We arrived in Penn Station and hopped on the subway, primed and ready for my American Dream to come true, based entirely on ‘the Movies’, TV and books ive read… Quite a lot to live up to, id say. As I walked up the stairs from the subway, climbing towards my first impressions of Manhattan, I was hit by the sounds and sights of Times Square: people hustling past, taxis honking their horns (a nervous habit I think, by the way), buildings stretching up towards the sky, and layer upon layer of flashing lights and tv screens, assaulting the senses. (Piccadilly Circus has the power of a desk lamp bulb in comparison..) Vous ajoutez a ceci, les odeurs, le bruit… and you get a pretty overwhelming first impression of Manhattan. We made our way across town to drop our bags and settle in our lodgings for the night, which is a sort of hotel for the convenience of various clubs and alumni groups. Our stay in the suite was very generously provided by Mr. Bolter, member of Squadron A and therefore a club-member eligible to use the facilities. The thing is, the hotel happens to be run by none other than the Women’s Republican National Club (or something to that effect) which means that the entire building is adorned with pictures of all the ‘important’ ladies within the club and various other ‘ladies who lunch’. We accidentally stopped on the fourth floor on the way down and came face to face with a portrait of Reagan… Frightening stuff. Apart from the macabre right-wing undertones of the place, we had a lovely suite and it was such a treat to get to spend a night in the city and to be so central too. (just beside 5th Avenue and Rockefeller Centre.) We spent the day exploring the West Village and all the little boutiques and interesting shops there. It was Saturday so we had a lovely atmosphere with everyone on their weekend strolls. That evening we headed out for dinner, by which time it was 11 o clock - but don’t forget, it’s the city that never sleeps! After our Vietnamese food, we took a cab to the East Village (how cool did that sound?) in search of Mister Ming’s, a lounge-bar type thing that was recommended in one of the guide books as being a hip electro-music venue. After standing in the queue for about 5 minutes I noticed something odd. I could hear something that struck me as slightly strane. Yes.. there it was… Definitely! Bon Jovi’s, Living on a Prayer, rising from the depths of the club. I gasped in horror! I walked over and asked the leather-clad bouncer, was this not Mister Mings, cool electro bar? He looked at me, puzzled and answered in a thick New York accent, “You mean that Euro stuff???” … Emm, yes… I suppose…? “Nah, we don’t got that stuff here..!” …Sigh… “TAXI!” So onto the next place we went, passing away the wee hours of the night in KGB; a pseudo-intellectual haunt of NYU students discussing Kafka and the like over dodgy tasting Vodka that you’d get for 2 euros on the Continent, in Communist-memorabilia dressed surroundings. What I want to know is how the American public would react to someone opening a bar called “SS”, mais bon… passont. Sunday mornings in Manhattan, only one thing to do: go for eggs! So we did just that. We chose a nice place called Isabella’s with an outside terrace. The thing is that about 20 impatient looking New Yorkers also chose Isabella’s so we had to wait with the plebs outside to get our table. The scrambled eggs with Nova Scotia salmon and cream cheese, with home fries and English muffin made it all worth it. We then crossed the Park, but Fifth Avenue was closed because of some sort of Greek Parade. Why is it in cop-films when ever there's a chase, they always run into a parade and end up losing the fugitive in the crowd?? Anyway, I got to see the Parthenon on my trip to New York so I shouldn’t complain (even though it was made of Papier Mache and being dragged along by a pick-up truck). We walked down Madison Avenue, went into FAO Swartz and saw the cool giant floor piano thing that the people dance on in the film Big (we even arrived in time for the show!); went into Tiffany’s and Co and into Barney’s. We even walked down Park Avenue on our Bourj tour of the city. All in all we had a marvelous weekend. So much so that today I decided to go back for more. I left Marge and her weary feet and set off to explore the city on my tobler. I got the train from Long Island and the subway, comme une grande, and im quite proud of myself that I managed to figure the subway out myself cause its certainly different to what im used to - all numbers and straight lines! I started off at MoMa (the Museum of Modern Art) and walked through the galleries of beautiful paintings and sculptures. I saw some incredible surrealist paintings by Magritte and Dali that I never even knew where in the US. I even saw the gargantuan ‘reflections of clouds on the water’ (or something to that effect) by Monet which is truly beautiful. As for the Pollack section… bleeuughh… (C'est un Koundelich, definately springs to mind) After a morning filled with art, time for some of my art… Bloomingdales! I wandered through the cosmetic section and was inevitably solicited by every sexually-confused mascara wearing bronzed male makeup assistant, and smarmy high-lighted lip-linered sales lady; wanting to know if would like to be freshened up. Give the girl a complex! You actually need blinkers to walk into one of those department stores – one flash of eye contact and theyre all over you, descending onto their commission-providing prey like a cloud of vultures. After my ‘little brown bag’ experience, I hopped onto the 6 (like J-Lo, who’s ‘so real’ that she’s really from Brooklyn but just happens to live in LA) and wandered through the West Village. I decided to try my luck with Magnolia’s bakery (of Sex and the City fame) since last time the queue was wrapped around the block. Since it was Monday, I ‘got in’ and purchased a box of the most delightful, colourfully, hand frosted cup cakes ever created, including one for myself for the road. They don’t just look like they belong in the world of Barbie, they actually taste like a sweet summers day, sitting on a swing in a playground, birds humming and the smell of freshly cut grass in the air. Yes, in America they make an artificial flavour for that, I tell you! A perfect end to a perfect day of exploring the city, Steph style.
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