Saying Goodbye.

On Rain's last day in New York we decided that we had to do something amazing and unforgettable to say goodbye to the city we'd so rapidly fallen in love with. 
So we decided to hire bikes. There is no better way to say goodbye to a city than to cycle through it. 
We started in Central Park (which was quite a scary experience because there's this really aggressive but utterly complex one way traffic system IN THE PARK and all the roller bladers and runners get really quite angry if you accidentally find yourself on the wrong side of the road) and then we cut all the way from the park across Broadway along West 97th Street to the Hudson River.

Here I am, at the Hudson River. On my bike. In New York. Wearing striped high waisted shorts. Life is jolly. 

We then cycled all the way along the river, stopping off for iced coffee in the shadow of The Freedom Tower - still in the midst of triumphantly rising from the gap left in the New York skyline - in the Financial District, where lots of stressed looking men and women in suits (who were undoubtedly v jel of of our fun filled day involving bikes with baskets and sunglasses) were scurrying like ants.

Across Brooklyn Bridge we went, which was even better not in the rain. The sky scrapers take on a majestic quality from the removed position in the middle of the East River, the sheer scale of it audacious. Despite it being our second viewing, we were once again awed into an embarassing tourist silence.

Crossing into Brooklyn was cool. Like, seriously, COOL. I think it's amazing the way each part of New York has it's own unique and highly identifiable character and atmosphere - you really can live a thousand lives in one day.  Brooklyn is more chilled than Manhattan; the edgier, more stoned, more laid back, dressed-in-second-hand-thrift-store-clothes kid sister to the uber chic, frantically fashionable, desperately busy Manhattan.

We drifted past games of basket balls and lounging kids on steps towards Dumbo, the area between Brooklyn and Williamsburg Bridge which is renound for being, well, cool. We cycled down Jay Street, past a group of guys with long hair jamming with guitars in their red van.  Achingly cool patroners, mainly wearing John Lennon sunglasses, sat on missmatching funiture drinking coffee outside bars that, I just know, turn into hotbeds of excitement and music and debauchery and love when darkness falls and the city lights twinkle twice across the river.

We sat in the newly renovated water side park and admired Manhattan from a distance; I especially liked the way we could see both bridges - it lended a circularity to the city, which I enjoyed - and so it was decided that our day of adventure would not be complete without cycling over Williamsburg Bridge too. Besides, during the dog walks of my childhood Daddy would always insist on a circular route though Richmond Park, and has imbedded in me a desire to never retread my footsteps. 
So we got back on the bikes and headed off, all very Olympic spirited I felt. Flying the flag for Team GB, us. 

We paused at Williamsburg Bridge-end to consult the map and immediately Chris adopted us. We hadn't planned our new route; we were lost and he was cycling the same way, so he led us all the way back to the bike hire shop, along the river and through the safest roads. He told us that 'when I go you go, when I stop you stop' and we'd be totally safe and wouldn't get run over.

Which we were, and we didn't. 
He was so great.

Chris was an American Greek who moved to New York when he was eight and who's father had 50 cents in his pocket when he arrived. His grown up daughter had just gone on holiday for the first time to the tiny island that he had left in search of a better life and he was clearly in need of a daughter (or two) to look after. He grew up in Greenwich Village, next door to Robert de Niro and remembered when the city was all three storey appartment buildings and hated the new high rise skyscrapers that dominate the city and 'block out the sun'. He had worked in the Dakota building and saw John Lennon's blood and was 'never a fan of that Yoko Ono one'. He had been in the army and thought that the New York Military Hospital symbolised all that was great about America. 
He was, I'm positive, my favourite person that I met in New York. Big claims. 

Rain's last night was spent in Cafe Wha? (Our fave. We loved having a fave. Especially such a cool, underground fave). We had THE BEST time. 

We sat right at the front and the amazingly cool lead singer winked at us before he began swaggering about the tiny stage. He wore nail varnish and told the audience to never take any bullshit and to always be happy with who you are. I cheered. 

There was a woman getting married the next day and we all celebrated 'real love' and I fell even further in love with the idea of falling in love in New York. There was a birthday party too and so we all sang happy birthday and everyone was a bit mad. The band sang at us to 'get up, stand up' and told us to 'fucking dance! Because if beautiful English girls weren't going to dance, who were??'. We obliged, and joined the crowded dance floor for Twist and Shout, and did the twist, and shouted. I love New York.

 

Then the Latin American music started and everyone went even more mad and there was this beautiful women with waist length blonde hair who pulled me and Rain towards her and made us dance the salsa with her. I can't do that (I can just about bop in time to a beat) and looked like a hippo washing in mud next to her, but we had fun and she was lovely and gorgeous and I told her boyfriend so. She kissed me three times on the cheek. I love New York.  

 

We took the subway and danced home, and soaked up the magic of New York so that it would always live in our bones.

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. 

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. 

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.

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...