Are you getting tired of all these New York-related posts yet? I’m sorry if you are. I think this must be the last one…
It just struck me that this time last week, i.e. 07:00 Sydney Thursday i.e. 17:00 New York Wednesday, I was at JFK waiting to board the long flight home.
Is it possible to feel nostalgia for something only a week old?
I still have so much of Central Park to explore… (Amongst a gazillion other things.)
This shot was taken there in the early yet already humid morning. My running buddy said she thought that the fun fair converted to the ice rink in wintertime. Whatever. I thought it looked pretty sweet.
Oh, for a good night’s sleep!
Ironically, after I took this photo of my bed in New York, I proceeded to have The Worst Night’s Sleep Ever which resulted in a mere two hours of shut-eye, and the rest of the time, tossing and turning and stressing out about not being able to drop off after waking at 02:12. (And here’s something random: 02:12 is the time I was born, if my birth certificate is to be believed – which is the reason why I remembered the time.)
02:12 aside, I don’t quite know what my excuse is back in Sydney; fractured or bad sleep seems to be the norm these days. And by these days, I mean the last few years. The only time I sleep well is when I’m on holiday.
Just as well that I’m three weeks’ away from said holiday then, isn’t it? Because I’m feeling quite frayed at the edges as we speak.
Listening: Asleep by The Smiths
The rumour is true. I’m struggling with infidelity.
Having always been Sydney’s girl, I now find myself wanting to be with New York.
Why did I not feel this after last year’s trip, I wonder?
I keep telling myself that I was based mainly in the Upper West Side in swank Woody Allen-ville, hardly Real Life, you see? And yet… I want to be there still.
Listening/Loving: Holy Grail by Jay Z
I may be here, but my head is still in New York amongst its tall magnificent structures. I was that annoying person who halted every two minutes to capture yet another of Manhattan’s finest with my iPhone 5. I couldn’t get enough of them. Old, new, Art Deco, 70s, amazing,
ugly less so.
It’s a strange thing really, this fixation with bricks and mortar, glass and steel. The shapes they make against the sky, reaching, towering.
I wasn’t ready to return from New York, truth be told. I even tried to change my flight at about 4am on Wednesday morning. I was still out – dinner with colleagues extending to a couple of clubs in the Meatpacking District. But the travel agent couldn’t find a flight that suited so I decided to stick with the original plan.
Thankfully, it’s been blue skies since my return to Sydney and I’ve not had any jetlag at all so it’s back to the old routine…
I’m very fortunate to live in such a lovely city. Blue skies in mid-winter. Hurrah!
I visited The High Line with a colleague last Saturday. Friends had recommended it and I’d done a bit of obligatory pre-visit research but I really wasn’t sure what to expect. Retired/disused rail line above Manhattan? I couldn’t help thinking of Sydney’s own recently closed Monorail.
It wasn’t too busy on arrival, or so I thought! There were a few people resting on benches here and there, and to the uninitiated, it looked fairly nondescript. What’s the big deal? I wondered…
Wikipedia describes it as an ‘urban park’ and ‘aerial greenway’, and both terms are true. As I wandered along The High Line, I couldn’t help but be taken in by the profusion of flowers blooming amongst the lush greenery. It seemed strange because New York is all about bricks and mortar to me – except for Central Park, of course – so it was a lovely surprise, a break from the city right within it.
What I loved as well was being able to stroll through the buildings at an elevated level. So much of New York is neck-ache – I was constantly looking up everywhere I went. It made a nice change to be simply looking straight ahead to admire the view. The building above left is the IAC Building designed by Frank Gehry. (I guess I don’t need to mention my penchant for buildings – yet again; suffice to say, this was archi-porn as far as yours truly was concerned.) Apologies to the specimen in the back right. It was pretty cool, too, with its mosaic of windows but I only had eyes for the Gehry.
Street art seen from The High Line
, and cabs, cabs, more cabs, below.
It doesn’t look terribly busy from the pics above, but trust me it was. Not to mention it was a sweltering afternoon in the mid- to high-30C’s and although I was wearing white, my bottom half was in trousers and I was ready to wilt. If you look closely at the guy above, I think you can see his perspiration-soaked shirt sticking to him. Whew! It made a nice change from being in wintery Sydney, although I heard that the last few days have been unseasonally warm with temperatures being at least 6C above the winter average.
Sydney weather aside, there were also food and drink vendors at The High Line
, and although the food looked enticing, we only bought a couple of drinks from the Brooklyn Soda Works
stand which were deliciously refreshing and precisely what the doctor ordered!
We spent some time wandering The High Line
, then the Meatpacking District
and the Chelsea Market
afterward; this was after about three hours of traipsing around the Upper West Side and Midtown before
we even got to The High Line
. I’m not sure how many kilometres we covered that day, but the blistered feet were testament to the walking. I slept well that night (6 hours – good for a jetlagged body)!
Hello friends! I’m back. It was a short trip but a long journey… I’m very glad to be back in Sydney after 24 hours or so of travel.
New York was hot and sticky beneath a canopy of thick clouds. I must say the humidity took me by surprise. Thankfully, I was in air-conditioned surroundings most of the time.
The work thing went well. I got to do some sightseeing. (And shopping.)
I wish I could’ve stayed for longer.
Sydney feels very small now.
This is an old photo from June last year, somewhere in Manhattan, I think.
The point being: I’m about to head off for about a week or so, including travel time (!) from Sydney to NYC, which is a long way to go for such a brief time but that’s just what it is.
I hope to be posting to Instagram while I’m away… if you feel so inclined.
See you soon. Don’t go changin’!
My mind’s eye keeps returning to the scene at the Boom Boom Room, on top of The Standard Hotel in New York City’s Meatpacking District – now more than six weeks old. We’d arrived at 7 or 8pm and the place was heaving. Unfurling around the red lighting centrepiece: band in full swing; punters who weren’t eating, drinking or admiring the view were taking photos of themselves against the floor-to-ceiling windows through which the lights of the city glittered in its full 360-degree glory; pipecleaner-shaped waitresses in flimsy yet curiously unflattering dresses flitted.
A place like this is made for people-watching, and I was watching on person in particular. Sitting at the curved bar, seemingly oblivious to the band and the buzz around her was… – “Ohmigod, it’s Iris Apfel!” I shouted into my friend’s ear. “Who?” was the reply. “Iris, Iris Apfel!” I proceeded to try to explain just who Ms Apfel was.
There she was, just metres away from me – her distinctive round ‘Eyebobs‘ spectacles the giveaway. Iris also had on a hat and a veil and an amazing high-collared outfit which she rearranged around her neck from time to time, between sips of her cocktail. (At least I think it was a cocktail – in truth, I wasn’t paying any attention to what the lady was drinking. Nor can I provide details about necklaces or other accessories because I was too star-struck, but being Iris Apfel, I’m sure she was decked out in something suitably chunky, bold and bright.)
I know this is old [news], and it’s not even interesting; the fact that I’m still reminiscing about the fact that I didn’t go up to Iris Apfel and ask if I could have my photograph taken with her. Because I was too shy. Because I specialise in admiring from afar.
Now as I come to the end of my daily-five-minutes-of-thinking-about-Iris-Apfel, I’m reminded that it’s Sunday – a day away from the office – so there’s no need to go back to black. Hot pink or orange or animal print, perhaps. I wonder if anywhere in Sydney sells Eyebobs.
Post-script: It’s more about fashion and style. It really more like being confident about who you are, and just doing it. That’s my reason for loving Iris so much, I guess.
I had to take a trip to the US for work recently. It was, on the whole, fine, a success, even. But there were a couple of aspects of the trip that were less than satisfactory.
One was an argument with a colleague and close friend which saw us not speaking for about four days. We have since mended the proverbial fence but things feel different between us now.
The second was getting sexually harassed by one of the partners one night. He’d had too much too drink (Krug or Dom – I haven’t been able to stomach the idea of Champagne since!) and wouldn’t leave me alone. Octopus hands which I removed forcibly from my person many times. Finally, got rid of him… then the texts – “Another drink?”… “C’mon!”… “Call me!”… “Here’s my mobile number…” … “Here’s my hotel room number…” Now I have to pretend that it never happened, but it did and I hate that it did.
I’m not myself lately. It’s not just because it’s winter.