Big on insomnia, bigger than apples and so good they named it twice, New York was quite simply ... amazing. The madhouse that is JFK actually proved to be no problems at all - a mad scramble for the shuttle bus was followed up with a fantastic view of the Manhattan skyline, silhouetted against an dusky orange, drizzle-filled sky. Good start, no? Things got better when, after a minor communications mix up (who would have thought Grand Central Station was actually that large?), I managed to track down the illustrious Dan - my gracious host and unofficial guide to all things New York-ish for the next week. A quick hop-skip on the subway and we were over in Brooklyn at "The Swanktuary", Mr Rhatigan's fantastic subterranean lair, shared with sparkling Texan Glenn and his faithful companion Bear (a nicer pooch you really could never hope to meet).
The next seven days were jam-packed with so many wonderful New York experiences, it's hard to know exactly where to begin. There was the trip to the top of the Empire State Building, through it's fantastic marbled art-deco interior and right the way up to the dizzying heights of the 86th floor. The view from the top is of course, simply stunning - the scrum of buildings downtown, bereft of their twin sisters ... Central Park ... New Jersey ... the boroughs across the river ... nothing short of amazing. The hustle and bustle of neon-filled Times Square was manic, just as you'd expect it to be, with the flagship Toys R' Us store taking kiddie consumerism hitherto unknown plateaus. A trip to the retro-styled amusement district of Coney Island was made even more special with the Coney Island Mermaid Parade being held that afternoon - a roasting hot day filled with sunshine, hotdogs, lemonade and scaly wonders of every conceivable shape and form. Catching a couple of solo comedy pieces at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre was also a lot of fun, followed by the famed doughy nightcapping delights of Krispy Kreme.
And what visit to New York is complete without the requisite minor celebrity encounter? Hanging with Dan and Dan'l and John Cameron Mitchell (aka Miss Hedwig), watching old Bowie clips at the Museum of Television and Radio was, admittedly though, an unexpected treat. Mixing it up with the muscled and maryed at the Fulsom Street Fair was ... well, say no more (I still can't believe that it's held in an area called the Meatpacking District (fnar, fnar)), and imbibing with Dan and friends from west to east across Greenwich Village became an interesting exercise in contrasting food, beverage and patron styles. But wait, there's more - a jaunt on the ferry across to Staten Island replete with marvellous views of the Statue of Liberty, strolling across the Brooklyn Bridge in the muggy afternoon heat ... it's the city that just won't quit, I tell you!
But what made New York my favourite spot on the whole damn trip were the people - Dan, Glenn, Dan'l, Jennifer, John, Simon, Stephen, the lovely animated Mark, the harnessed BJ and a whole raft of other genuinely friendly and interesting folk gave this little Antipodean the friendliest welcome he'd had in a long long time. And that my friends, was indeed one of life's Good Things.
‹ 28.8.02
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London
In an even briefer stop than Paris, I managed to cram in the following over the course of two nights and a day: drinks with Meg, Paul, Tom, Scally, Iain and Aussie Paul; a visit to The 2 Brewers with the latter three; an overnight stop with the second of that three; closing a bank account and buying assorted sundries for the American leg of the trip; dinner with the third, fourth and fifth of the first six plus The Dogs and their girlfriends; a final stop in at The Retro Bar for quiz night, minus The Dogs and their ladies but meeting David, Jonathan, Ian, Michael and Simon there; a final overnight kip at Tom's swanky new bachelor pad; and finally, a dash to the halls of Heathrow for the flight to Noo Yoik Sidee. Phew. So, toodle pip to London for forseeable future ... I'll be back kids, when you least expect it, and will miss you all like you don't know what.
‹ 14.8.02
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Paris
It's always nice to return to a city and already have your legs, so to speak. It was like that in Barcelona, and Paris was no different (what happened last time). This time around I only had a couple of days to spare, before zipping back to London, but these were taken at a fairly leisurely pace. After a nightmare of a hike around Montmartre when we arrived (looking for accomodation with heavy packs on and it being muggier than a monsoon's armpit), most of my evening was spent filling in wide-eyed newbies about the relative joy that was the Busabout experience. Afterwards, we took off to perhaps the most bizarre cafe in Paris - interpretative jazz, no aircon and a crazy old bum who knew how to abuse us in our native tongue. Enchanté. The Saturday was spent farewelling Jacqui (as she departed for northern locales), then investigating the Centre Pompidou (which I'd missed last time) and their amazing La Révolution Surréaliste exhibition ... colour me a major Magritte fan now. Sunday was spent traipsing around L'Ile de la Cité and the big gay Marais, getting rather inebriated with the ever effervescent Fi and chum. A quick lunch in Les Tuileries the next day proved a lovely, languid way to farewell the continent ... last stop in Europe, London.
‹ 14.8.02
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Tours
Enough with the wine ... bring on the hot chateau action! After being thoroughly wined out down south, Jacqui and I jumped on the bus and headed for Tours; gateway to the Loire Valley - home to assorted nobility from times gone by and, inevitably, much over-consumption and corseted shenanigans across the board. Highlights included, of course, our visits to a couple of the chateaux themselves. First stop was Amboise - a quick hop on the train and pretty much a whole world away from the hustle and bustle of Tours. Approaching from across the river gave a great perspective on the fanastic stone buildings and while we forewent the chateau proper, we did manage to check out Leonardo da Vinci's last abode ... a fairly modest affair, but lovingly restored and with a huge collection of scale models of his inventions in the basement. Fascinating stuff. After a public transport nightmare, we swallowed our pride and taxied across the French countryside to Chenonceau for the real castle deal. Built on arches spanning the river, it pretty much felt like walking straight into Dangerous Liaisons: all orange trees and turrets and renaissance gardens and sumptuousness of the highest order. After a visit there it was fairly easy to see why many a French peasant got so pissed off with their designated lords and masters! Lifestyles of the rich and vacant indeed.
‹ 13.8.02
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