Baseball Lessons and Juxtaposition in NYC

Having been told that the next day would be my last and thus having realised my ambition of surviving my internship with no major mishaps (yet. There's always still time I guess) it seemed like a good time to fulfill my other ambition; that of learning the rules of baseball. Or softball. Is there a difference?? I'm not sure.

Anyway, there's a pitch really close to where we're staying so I trotted off to be American and sit on the bleachers and say stuff like 'Way to go!' Basically, it's rounders, isn't it? Rounders with some added rules for complication and more equipment and some magical cue where they all know that it's time to swap who's batting and who's fielding.

So maybe I'm not entirely sure of all the rules yet, but I'm definitely getting there. Sitting on the wooden bleachers in the warm evening eating cherries and watching the baseball game in all its Americaness was perfect. And it made me want to join a sports team! It was all so jolly and friendly that me and Rain have decided that at uni we're going to become members of every club going. I haven't played netball in years but there's no reason why I shouldn't start again.

We especially loved the white tops with red sleeves in true baseball style.

Once the game had ended (I do know who won but only because of their jubilation - I got the impression that they were the underdogs and not very used to winning) we came up with the really bright idea that we simply had to see the Statue of Liberty at night. Obviously, we're poor students and so never want to spend any more money than we need to, which basically translates as spending no money on anything but clothes and sustenance, and so decided that we could totally not get the ferry and just, like, see it from the shore. And so we headed out to the river.

Once we got there we realised that our bright idea was maybe not so bright and that if you squint really hard you can just about make out the Statue of Liberty in the darkness. So that was a teeny bit of a fail.

But the river at night was beautiful. All the lights blinked back at their reflection in the river and Brooklyn Bridge was lit up like Christmas and the half moon hung over the water. It was like magic, especially as we stumbled upon the wistful clearing of the waterfront out of the urban jungle of the financial district totally by accident and without warning. As we drifted down the river we were drawn to the lights and cool bustle of Pier 17, which once again showed the way that New York is a city of contradictions and juxtaposition. Everything that conflicts is next to each other, and somehow match perfectly.

Pier 17 had loads of bars and restaurants, and some cool little stalls, and a couple of uber cool people dancing, which seems obligitory everywhere you go in New York. We keep making plans for when we all (the six of us girls) come back here when we're all 21. Until then, we've vowed to treat London differently; more like we're on holiday, more like it's the first time we're seeing it and less like everywhere takes ages to get to and probably wont be worth it when we get there.

Wise Words and Inspiration from Valentino

I went print crazy today and wore my low back Aztec print vest with my silk and fringed purple baroque swirl kimono and white city shorts. I love a good bit of print and colour clashing.

I have also been inspired by Harper's to get more red in my wardrobe. And like, actually wear it too. Valentino said that 'red is the colour that never fades into the background' and I think that it's time I stop fading into the background and started standing out a bit more. No one's ever going to fall in love with me if they can't even see me.

This inspiration came about because a recent Harper's image was needed for a banner on the website, so it needed to work horizontally. It was my task to set about finding this image, which was lovely because I got to trawl through the well section - the bit with all the beautiful pictures and fashion shoots - of all the magazines. I found a couple which I thought might work and Lisa and I then went through them and picked out our favourites. It took me nearly all day which, seeing as how I'm the girl who takes several old copies of Vogue and Harper's and Elle babysitting with me so that I can spend hours tearing out photos and images and ads to stick on my wall, it was pretty much a perfect day.

The final choice that they chose from the two pictures we sent them was of a girl standing in the desert in a scarlet chiffon gown that was caught spectacularly in the wind. I guess Valentino knows his stuff...

Failing the red tactic, I might just go about shouting. Here, as soon as I open my mouth I get more attractive. A man serving me coffee today told me I have a 'beautiful accent'.

Then, finally, when all else has proved useless, I'll dare to stare. Several people I know swear by it.

Spiritual Home

I'd arranged to meet Rain after work on Tuesday in Little Italy, because it's really close to where she works at Storefront Gallery in Nolita/Soho area. I am SUCH a subway pro, and only had to quickly double check that the train I was getting on went to Grand Street. The guy I asked wasn't sure but the train doors don't stay open for long so I leaped on regardless, because I was pretty sure I was right and I didn't want him to miss his train because of me. And then, bless him, he went off and had a look and I was completely unaware and he was like, yeah it does, and I was just like awww New Yorkers are so nice!

Anyway, I successfully reached Grand Street and successfully reached Mulberry Street which is the hub of Little Italy and successfully met Rain there. The only flaw in our very successful execution of our very successfully thought out plan was that Rain had, right at the last minute, been asked to return to work at seven, meaning we only had an hour to eat.

But it was fine! We found a lovely little Italian restaurant (not hard, I have to say) and explained that we needed to be quick and they were very helpful. We sat outside on cute rickety wooden furniture and the food was delicious, and very authentically Italian, and the people were lovely. Rain had to dash off but I spent a bit of time wandering about Little Italy. Several old men sat outside an Italian restaurant and yelled amicably at each other in Italian. A beautiful old car, which was properly 'car shaped', like the type that kids draw, and bronze, also sat outside with it's windows down and nobody in it, blaring out old jazz and Latino tunes which really made me feel like I was on the set of Arthur Millers 'A View of The Bridge'. I was once again struck by the crazyness and randomness of the city, and the way that, on every street, there's something different going on; as I returned to Grand Street Subway station and walked through Chinatown I had to weave through pairs of people crouching on the pavement having their palms read and heed a warning of 'HEADS' to avoid a wayward basketball from an impromptu match that had broken out on the corner.

It was still quite early when I got back to 59th Street so I took the scenic route home through the park. I love that the bike hire is open 24 hours a day and that the skateboarders were still showing off by the fountain. The city that never sleeps also never disappoints.

It's Tough But Someone's Gotta Do It

On Tuesday Lisa sent me on errand. I had to take some weird like bit of paper (it might have been about people getting paid. I do not know) to a building on West 37th Street at Fifth Avenue. Hearst Tower is on West 57th at Eighth Avenue. It was an hour round trip, although I was walking quite slowly because it was quite hot and there was lots of interesting stuff to look at, like the Yayoi Kusama spotted Louis Vuitton store. In fact, I walked all the way down Fifth Avenue (which, now that I think about it, may have been a bit of a long way round and so may have also added to the journey time) and ahhh it was amazing. All the designer shops, all the beautiful window displays, all the people being whisked out of said stores and into waiting cars who just exuded money. Lots and lots of money. Economic crisis what now?

My favourite window had just one beautiful dress in it. It was flapper style, with white feathers forming the skirt, and from the drop waist up it was made of hundreds of tiny pearls. It was gorgeous and for a moment I had to stop and stare and then remind myself that it's rude to leave one's mouth open like that. It was exactly what I had imagined my prom dress to look like and almost found (and thank God I didn't found it! I love the dress I wore to our leavers ball, but I wouldn't have been able to wear it knowing that my fantasy dress existed in actuality and was horribly, horribly out of my price range).

It was such a great excursion; sipping smoothie in the sunshine as I wandered around New York is a really poor excuse for work. 

That afternoon I did more archive stuff and admin-y bits and pieces. I love sitting with the art department folk; all the pictures are stunning and the girls look gorgeous and those shoes are simply diviiine. I've also seen the editing first hand. I know we've all been told it but it's true; those long legs we're all so jel of? Yeah, they're fake. 

Perfection really doesn't exist. So that was a nice confidence boost.

There was also a raffle which, sadly, I wasn't involved in, but basically it consisted of the staff getting designer bags. Lots and lots of designer bags. Amber, who sits behind me, won the most expensive item; a huge cream leather Louis Vuitton affair which caused a little frisson of envy to pass through the office. She promptly emptied everything out of her old bag and didn't put it down for the rest of the day. 

Side note: I wore my new Mango silk coral dress with cut out back. Tres Chic. 

Last Times

omg I'm so sad. To think that this is the last time that I'll walk down Eighth Avenue to work and stop off for my fruit salad and coffee; that this is the last time I'll use my visitor card to get into Hearst Tower; the last time I'll tell the doorman to have a nice day; the last time that I'll be corrected for calling 'beets' 'beetroot' whilst ordering my salad at Balduccios; the last time that I'll suddenly catch sight of the view out of the glass walls and be totally awed.

It's so strange; I'm so comfortable here now. In the morning I greet Lisa and settle down at my desk and check my emails, and I know where everything is and how everything works and more or less who everyone is. Compared to the nervous and unsure new girl who arrived last Monday I feel so different!    

I left slightly earlier than normal so that I could buy flowers from the stall near work and Rain and I spent ages last night dithering over what to write in our thank you cards. Lisa was so sweet when I gave it all to her; all 'Ohh don't be silly you didn't have to!' and gave me a hug. I really like her, she's laid back and cool but also really on everything so she should be intimidating, but she's not, she's really sweet and has made this whole experience so worthwhile and fun for me when it could easily have been awful. 

Today her friend came in to show her some clothes from her resort collection from a design called Isola Isabella and she let me sit in. It was so exciting and they were all lovely! 

She lives on a boat because her and her husband sail those massive yachts that rich people hire out, so she's sailed the world. I'm pretty sure I'm not describing this properly, but her life sounded so exciting! I now want to go  on a boat to track wales for six weeks straight after university and then basically never get off. What a way to see the world! We had quite a long chat about my trip round Europe, with Rome apparently being her favourite city after New York. 

So her designs stemmed from watching women on these yachts and what they pack and what they actually wear, and how 'vacation' clothes need to work better. Apparently, the idea was not just 'beach to bar or day to night, but day to night and then home too'. So all the clothes were beautiful blues and corals and pinks, inspired by the cobbled streets and roof tiles of Italy, all in gorgeously soft silk fabrics. I'm not a fashion writer so I don't know how to properly describe the beautiful draping of the skirts or the perfect pleats of the silk drawstring waist shorts or the high necked low scoop back blouse which perfectly fulfilled my backless garment fantasies, but trust me, they were lovely. Lisa put on a blue maxi with a waterfall skirt over her clothes and then just kept it on for the rest of the meeting, which I loved. And I wanted to steal the silk shorts, they were so impractical and lovely that I just adored them. Thankfully, I didn't need to steal anything. They gave me a lilac silk 'romper' (which I thiiiink means playsuit) that Lisa said I had to take because I would look super cute in it and it would brighten up rainy London. And after that reasoning, how could I refuse. I'm so excited to try it on! 

Sadness

omg tomorrow's my last day! Lisa just told me she's moving house on Friday so she wont be in which means I wont be in.

Sadness!!! I can't believe it's ending already, it's gone so quickly.

I've got a box of truly British Fortnum and Mason biscuits sorted already and will write a thank you card and am going to buy flowers tomorrow morning.
So the big question now is; which planned outfit do I ditch?? This is a serious dilemma.

NY Defeats Hardy Brits.

We so enjoyed Roman Holiday in Bryant Park last week that on Monday night we decided to return. We had no idea what film was playing, but it's the kind of cool place that will always be showing something either totally unheard of and weird and amazing, or a complete classic, and either one seemed good. Plus, the amazing setting and fun of a picnic (I am actually obsessed with picnics. I do not know why, but I love them. At every opportunity, I want to have a picnic) mean that even if you do hate the film, it wont be a bad evening. 

Unfortunately, however, the weather decided to conspire against us. We arrived early in order to nab a good spot (and have a picnic, obvs) but just twenty minutes before the film was due to begin it started to rain. Us being the hardy British girls that we are weren't perturbed. All my childhood summer holidays were spent sitting on a cold beach in England, resolutely refusing to be beaten by anything as irrelevant as a spot of driving rain. So we huddled under our umbrella and scorned at all the soft Americans hurriedly folding their picnic blankets and running away. 

But then the rain got distinctly heavier and the thunder started and with it our hardy Brit-Gal attitude began to soften, so that when a lightening bolt scarred the sky and there were puddles forming in our laps, even we had to admit that maybe it was time to go home. We gathered up our stuff and left, but having done the classic British thing of, in the midst of a torrential downpour, optimistically believing that it would clear up in two minutes, when we did, finally, admit defeat, we, and all our possessions, were really very wet. 

The weather had beaten us. 

Yes, we are ashamed. We hang our heads. We have let our country down. 

But moving on; we returned home and got dry and stopped looking like bedraggled rats. We even managed to skype some friends because it was still early enough that it wasn't actually four in the morning back home. 

They were at a party, but put us on video so that we could make an appearance because, obviously, a party isn't a party without our presence and we were clearly being greatly missed. No show without Punch. 

It all got a bit raucous and we couldn't really hear what was being said, apart from every now and then someone telling everyone else to err, put it in polite terms, go away. So we decided that maybe skyping at a party doesn't work that well and so we said our farewells. 

Then we finished off our picnic sitting cross legged on Rain's bed and laughed until our tummies hurt. 

Harper's Fashion Inspiration

To start off the new week I wore an electric blue calf length pleated skirt, which I felt banished any Monday Morning Blues anyone else in the office might have been feeling after their long week end, with a white crochet vest. I thought it was v cool. 

I spent the day doing various bits of admin and I'm also spending a lot of time sorting out the archives, so am totally immersed in vintage Harper's, which is also v cool and total fashion inspiration: I am so feeling some drop waist beaded flapper dresses with a feather head band right now. 

I always love a good bit of vintage clothes shopping, but am feeling really fired up for a hunt now! I know there are some vintage/second hand clothes markets in the East Village on week ends; I might have to get down there next Saturday and take several hours to trawl through their goodies. Vintage New York is definitely something my wardrobe needs...

I do think that London girls have an edgier, more individual style than all the well tuned out New Yorkers I've seen. Maybe in Brooklyn and Williamsburg, where everything is renowned for being slightly more daring and bold, this isn't so much the case, but here in Manhattan the style is very cool, very fashionable, very in; very safe. Vintage, hand made or customised isn't something you see a lot of. 

Maybe that was why my Chanel inspired black and white dogtooth jacket, with my addition of sewn on fur collar, received some serious admiration. 

And I know that the jacket sounds ridiculous in this heat, but seriously, with this air con, a fur coat is needed. 

Damn. I missed a trick there. 

Summer Lovin' Happens So Fast

No, I have not fallen in love. Sorry to disappoint you all. No, we did something much better than that! We went to an original 1950s diner, reminiscent of Greece and Happy Days and the golden years of Elvis Presley. 

After our excursion to the zoo, it was felt that we were in need of some good ol' American sustenance because, you wouldn't think it I know, but the zoo really is quite tiring and everyone has to go to an American diner for burgers and milkshakes (and maybe throw said milkshake all over a leather jacket clad, DA combing love rat, Greece style) at least once whilst they're in New York.

We got so into the whole recreating Greece thing that we were tempted to dress up. We just about restrained ourselves...

 

Ellen's Stardust Diner, on Broadway, had been recommended to us several times as the Diner With A Difference. The difference being that the waiters sing. That's right, whilst you're being served your burger and fries with double chocolate shake, the waiters belt out songs ranging from Disney classics to Rhianna.

They're all good too! Our waitress, who was wearing lace tights and had three sparkly blue star stickers trailing from one eye, sang a very good Beyonce cover and there was even a small amount of opera at one point. A wonderfully camp waiter in very tight trousers informed us that their dream was not to work at Ellen's Stardust Diner and serve us fries, but rather to perform in a Broadway Musical. They also named several past 'Stardusters' who have now achieved the dream and, through ever so slightly gritted teeth, told us how happy they all were for them. Apparently our tips go on singing lessons, so we got to feel that we helped our starry eyed waitress achieve her dream. Yay.

The decor was fantastic too. It was literally as though we had stepped back into the 1950s; old vinyls and classic pin ups decorated the walls, and the red seated booths made us feel as though Danny Zuko and all the Pink Ladies could come sit down beside us at any moment. We were wishing we were in poodle skirts or peddle pushers.

 

We had been warned that the food wasn't great, but I really enjoyed my veggie burger and iced coffee float, although it probably was a little overpriced, and the puddings and sundaes all sounded amaaaazing so I'd recommend going in the afternoon for a sweet treat to sustain you through a hot afternoon exploring New York. You could probably avoid the queue that way too, although that really wasn't long.

 

Our favourite part of the evening was actually just as we had paid and were about to leave. I was just standing up as the unmistakable first chords of 'Summer Loving' began. Clearly, we sat back down.

 

It was again a totally random, crazy evening and, again, summed up the spirit of New York pretty well. I would never sing along with my Broadway standard waiters whilst eating a veggie burger and actually enjoy it and not feel like a total goon anywhere else. Maybe it's because I'm on holiday and you always feel you can do crazy stuff you'd never normally do on holiday. Or maybe it's because I'm in New York and the contagious attitude of the city is rubbing off on me.

Home Comforts

Skype finally started working and I received several long emails from back home so that all of a sudden, and straight after I'd lamented on how great New York is in comparison to London, I felt home sick and in need of some err, comforting Home Comforts.
New York sure is great (phrase of the day I feel. I'll start saying 'uhuh' very cheerily in response to 'thank you' soon) but the thought of a strong cup of tea with a slice of Mama Williams banana bread, walking the dog in Richmond Park, reading The Times, or even getting on the tube, is suddenly very appealing!
Ahh well, off out for more randomness in New York City this evening, so I'm sure I'll get over that pretty quickly...

Rain and Roz go to the Zoo.

We woke up gloriously late after our night of live music and disrupted subways.

I once again headed to Central Park - how can I resist its charm when it's just thirty seconds from my door and the weather is so glorious?! - and sat in the dappled shade listening to the jazz of two buskers. A little girl and her dad danced in front of them.

There is a lot of dancing in this crazy city.

The endless stream of cyclists, runners, skaters and even the occasional horse and cart swept along below me.

I read a book and applied suntan lotion. It was perfect. Again.

And THEN we went to Central Park Zoo. Jump up and down in excitement on my behalf y'all! I certainly know one person who will be very jealous.

There was a bit of a queue, but we were determined to go, so we stuck it out, and it really didn't take very long. Plus, the price of an adult ticket is only $12, which we were very pleasantly surprised by.

It's actually quite small and there are no lions. NO LIONS. However, I got over this when I saw the polar bear. omg excitement. It was huge and much yellower than I expected and very sleepy. The snow leopard turned into The Mysterious Case of the Disappearing Snow Leopard which, don't panic, is a lot less dramatic than it sounds; we couldn't see it, there were some grumpy children and one growling fat man threatening to sue but it hadn't actually escaped. The penguins smelt very fishy but waddle in such self important manner that I just find them hilarious. The red faced and red bottomed baboons were so funny and human like that we watched them for hours, as they fought and played and groomed. The reptile house and bug world was seriously creepy, although the giant green frog and inflated toad made me wish other people were here already and every single furry animal and fluffy face made me miss my dog, despite not actually looking anything like the old fat border terrier he is. The sea lion show was very clever, with Frisbee throwing, ball catching, somersault practising sea lions reigniting my childhood ambition of being a zoo keeper all over again. I thiiink you might need, like, a PHD in biology but a Biology AS Level is basically the same, right...?

After we'd seen all the animals and watched the sea lion show, we sat in front of their pool on the steps in the centre of the zoo, surrounded by the trees of Central Park, the beautiful apartments of Fifth Avenue and the skyscrapers of the city. We could even see Hearst tower, probably my very floor, from where we sat watching the sea lions gracefully swim through the water and emerge, jumping onto the rocks, showing off as they splashed and clapped.

We got really into the sea lions actually, clapping along with the toddlers every time that they leaped out of the water. We learnt all about the difference between them and seals (unlike seals they have external ear flaps and their front flippers can support their body weight. Total fact of the day right there. Aren't you glad you bothered reading this just for that titbit of information?? Impress all your friends with your sea lion knowledge!) and practically started naming them.

At that point we decided to make a move back to the park.

So we returned to our fave place in NYC; Central Park and did some more lounging, people watching, outfit critiquing, polite head shaking when approached by beggars/a man selling his poetry in the afternoon sun.

We made plans for the upcoming week, in order to squeeze the most out of our remaining time in New York.

Oh if you could hear our plans...

I'll fill you in as we do them, don't you worry!

Saturday Night Adventures

I'm horribly aware of how behind I am! I'm only just getting round to Saturday night. I promise that I will write about everything, but there's just so much to write about and so much to do that it's going to take me some time! And I've gone absurdly ocd about the whole thing and need to write about it all with out missing a single detail so that I don't forget anything. 

So I had better get going!

On Saturday night, after some research and indecision (obviously) we decided to visit Brooklyn Moon Cafe, because we still hadn't yet been to Brooklyn and this was clearly starting to concern us, an 18+ live music venue and restaurant, and then possibly head over to Cafe Wha? on McDougal street in Lower West Side, another 18+ live music venue. I know; two places in one night. We are going mental. It is the city that never sleeps after all.

It's weird that we can't drink here; we've had to totally readjust, but it does just prove that you don't need to drink to have a good time, and I do really like that we've had to find other, much cooler and more memorable, ways to enjoy ourselves. Watching Roman Holiday in Bryant Park will stay in my memory far longer than a slightly blurred memory of an evening in a random bar.

So, what with us being subway pros these days, we hopped on the subway (and were delighted to discover that our cards that we'd bought when we arrived - a sort of temporary Oyster card equivalent - still worked) and headed downtown towards Brooklyn. 

And then, suddenly, everything went a bit pear shaped and we were way off our planned route and destination, and had no idea how it happened. Maybe something to do with the muffled announcement which we couldn't understand and so ignored. Note to all: just because you can't understand something, doesn't mean it isn't important. We later learnt that engineering work had diverted our route. good to know that it's not just London then. 

So we got off and got back on a train going in the opposite direction back to where we'd just come from so that we could change at West 4th Street. But, when we got there were told that we'd have to do some very complex manoeuvre that involved going downtown and then back uptown in order to eventually get downtown to where we wanted to be. or something.

Anyway, it all sounded a bit complicated to us, despite our subway pro status, and so we abandoned Brooklyn Moon Cafe (meaning that we still haven't gone to Brooklyn! Severely slacking I have to say) and decided to go straight to Cafe Wha? instead, especially as, as luck would have it, we were already at the subway station that we needed to be at. Perfect! So we hurriedly left the subway before any more subway-related mishaps could occur (although... keep reading folks!) 

As soon as we came up the stairs onto ground level, we knew we'd found a pretty cool place to be. We were near Washington Park, which is where all the NYU students hang out and smoke pot, and the streets were busy and noisy, with crowds of people spilling out of crammed cafes and bars onto the pavement outside, and tiny candle lit restaurants with ad hoc table and chairs and the occasional man playing a guitar, and basement bars which doubled as tattoo parlours were emitting a thumping base. It was all so exciting. 

We quickly found the old garish lights of Cafe Wha?, and it's equally locatable queue. We called a group meeting (pretty easy when there are only two of you). We decided that standing in a queue is not how we do things. At this point I'd like to say that we used some contacts and pulled some strings and skipped the queue, but unfortunately not. Instead we chose one of the tiny candle lit restaurants with ad hoc table and chairs (no man playing a guitar) and had two very delicious salads. We chatted to the man sitting next to us for a while, who had lived in New York 20 years ago and told us how much it had all changed and improved. We also chatted to our waiter for a bit, who highly recommended Cafe Wha?, explaining that it's decor, unchanged from the '60s, and atmosphere is famous in the Lower West Village, but also highly approved of our decision to skip the queue. We also chatted to his boss for a bit who, on enquiring where we came from, informed us that he used to live in London, in Hammersmith. I was very excited by this, and couldn't get over how small this world can be sometimes. It seems so strange that he's sat on a 267 and seen the grey bricks of Hammersmith Civic Centre, just like I have, and yet here we both are, randomly, in New York. 

(As if I needed more proof of the smallness of this world, the next day I saw the man who had sat next to us in our hostel lift. We had another very nice chat about how good the food had been. And yet I can't find Oveous on the subway. Really??)

When we reached Cafe Wha? we found that there was no queue and were thus very pleased with ourselves. We went down the black painted steps to the strangely quiet underground den and pushed open the heavy door. We were greeted by a wall of noise (that is some seriously good sound proofing there) and were taken through to a long table where three very cool looking black girls sat, each with a complex quiff or array of curls and seriously sharp shoulders. They gave us a very warm hello, I immediately took their picture for them and they recommended their fave cocktails (unfortunately ID was required so we stuck to diet coke). 

We were sitting so close to the stage that the guy playing the keyboard winked at us. It was such a randomly cool collection of songs and music styles. The front man, a Sting wannabe, covered The Killers, Kanye West and The Beatles, at which I point my British pride swelled. A large gospel singer did a beautiful and upbeat version of Rolling In The Deep and my patriotism reached fever pitch. Then an absurdly tall Spaniard did three Latin American songs and a middle aged couple started to salsa and an absurdly hot girl got on stage and started doing the macarana. After that Sting swaggered back up to the mike and drawled 'Hi, I'm Johnny Cash' and launched into a fantastic rendition of Ring of Fire, much to my Johnny Cash obsessed delight. We left at midnight, when they ended their second set, because paying two cover charges (at $15 each) seemed excessive, and anyway, we didn't want to be toooo tired for our trip to the zoo (yes!! You heard it here first) the next day.

We walked the short distance back to the subway and worked out which line we could get (Blue A or C to good ol' 59th Street Columbus Circle, just in case you were wondering) and were annoyed to see that the only train we couldn't get (Blue E. Like I said; pros) was sitting at the platform. And it sat there. And it sat there. Aaaaand it sat there, meaning that the trains we could get, weren't coming. An announcement was made about a passenger needing medical assistance and shortly after two medics appeared, much to everyone's morbid fascination. What did I say about avoiding any more subway related mishaps?? Eventually a Blue A going uptown came to the other platform, and from there its only a couple of stops, so were home without any subsequent drama or delays. 

We had such an amazing evening; we feel like we're now a small part of New York music history, especially as, as we are constantly reminded, some of The Greats started in the small, locally renowned music venues that are nestled away in the depths of the city. It's definitely worth doing some research, talking to some locals, having an explore and taking a risk because the small places that are somewhat off the beaten track are like gold hidden amongst costume jewellery. 

A thousand lives: One Saturday in NYC

How does one spend a Saturday alone in New York?
This question has so many answers that planning my day whilst Rain was at work was really quite stressful; my indecision and need for perfection kicked in and I just couldn't decide what to do because ohh what if I picked the wrong thing (and the love of my life was where I'd decided not to go)?? Ohh the stress of having so many choices.

In the end I headed for the Metropolitan Museum Of Art, walking there through Central Park.
Central Park on a sunny Saturday morning is really something else. The spirit of the American Dream hangs in the air and hovers in all the well organised group activities. It is so tangible you can smell it. It sells itself to you. I want to live here and get married and have a job and children and be happy.
Whilst looking at the map of Central Park a man gave me directions, enquiring whether I wanted the quick route or the scenic route. It was very scenic but I did also get really quite lost. It didn't matter though; strolling through the park, with all its people watching and views, was a near perfect way to spend a Saturday morning.

When I did eventually reach the Met, I sat on its grand steps, just because Serena and Blair do in Gossip Girl. I'm so Upper East Side.
As I sat, a middle aged woman in a fabulous straw hat started dancing to the gospel choir who were performing, much to the embarrassment of her son.

The Met was brilliant.
I was truly inspired by some of it, scrawling away notes and ideas in my shabby notebook.
I became obsessed with Georgia O'Keeffe, standing for hours in front of her outrageously suggestive close ups of petals and unfurling flowers. I was reminded of Angela Carter and her celebration of the sensual and female sexuality. I was transfixed.
My spell was only broken when a boy asked me if I liked it. 'Like' is maybe the wrong word; I was attracted and drawn to it. I found myself telling him all about Carter, and its meaning, although our conversation rapidly moved on to my accent, with a demand that I say something British. He genuinely whooped with joy when I offered him a cup of tea and was equally delighted when, thanking me for my time, I shook his hand. The joys of being British.

I also became obsessed with a portrait of a naked woman, stretched out on a bed, her open eyes turned towards mine. I tried to decide what it was that made me return to that painting every time that I left it. It must have been her eyes; they were open but it was almost as though she didn't have any. They were empty and full of a hostile challenge. They were huge and blank and encapsulating.

The wooden artwork from various tribes of Oceania, central to culture and traditions, were like nothing I'd ever seen before and were fascinating and terrifying.

The beautiful Greek bust of a young man with a full head of intricate curls was also stunning; his beauty was made only more striking by the imperfections of his missing nose.

I left the Met feeling truly enriched and inspired, which I know sounds like something a teacher would say, but it's true; I want to paint close ups of flowers and drift wood, and do portraits in the style of Charles Demuth. I plan to do this asap and seriously recommend that everyone visit the Met: the beautiful glassed ceiling hall in which the Greek statues are majestically displayed is alone is worth seeing.

I then walked down Fifth Avenue, feeling very Upper East side in my cat eye sunglasses, stopping off at Barney's and Bloomingdale's for some quick (window) shopping, as well as successfully buying Salt Water Taffy on request of a friend.

It was then just a quick subway ride to my spiritual home: Little Italy. Italian New Yorkers: I couldn't really be happier and thus have already planned dinner out one evening this week in one of the many traditional Italian restaurants that line the entire length of Grand Street, which is nestled, strangely enough, in the midst of Chinatown. I wandered through here and then into Soho and the boutique shops off Broadway. I even found Topshop, which left me feeling very much like I was at home and in desperate need of a cup of tea.
By this point my feet were starting to ache and the air was just beginning to turn old and uncomfortable, the way it does in New York in summer time at late afternoon, as the day wilts and before the night has been newly born, so I hopped on the subway back to 59th Street, Columbus Circle, and once again found myself in Central Park.
I settled myself at the base of a tree and watched the picnickers and toddlers, the tourists and the dog walkers, the soft ball players and the buskers, and enjoyed several Chinese plums I had bought from a Chinese fruit stall in Chinatown (ignoring the warning that they were 'very sweet' - I thought I would probably cope - as well as the temptation of Dragon fruit, also called Chinese Kiwi, as I just didn't know how I'd ever get past the curled waxy pink leaves and into the fruit), as well as some crystallised ginger that was big in Chinatown, and absolutely delicious, although some bits were so strong it made me cough!

I lay there in a calm, heat induced stupor, until I finally found the energy to drag myself back to the hostel and in order to greet Rain from work and make plans for the evening.
I'm not sure why, perhaps due to how much I'd done, or the difference in the places I'd been to, but Saturday seemed to stretch out endlessly, far beyond the six hours I'd actually been out exploring for. The Met seemed like days ago. Time had dissipated and warped. Maybe that's what's so magical about New York City; there's so much to do see and so much to do and so many places to go that it can feel like you've lived a lifetime, as a hundred different lives, in just one short day.

To Rome With Love

Why is it more fun and way cooler to go to the cinema in a different country?

After our fab Friday off we decided that, seeing as though Rain had work the next day, we should keep our evening activities quiet. So, we decided to go to the cinema. The Lincoln Plaza is really near our hostel, so as we walked back (just before we stocked up on fruit from the fruit stall) we popped into the box office to have a look. After some indecision (we are two of the most indecisive people alive. Literally, nothing gets done) we settled on the 8.10 showing of To Rome With Love. We went home very excited.

To make the whole situation even more exciting, we still had our M&M hoard and so decided we'd munch on them whilst watching the film. However, it suddenly dawned on us that, due to our economic savvyness, we didn't really have that many, and certainly not enough to last an entire film. And so, with only a few minutes to go before the start of the film, we hurried out on an M&M hunt. It does make me laugh that so much of our time in New York has been taken up with M&Ms, but it is a totally valid way to spend time in New York. Don't let anyone tell you different. thankfully, M&Ms aren't hard to find here, so we quickly got hold of our new faves (M&Ms and pretzel, in case you're wondering. Now, I'm not a huge pretzel fan, but pretzel M&Ms don't taste like pretzels. They're just crunchy. Yum yum.) and returned to the cinema, having cleverly skipped all the ads.

It's actually a really cool cinema, with the proper writing displaying what films are on which always make me think of Greece, and is underground so that when you take the escalator down into the lobby it's like entering a heavily popcorn scented subway.
It's so strange because it was really just like being at home, only maybe like being at home in a dream, because it's all basically the same, only a little different and I'm not sure why.

Anyway, the film was really good. A bit bizarre, but what else do you expect from Woody Allen. It felt appropriate that we were watching a Woody Allen film as New York is, after all, where he started his jazz career. I also love how we've now watched two Rome based films whilst in New York. Each time they've reminded me of the beauty of Rome, and how much I've already seen and done this Summer, and how much I've still got to look forward to, and how lucky I am.

M&M Madness

The suspense must be killing you, really it must.

WE WENT TO THE M&M STORE.

It was all very exciting, although, it has to be said, that we were slightly disappointed by how much general M&M stuff there was (I mean, who really wants an M&M photo frame, hmm??) compared to how little actual M&Ms there were.
There were giant tubes of M&Ms which operate like pic n' mix (i.e is HUGELY expensive), which had the basic chocolate M&Ms in every colour under the rainbow, and also in special mixed colours, such as the NYC Yellow Taxi mix (yellow, black and grey M&Ms) and then a much smaller section for the special M&Ms, like the peanut butter M&Ms. (Just for the record and so that you can't get pissed off that I didn't ever tell you, they are amaaaaaazing. Like, out of this world. Even my partner in crime, who doesn't actually like peanut butter, is now obsessed with them. Ya'll need to be getting on that).
There were raspberry ones which I'd never seen before so decided to stock up on and which, we later discovered, taste just like chocolates you only ever seem to eat at Christmas. Apart from that, we bought nothing. I know, I know. i know that sounds like we copped out and maybeeee a built up the whole M&M trip a bit BUT it made economical sense, and we are nothing if not economically savvy, us. You see, M&Ms of every crazyyy type (coconut. Errm hello, has no one ever heard of England?? Why do we not get these jazzy flavours too?!) are on sale literally everywhere for a complete fraction of the price, so we decided to get our M&M fix from there instead. Savvy, huh? Oh well, it's the experience that counts. And my goodness, it was quite an experience. Some people are, I think, addicted to M&Ms (I can see how it happens - keep following), the size of some of those M&M filled bags were, frankly, impressive. I salute you, people of America.

Rainy NYC

So our joint day off  was a decidedly wet one, but if you think that stopped us from enjoying it, then you obviously have never been to London. We're made of stronger stuff than that.
And so despite only having one umbrella to share (buying umbrellas in a panic stricken rush in foreign countries has become a bit of a thing for me and my partner in crime, it would appear) and thus being absolutely soaked (our bras got wet. Always a bad sign) we persevered up to Brooklyn Bridge. And omg am I glad we did. It's beautiful!
The mighty tower blocks of Brooklyn Heights and Lower Manhattan square up to each other menacingly from opposite shores and seemed to juxtapose entirely with the unstoppable force of nature from where we stood, in the middle of the bridge, hovering in no mans land over the East River, with the rain assaulting our shoes.

We'd started our day in Greenwich Village, on my insistence visiting the house that Carry lives in in Sex and The City, and stopping for mid-morning coffee in one of the many cute cafes which are awash with local charm and, err, locals. Most were in there, still mulling over morning emails and we felt both tres local and cool, but also super smug because we  had a whole day off to explore New York and, yes, they might actually live here so bully for them but they did have to work. HA.

We spent quite a bit of time exploring the gorgeous side streets and beautiful town houses. We saw one for sale and were all like, 'Ooh ohh we could buy it OMG LET'S BUY IT' before realising that we totally could not buy it. Sadness.

We then caught the subway down to Ground Zero, although we couldn't actually go in because you need to buy tickets in advance. There's loads of building work going on there at the moment because they're finishing off the new tower block that will stand where the twin towers stood. It's awful and amazing to see it stand there. It has been shocking to see the way in which 9/11 effected New York City and the lives of everyone who lives there; I had never fully grasped it before. We also stood and gazed at the humble beauty of St Paul's Chapel of Trinity Church which, despite it's proximity to the World Trade Centre, only suffered the loss of one tree on 9/11

We walked from there to Brooklyn Bridge, which lifted our slightly dampened spirits. We kept up a constant rendition of Empire State of Mind, rap and all, with particular relish of the high warbling of 'Brooklyn briiiiiiiiiiiidge' which totes deff 100% did Alysha proud, and I'm sure everyone else enjoyed listening to as much as we enjoyed performing it. Ahem.

That was just the first part of our day. You will be sooooo jel of what we did after that. Hint: it involved chocolate.
Find out what other exciting adventures we got up to in the next instalment folks, try to contain your excitement.

True New Yorker

Yes. I know I keep saying it. But I really am turning into a true New Yorker these days.
I went for a run in Central Park yesterday. Is there anything that could make me more of a true New Yorker?
No, I didn't think so.

It was amazing, running through the green park with the well known skyline of New York before you. I ran past things I had previously only seen in films. It was magical. And I felt like Jennifer Anniston. Always good I feel.

Not a bad view...

Very Funny.

Yesterday was a really good day. I was kept thoroughly busy at Harper's, and spent a while going through huge leather bound books that looked like they belonged on Harry Potter's back to school reading list full of archived Harper's Bazaar editions. They went all the way back  to the 1800s, with beautifully illustrated floor length gowns, right up to The Fab 5 of the 1990s. I loved pouring over the old ads and covers, all such great inspiration for some of the vintage clothes shopping we're hoping to hunt out!

As I was leaving Lisa told me that she has the day off today, so I do too! That means a whole extra day to explore NYC woohoo. The only problem is my outfit schedule will suffer... which outfit will be got rid of?? Ohh the stress.

Anyway, saving that difficult decision for later, I hurried home to tell my other half (who has become increasingly like my actual other half; she texted me to inform me that she was at the shop and was there anything I wanted? Marital Bliss right there) and she too has the day off which was obviously all very exciting and we celebrated by deciding what peanut butter confectionary to buy. SERIOUSLY, they are obsessed. Literally, obsessed. You can buy anything, ANYTHING, with peanut butter in it. Peanut butter pretzels. Peanut butter snickers. Peanut butter M&Ms. Peanut butter frozen yoghurt. You name it, you can get it. And then oh lord, the actual peanut butter! 'Blizzard Peanut Butter', being peanut butter with white chocolate. I know!! Insanity. Anyway, mild digression there, we were obviously thrilled by this extra day to see more of NYC together and promptly started making plans. We also decided to go to the Comedy Club just off Times Square for which we had been persuaded to buy tickets. So, last night, we ventured into the, sometimes awkward, land of stand up comedy.
It was in this slightly dingy room, but we'd been assured that all the cool kids hung out in places like this, if not, indeed this actuwwwal room, so we felt at home.
We were actually quite surprised by how good it was. Some of it got a bit repetitive (I could chant along with the couple in front of me every time they were asked how long they've been married. 24 years, anniversary just gawn. Why did every comedien feel this piece of information was necessary to their routine?? Maybe it's our British sense of humour getting in the way) and nearly all centred somewhat on being fat (they were all very fat I guess). But it was really very funny (a phrase on an ad that we have heard constantly. I hate to say 'private joke' but Rain would totally understand).

We then wandered back through Times Square, getting several funny looks as we posed for photos on the other side of the street from each other, and my Kanye West tops drew several comments (it is a great top, what can I say).

Our final call of the evening being Tasti D.Lite frozen yoghurt. I spent hours dithering over which flavour to have. Dither dither. My choice? You guessed it. Peanut butter. It was delicious.

Thunderstorm in NYC

Everything New York City does is crazy.
From the garishly beautiful bright lights of Times Square to the young man with sunglasses and a jaunty hat who serenaded me with his guitar whilst I ate my lunch today, through to the size of all their portions to the clash of cultures in peaceful harmony in East Village and the flow of aggressive creativity in Brooklyn, everything that goes on in NYC edges towards the extreme and mildly insane.

I am constantly surprised by the craziness of the city, and the way in which it is like no where else I have ever been. Everyone says it, but it is so true; New York can't really be described and the first time you visit is certainly special.

So of course, when it rains in NYC it clearly doesn't just rain.
Today the oppressive heat was (partly) broken by the biggest thunderstorm I have ever seen. From the 25th floor of Hearst Tower I watched it rage over the city, with strikes of lightning scarring the skyline with graphic intensity. It was terrifying, but also one of the most amazing things I've seen in New York so far.
It wasn't just the strength of the storm that made it incredible, although that really was extraordinary, but also how long it went on for. It started about an hour after I returned from lunch, and was still raging by the time I walked home. I love how extreme weather makes people come together, even in New York, where they're used to extremes. I looked after the bags of a highly groomed woman in the shelter of Hearst Tower whilst she ran to see if her car had arrived, and laughed with a young black man who caught my eye as we both cursed our wet feet after wading through an ankle deep puddle of warm water in order to cross the road, and chatted happily with a German girl who was querying her choice of white top which had turned entirely see through in the wet.
As ever, it felt just like a film.

The rain made me feel slightly at home, but, as ever, New York did it better; the sudden extravagance and magnitude of the storm's rage can hardly compare to the moderate dampness of London drizzle...

It's fun to stay at the YMCA

It totally is. I went for a swim last night, and am hoping to get time to squeeze one in tonight before we head off to a comedy club near Times Square.

There's a big pool, where the properly serious swimmers power up and down in highly aerodynamic get up, and where I pootled up and down in the slow lane with an ancient old man for company. There's also a smaller, much warmer pool where I floated on my back and admired the decadent 1930s tiling which covers the walls and is reminiscent of a by gone era, so that I could imagine I was living in New York in a different time (in a demure all in one striped bathing costume, obviously).

AND THEN, after I got out and was heading off for a shower, I discovered the sauna and steam room. I know!

I was, as you can imagine, practically beside myself with happiness and popped in right away and settled myself down for a good 15 minute session in the sauna. I was in full relax mode; trancing into the middle distance with only happy day dreams about New York Italians in my head (yet to find but a girl can dream). It was then that I realised I was staring at the 'YMCA: We're good for you' poster and that as a result that one (in)famous line from The Village People song was chasing it's tail round and round in my head.

'It's fun to stay at the Y-M-C-A. It's fun to stay at the Y-M-C-A'

Hmm that it may be, but chanting that to yourself all evening is less fun.

By the time we were lying in our (very comfy) bunk beds watching The Big Bang Theory on our (pretty decrapid) TV that one lyric was still rawly invading the privacy of ,y own mind and when I went to the bathroom to clean my teeth the blasted Village People came with me.

I can only hope that the irritatingly catchy and totally pointless song (actions and all) is now firmly stuck in your head too as some kind of sick schadenfreude.

All together now: 'I said young man...'

Roman Holiday in New York

Last night we went to Bryant Park for their weekly open air cinema and, appropriately, I felt,  this week they were showing Roman Holiday. I think that might actually be a sign.

It was magical; there was something so special about watching the beautiful Audrey Hepburn in the equally stunning surroundings. The tower blocks rise up out of the ground like beautiful monsters, whilst the trees act like shields for the hundreds of people lounging in the calm sanctity of the park.
The film didn't start until the sun went down so we picnicked, watching the lights of the buildings gradually turn on whilst the natural light sank and the city at night slowly come to life.

It was magical. Truly, I was spellbound.

'Cute Jump'

I'm such a New Yorker these days.
When I leave work I 'grab' an iced coffee from Pick a Bagel and then I meander through Central Park back to my hostel, whist for breakfast I get a fruit salad or a croissant from one of the tiny stalls on Collumbus Circle. Then, in my lunch hour, I go to Balducci's, where they make the best salads of your choice (who knew dried cranberries would ever be nice in a salad?! Only in New York) and I sit on a high wooden stall in the window and watch the world hurry by and read a book.

I also love how everyone says good morning to each other! At first I was all suspicious and didn't reply other than a mumbled greeting to be read as 'stay away you perv I totally have pepper spray in my bag' but now that I've realised that it's just what's done I'm practically singing my good morning responses. This should seriously be taken up in London. Although maybe it's only successful in the sunshine. Gee that Biblical rain must really be getting y'all down...

Today I wore my Topshop jumpsuit with a pattern that looks like spaceships and Lisa said 'Cute Jump' and I was just thrilled.
It was crazy this morning with the final bits of the September Issue (capitals definitely required) being done so this afternoon I think everyone was on a bit of a comedown; I was sent out to get 5 dozen doughnuts so I think everyone was definitely in celebration mode
There's a very fabulous gay guy who waltzes about the place and who everyone clearly adores and is maybe a litttttle bit useless but kept on for his pure entertainment value, as a sort of pet.

The weather is almost as crazy as the whole September Issue debacle; it's really really reallyyyy hot but also really windy, which should be a relief but the wind is also really hot so it just feels like there is a giant breathing really heavily on the whole of New York.
Very strange.

Off for a swim... I'm itching to go for a run in Central Park to really cement my New Yorker status, but that might have to wait for tomorrow.

First Day

omgomgomg it was amazing!!

I did arrive absurdly early and nervously picked at my fruit salad and iced coffee (sorry, cawwwffee) for a bit before finally plucking up the courage to scurry through the imposing Hurst Tower revolving doors and ornate collumns.
I successfuly made it through security, who issued me with a visitor badge, and then went up the 25 floors to Harper's Bazaare.
I quickly found Lisa who is literally beyond lovely and very cool. She had glitter in her hair and all down the back of her neck, and when someone pointed this out she was all just like, yeahhh I was at a party and they strated pumping out glitter and it is a bitch to get off. And I just stood quitely, in awe of her coolness.
Then she gave me a tour and it's just like I imagined it would be!! We went through a room full of shoes, and rails of clothes in colour coded order, and girls laying out outfits on the floor, and there are mood boards leaning against the glass walls so that it looks like they're part of the New York skyline, and pictures of Kate Moss from the latest issue on the desks, and the actual editor in chief Glenda Bailey having an indepth conversation about which Dior jacket to use. I just drifted through it with this absurdly big smile on my face.

I have more to say, but I need to get to work! It's just a five minute walk from our new hostel but I need to get my morning cawwffee...
Until next time
xx

Groomed and Nervous.

I'm groomed to an inch of my life.

I've set an alarm for far earlier than is necessary; my roomies are all going to loveee me tomorrow morning. Ahh well the joys of hosteling. (It is quite joyous actually. We've just been given hand made cake from a very jolly Australian who exclaimed 'bullshit' when I told her why I'm in New York and then promptly asked what I'm going to wear tomorrow. I keep saying I've been lucky with my roomies, but I can't have got such good luck to last me for the whole of my Europe gallivant and New York; I've come to the conclusion that most people are just nice).

I will definitely arrive unfashionably early and will be hanging around drinking coffee for a good half hour. Finally the supersize Starbucks on every street corner have their uses...

I've read and reread the latest edition of American Harper's (although this did only highlight how little I know) and have picked a favourite look for A/W (ooh yes look at me using the lingo) should they ask.

Only my desecrated cuticles give me away...

I am actually very excited, but am looking forward to tomorrow being completed and in the past, rather than unknown and in the future.

New York

New York is fabulous! Driving from the airport was so amazing, it was like the opening of every Jennifer Anniston film ever. In fact, everything is like being on the set of a film. Sitting in the late afternoon sun in Central Park yesterday I kept expecting Serena van der Woodsen strolling through.
And when we drove over Brooklyn Bridge the city just hit us, just how the credits always make it look.
We went to Times Square last night and it's insane. It's such an assault on the senses I couldn't really take it all in... The smells and the lights and the noise and all the millions of people and the traffic and... Not even being born and raised a London girl can compare you for this.

At the moment we're staying in this really cool part of town in Upper West side - lots of boys in caps, card games outside apartment blocks and old people Spanish dancing in the street (all in the stifling night heat).

We've semi worked out the subway (which is way more complex than it looks!) but the whole street/avenue system is amazing; you can literally never get lost! I'm about to go and do a trial of my subway ride to Hurst Tower for tomorrow (eek!!) and then we'll do an open top bus tour (spiritual home, obvs).

I'm so excited to get out and going, so for now, that's all folks!

'Have a nice day'

Packing completed. Case open.

All packed. Only issue being I can't actually shut my case. This will have to be dealt with by my dad because there is nothing that is not entirely necessary and can be taken out.

Body beautiful is also complete. Well, as good as it's going to get at any rate (yessss that was a Princess Diaries quote. She is my idol, with her geek chic cool. Also appropriate as seeing as how Anne was also the intern in The Devil Wears Prada. Woop deffs an inspiration.) Manicure and pedicure being used as a reason why I'm incapable of doing anything: I've turned into a 'my nails my nails' girl. Don't hate. Facepack has been applied. My newly cut fringe is looking sharp. I'm totes ready to go; new york but ready for me!!

I feel a bit like a champagne bottle; all fizzy and excitable and full of possibilities. 

The unknown is terrifying. But the unknown is also thrilling... Roll on saying yes to life!

Packing Commences

Packing for New York has commenced. Keeping it simple by basically just taking everything I own.

I always get terrible Packing Stress, even when I'm only going away for a night. The terror of rejecting an item of clothing which I later discover is vital to the trip and, indeed, my very happiness, is strong. Some may even say excessively so.
But I've never been to New York before, let alone for a two week intern at Harper's Bazaar; what do I take?!
This is beyond stressful.

Quick Crepe Stop in Paris

We passed through Paris for half an hour before we caught the overnight train to Barcelona. Once we had successfully made it by Metro across the city from Gare du Nord to Gare d'Austerlitz, we felt we had enough time to safely stop for a crepe. And we totes deserved it. Travelling is a tiring business y'all, you gotta keep your strength up!
And omg it was amazing. Even better than the ones you get from the stalls on Portobello Road and that, my friends, is saying something.
We sat outside a tiny cafe on the bustling commercial street and were served by an amiably intimidating woman with the air of the French matron about her who refused to speak English. Successfully ordering 'sucree' with my crepe as a long buried memory of GCSE French triumphantly resurfaced was a proud, proud moment. If you only have half an hour to spend in Paris, this is the way to spend it.

Practical things are always ugly

One thing that this whole gallivant round southern Europe has taught me is that practical things are always ugly. Always. Without fail. I'm a girl primarily attracted to pretty things that are therefore predominantly useless. (Or maybe things which are predominantly useless can therefore be pretty. I'm not sure which comes first. Answers on a postcard please, although don't stress overly because it's a dilemma very similar to the endlessly debatable egg/chicken thing and seeing as how that still hasn't been solved satisfactorily - biologists please don't start - I'm not expecting too many ground breaking solutions). Anywayyy; this love of pretty and non practical things meant that rather rapidly I grew to hate my rucksack. Even when I had only just purchased it (and only just christened it Berny) and it (he??) was proudly sitting in the corner of my room new and empty apart from the possibilities it held, I hated it. It was so practical and so, so ugly. Packing it, as it stubbornly refused to expand or do up, made me hate it even more and by the time we'd walked the three minute journey to the tube station from which we progressed to St Pancreas, I despised it with the same intensity that I imagine Jen despises Angelina.
And yet, here I am, said rucksack on back, looking really quite happy.

I know. I was astonished.
I think the happiness might be due to the fact that I am about to board a train which will take me to Rome, where I shall be able to discard the rucksack from my life for four whole days, not to mention properly unpack, rather than live out of the detested thing, which I had been doing until Rome, spending vast amounts of time rooting unsuccessfully through its dark entrails.
It might also have been due to the fact that I am fully aware of the camera, and no one likes a miserable photo.
And it might also have been due to the very large iced coffee I had just consumed and which had the power to make me endlessly happy.
It could well be due to the amazing time I was having, and all the fabulous things I had done, all the new things I had experienced and all the lovely people I had met. Amazing how a bit of travel can give you a whole new perspective on things!
But it may also have been due to the fact that Berny was actually really quite great. Useful. Practical. Two words that usually make me shudder. But he was reassuring in his sturdy reliability. A comforting presence who I felt enjoyed seeing the small fraction of the world we were exploring as much as I did.
So he wasn't overly pretty. But neither really is Louis Theroux and I fancy him because of his other top class qualities.
So maybe practicality is sometimes a good thing (SOMETIMES I said. Don't be taking my words out of context now. This does not mean I will be replacing my 5inch gold stilettos with crocs any time soon). I certainly developed a love/hate relationship with Berny which, although strained, erred towards the loving end of the scale.
Lesson learnt: embrace practicality. As I said, amazing how a bit of travel can give you a whole new perspective on things. Although next time I might still decorate my rucksack with glitter, embroidery, broaches and bells  before departure. Old habits die hard, I am still a girl primarily attracted to pretty things, Berny could certainly have done with some jazzing up and no one can object to a bit of extra prettiness about the place. Bring on the craft kits.

Crumbling Rome

I want to make a crumble because it feels like autumn. I'm listening to the weather forecast on Radio 4 in my kitchen and rain, wind and storms is all the apologetic sounding man can talk about. All very jolly and great British summer time I have to say. Rome was 36 degrees! I can't imagine being that hot, even though I was there less than 48 hours ago; can't imagine that the entirely clear blue skies, stifling heat and warm evenings all still exist. When I think that the rambling remains of ancient Rome, which are scattered like seeds throughout the city, the ornate fountains that linger in every square and on each street corner and the awful romance of the Coliseum all still exist without me I feel as if there has been some terrible mistake. But I also feel just a hint of the possibilities that the continued existence holds. If beautiful Rome can exist whilst I ponder whether to make an apple crumble or not in rainy Chiswick, then we can, to put it bluntly, escape.

About me

I dream of marrying an Italian, like drinking tea when it's raining, wearing cat eye sunglasses and baking cakes. I spend my spare time drinking cocktails, riding a brilliant blue bike, trying to enthuse an old dog to go for walks, sometimes attempting to write and wearing numerous fabulous coats. I want to travel the world.