bush here, the meal was very expensive, but it was an evening to treasure and the pre-dinner drink and walk across Brooklyn Bridge just added to the magic. A night to remember.

An English Girl in New York: Empire State v Rockefeller

As far as views across Manhattan go, the Empire State Building is the vantage point most well known. The city’s tallest building following the destruction of the World Trade Center, it towers over New York, but I have to confess that it’s not all that.

I climbed the Empire State almost 10 years ago and had clearly forgotten about the massive queues, cramped lifts and people scrabbling at the top to peek through the metal railings.Had I remembered, I may have crossed it off my “to do” list.

We queued for pretty much two-and-a-half hours – to get up and to get back down again and probably spent 15 measly minutes up there in total. We went up at night time, to see the city in all it’s lit up glory, but we spent that quarter of an hour jostling elbows, grappling to get to the front and trying to take photos through the metal railings which made you feel a bit like you were in a cage. It was so busy it just wasn’t that enjoyable and, in my honest opinion, not worth the wait. Of course, everyone who visits New York wants to say they’ve climbed the Empire State, but the view is a tad obscured because of where the building sits.

Now, the Rockefeller Center is a whole other ball game and comes top of my list in terms of views. @MikeNolan was the bearer of this information in a comment on this blog post, stating the views from the Rockefeller observatory deck were much better. And he was so right.

We went up at around 5pm, when the skies were still bright blue and filled with sunshine, and there wasn’t a single person queuing to get up there. Bonus! We were at the top in five minutes – and the lift was much snazzier with an electronic/animation roof type thing to look at on the way up. The observatory desk was on three levels, each one offering an amazing view of Manhattan and, in particular, the whole of Central Park, which is totally obscured from the top of the Empire State.

Instead of unsightly metal railings, viewers are protected by glass and it’s so quiet up there you can wander around without fear of bumping into anyone. Of course, there will be the odd Japanese tourist who will insist on standing in front of the telescope you’ve just paid to use for a limited amount of time, but as soon as they shift out of the way, oblivious to the irritation they’ve caused, then you can see what people are eating for lunch in Central Park. Now that’s what I call zoom!

And there are also places to sit at the top of Rockefeller so you can take the weight off your feet and admire the views, as though you’re on top of the world. Amazing. So, Empire State out, Rockefeller Center in!

An English Girl in New York: The Arrival

Okay, so we’re waiting in the immigration queue at JFK, full of beans that we’re about to start a four-day adventure in New York and a little jaded from a long flight and very little sleep. We were also a tad scared that the scary immigration men wouldn’t let us through. Those guys have power and they’re not afraid to use it.

The BF stepped up first and I watched, intrigued, as he was asked to scan his fingers and thumbs and smile for the camera as his passport and Visa ap was scrutinised greatly. No mention was made that he would be celebrating his 29th birthday in the States just three days later.

When I stepped up, the uniformed chap opened up my passport and laughed. What was this? An immigration dude relaxing his serious stature and laughing? “Ha ha!” he chuckled. “I see you have a big birthday coming up in a couple of months. How do you feel about that?”

OMG. I’m very sensitive about my rapidly approaching 30th birthday, so much so I intend on boycotting it, so for this guy to bring it up while at my most vulnerable – being photographed and scanned after missing a night’s sleep – made me feel a tad abused. I replied: “I can’t believe you’ve just mentioned that! I’m trying to forget about it and you’ve just reminded me. I’m now going to go and kill myself in your country.” This was possibly not the wisest thing to say when I was trying to gain entry to the good old US of A, but he laughed some more and said: “At least I made you smile.” This was true.

And so, our adventure in New York New York – so great they named it twice – began. We bundled into a yellow cab, so much more exciting than the London black ones, and headed towards Greenwich Village and the Washington Square Hotel. Our room wasn’t ready so we wandered five minutes away to Washington Square Park – where a fair chunk of I Am Legend was filmed – and parked ourselves on a bench in the glorious sunshine and soaked up some rays while enjoying the start of fall with the rest of the Americans. It really did feel like home.

New York has this strange hold over people – Jay-Z’s Empire State of Mind sums it up well – and it really does feel like anything’s possible. Yes, the New Yorkers can be brash and blunt but they just say what they mean and mean what they say. They don’t pussy foot around issues like us Brits and don’t feel the need to waste their breath by using unnecessary words. They also talk very loudly so there’s no need for this “pardon”, “can you repeat that” business.

After checking into the hotel and freshening up we then proceeded to force our jet-lagged bodies to walk 20 blocks to take in the sights. To be honest, despite the underlying tiredness, adrenaline propelled me forward and I ignored the twinges in my neck as I looked up to take in the likes of the Flatiron building (my favourite), the Empire State, and the Chrysler Building. Then there was the New York Public Library, Grand Central Station and the delights of Fifth Avenue. But there was no time for shopping! Oh no. You can shop in the UK, this holiday was for exploring, our only clothing purchases the whole break being two NYPD hoodies. Freeze!

So worth losing sleep over

At approximately 2am tomorrow I will be rubbing sleep from my eyes and making my way to the shower in a sleep-induced semi coma after just a few hours catching zzzzs in bed. But it will be so worth it!

I am a self-confessed sleep addict. I love it, I crave it and I hate getting out of bed. A morning person I am not. So why drag myself out of my steaming pit at the same time Milton Keynes revellers will be pouring out of Oceana in an alcohol-inspired stuper? Well, because I have me a flight to catch, that’s why.

Tomorrow morning me and my travel companion – a new addition to my life and definitely a keeper – will be checking onto a flight from Heathrow to New York’s JFK where our four-day adventure begins. And it’s going to be awesome.

We have a packed itinerary, including dinner at The River Café – check out those views! – seats at a New York Rangers game and plenty of down time in Central Park. And the sun is forecast to shine down on us.

One thing I don’t think we’ll get round to though is the Natural History Museum because, having watched Night at the Museum last night, I know I’ll only be disappointed when the exhibits don’t come to life – and I really want to play fetch with T-Rex.

My usual efficient self has been dumbed down this week due to a manic pre-New York schedule and desire to sleep, so tonight is dedicated to packing. I get teased about the endless lists I make – what to pack, chores to get done, work tasks to complete, shopping lists, itinerary etc – but I really can’t speak highly enough of pen and paper when it comes to getting things done.

I can empathise with the 500 Days of Summer character who was labelled “anal girl” when she was younger, ‘cos that’s probably me. But I like to know what’s what. There’s no point rocking up in New York only to find I’ve left my comfy trainers at home and have no idea what I want to see and do. And where is the sense in trekking up and down Manhattan visiting endless tourist attractions that are miles apart? Planning, you see, allows you to make the best use of time.

That’s not to say I don’t like spontaneity  though, I’m all for spur of the moment and surprise, but when time is of the essence, planning pays.

So tonight will be dedicated to a) packing and ticking off the “to do” list, b) making sure home is nice and tidy so we can return next week to a cosy and chore-free haven and c) ordering in a take-away so there are no dirty dishes to contend with. And hopefully I’ll get an early night too.

That said, packing will take me ages, even if I do have a list. For boys it’s easy – jeans, t’shirts, a jumper and a pair of shoes. Add some shaving cream and deodorant and they’re good to go. And their iPhone, passport and wallet will fit snugly in their pocket.

For girls it’s a different story. We have too many clothing items to choose from and need to look stylish at all times. I don’t want to let Carrie Bradshaw and co down now do I? And you need to account for different kinds of weather, low heels for walking, high heels for evening, and a bag small enough to be practical but big enough to hold the essential items – purse, phone, book, magazine, tissues, wet wipes, keys, make-up, passport, travel documents, umbrella, compact mirror etc. It’s a big task. No doubt.

So, my friends, once I’ve zipped and locked my suitcase and put it by the front door in case I forget it – as if!! – then I can let myself get swept away with the excitement. New York, New York here I come. So good they named it twice!

New York, New York

Since I was a kid I’ve had a bit of an obsession with the old US of A. I was always drawing the American flag in my sketch books – 13 stripes and 50 stars don’t ya know – and I invested a fair amount of time learning all 50 states in alphabetical order so I could recite them off by heart.

I always said I’d visit each and every one of those states during my lifetime but so far I haven’t made much of a dent. I’ve enjoyed trips to Florida, Nevada, Arizona and New York, touching down briefly in Chicago, Illinois, to change planes but there’s loads more out there I need to discover.

My next trip isn’t going to get me any nearer to that ambition either ‘cos I’m making a return trip to New York – and I can’t bloomin’ wait. The first time I went I had the misfortune of staying in a hovel of a hostel (pee stink, exposed electrics and lunatic residents ain’t my bag baby) and travelled with people who were more concerned that the butter didn’t taste the same as back home than the fact I had neck ache from staring up at amazing skyscrapers constantly.

That said, it still rocked. I achieved one of my ambitions – to climb to the top of the Statue of Liberty, her crown though, not the torch, as it wasn’t deemed safe to go up there. The crown was scary enough as the wind made Liberty sway from side to side and it was a hairy climb into her head, with nothing but a narrow spiral staircase and a rope between me and a big drop to the bottom. Me and heights do not get along.

We also made it up the Empire State Building – thank God for lifts – and while I did briefly sneak a peak over the edge at the breath-taking cityscape, I was much happier standing in the middle of the building. I repeat, me and heights do not get along.

This trip’s going to be much better because I’m older, wiser (debateable) and going with someone who shares my passion for the city. What I haven’t told my travel companion is that the last two visits to the US of A have made me throw up, literally, and without explanation.

In New York – when the twin towers were still standing proud – I felt dreadfully nauseous and while my mate got a makeover at the make-up counter in Macy’s (she ended up looking like a clown), I hid in the toilets retching. A few years later on my trip to Las Vegas I threw up in the middle of the Strip and right outside the Treasure Island Hotel. I had nowhere to run, it happened that fast. I have no idea why this happened, on either occasion. I first thought long haul flights were to blame but I’ve been to Dubai a couple of times since with no vomit in sight. Maybe it’s an America thing or maybe I’ve just grown out of whatever it is. Yes, I am a bit random sometimes.

Anyway, back to my trip. We’re staying in Greenwich Village, a cool little area which oozes creative vibes – musicians, writers and other talented folk have stayed there and I’m hoping it’ll fill me with inspiration for my own  literary ramblings.

I also want to do lots of walking, as much as I love the yellow taxi cabs and the recorded audio messages warning you to “buckle up” when you clamber into them, I think you take more in when you’re walking. It’s the reason I often ditch the London tubes (plus my phobia of public transport) to walk to my destination and take in the sights and sounds.

There are plenty of things I want to see and do but mostly I want to soak up the NYC vibes with my travel buddy and create some new and cool memories.  Let the countdown begin.

My passion for tacky fridge magnets

Have I ever told you that I collect tacky fridge magnets? Probably not, ‘cos it’s not something most people would want to boast about. But I do, the tackier the better. That said, all fridge magnets are tacky so it’s not hard.

This week has been particularly fruitful in the fridge magnet stakes, bagging three of the not so precious items – from Mauritius, New York and Portugal. Excellent work, Smithers.

I have quite a collection now, my favourites being a Cornish pasty from Cornwall, which actually looks more like a dead turkey; a fetching wooden shield type thing from Prague;  a snow globe magnet from the French Alps boasting a picture of a husky dog; and a paella dish from Spain. Classics.