New Yorking Part 4 - Dumb Faces, Jelly Lumps and Breakfast Saviours

Broke in Brooklyn

I'd been in New York for 9 days and had not yet made it off Manhattan.  I gather this is a terrible thing to do and quite touristy.  So I decided to go and visit Dumbo, which is quite possibly the stupidest (best) name for an area of a city ever.  The only thing of note that I did there was find a lovely hipsterish cafe.

hard working types

There was a guy next to me who was having lots of 'very important' business calls via his bluetooth headset.  Every five minutes, without fail, he'd stand up, pace around in front of me, assaulting my ears with lots of waffle about how he needs to get this guy for that thing or whatever simply was not good enough!  I don't think it ever occurred to him that he was disturbing everyone else around him.  Twat.

Also, they seem to be very poor in Dumbo.  They don't have real cups or even plates.

"you're lucky you have a napkin!"

The cake was pretty good though, a little light on the lemon, but you can't have everything in life can you?

I also realised that they're very anti-dog here.  Everywhere is restricted, most cafes and restaurants don't allow dogs.  Only in very designated areas.  If you're lucky.  And you're dog isn't too annoying or big.  And the person enforcing the law takes a liking to you.

both are equally abhorrent

I'm going to presume that this sign is only for dogs with furniture, if your dog is not carrying it's own chaise lounge around with it, you're fine.

I Fucking Love Buildings

On my way back from Dumbo, I took myself on a little walk over the Brooklyn Bridge.  Which was great, even if full of about 60000 tourists.

straight lines and less windows make for a better building

But it wasn't too bad really.  Mostly a pleasant walk, apart from the occasional cyclist who was just SO ANNOYED that people were walking in the cycle path!  I mean, anyone would think it wasn't a major tourist fair that is more for sight seeing, full of people that don't know what a cycle lane is, than obeying strict traffic laws.  Streets yes, major tourist sites, shut up complaining and be patient.

I did manage to get a few nice pictures, but realised that most had other people's dumb faces in them.  This made me realise that my dumb face is probably in thousands of other peoples photos.  What a depressing/fun thought.  I may have to look extra dumb when people are taking pictures around me.

bet this guy is super happy he's in this picture

It was worth it though.  The bridge has some of my favourite views of the city.

happiness is sunshine just hitting some buildings

how happy was I that the sky was so dramatic

Three White Jelly Lumps please

Mostly the gluten free food here has been pretty great here.  A couple of turd missteps, but mostly I've been pretty happy and found it pretty easy to find a place that can accommodate me.  So, when I heard that an old Chinese place had lots of gluten free options, and that it was supposed to be really good, I was stoked.  Plus when I got there, it looks all run down and cool (in a lovely dirty way).

maybe don't leave the trash outside your front door though?

I sat down, perused the menu and picked out 4 or 5 dishes that I wanted to try.  So much choice!  Excitement!  The first one to arrive was this.

what's that weird ugly deep sea fish that looks like this, with the big nose?

Yes, you are correct, they do look like folded sad jelly fish!  They also had the consistency of snot on the outside, with a grey beef interior that had the texture of 3 day old blancmange.  Needless to say I was disappointed.   But, they're were other dishes to come I thought!  It was at this point that the waiters manager came over to explain that although things were marked as gluten free on the menu, most of them were not actually gluten free (they fried them with other gluten-y things).  "but, that's really dumb and annoying!" I exclaimed, but he just shrugged a "well, I don't actually give a shit, so what can you do".  Twat.

So I ate my three lumps and had some rice along with slimy green leaf things.  All in all rather disappointing.

How to do an American Breakfast properly

After the slime fest the night before, and after being disappointed in multiple greasy spoon style cafes.  I made one more valiant attempt to find a place that would serve me a nice fried, mostly beige coloured, breakfast.  Thankfully Blooms Diner did not disappoint.

if I ate this every day, I'd be dead

Just look at it!  Way too much food for one human, check.  Bacon and fried potatoes, check.  Toast because more carbs, check.  Coleslaw, hmm, sure, check.  Pickles, hmm, ok, I'm not sure they'll go, but great, I'll eat em, check.  The coffee was  a bit on the wank side though.

Final New York Thoughts

I'm going to miss this place.  This was by far my longest ever trip here and by the end of it I was just starting to settle in.  Especially as I've tried to treat this trip as if I'm 'living' in New York rather than being just a tourist.  Although saying that, I'm not sure I could actually live here, definitely short term and maybe not in Manhattan, long term I think it would drive me a little crazy in the way London would.  But, still, I've had a pretty fun time.  I'll be keeping something from the trip though, carrying around 1kg to 5kg of New York back with me, distributed around my body in fat wobbly bits.

It does say something that the place I was most comfortable in, was the place that had an air of Berlin to it.

almost Berlin-y, just needs more dirt

this was, surprisingly, a very thin tall bar

dirt

New Yorking Part 3 - Lakes, Snow and Emotional Numbness

Lakes, Trees and Squirrels on an Orange Day

I may take the piss out of the Americans rather frequently, what with their silly big flags, love of more ice than water in their glasses and their use of the word 'deplane' (I told one of them that we should derestaurant the other day. They thought it was ridiculous and didn't quite get the point).  But fuck me can America do Autumn.

I think the trees have that same can-do attitude as the people

This was on a day of wandering around Central Park in the bright 2C weather.  Which was rather lovely and pleasant indeed.  But, I found myself wandering down a path, head looking up, ooo-ing at all the orange tress when I suddenly found a lake.  Not a huge lake, but significant enough to actually be a lake.  I had no idea there was a lake in Central Park.  Oops.

they can also really do skylines like a pro

 But it's also full of bobbling plastic bottles, so, yeah, that's wank.

full may be an overstatement, but, yeah

I asked this squirrel if he knew why people (dickheads) would throw their empty bottles into the lake, but he didn't know.  He just enquired if I had any spare nuts, preferably cashew (or at a stretch a pecan).

"I'm holding my hands like this so you believe I'm sophisticated"

I had a lot of fun traipsing around the park and the upper east side though, it's definitely a thing to be done in the Autumn.  The only odd thing was that almost everybody walking on the streets looked out of place, almost in a state of panic, walking dogs that were not their own as if their lives depended on it.

all of these dogs are suffering an identity crisis

I did eat a French square quiche though, so it's not all bad.

Memorials

It took me some time, but I finally plucked up the fortitude to make it to the 9/11 memorial.  Which ended up being far rougher than I thought it would be.  Not quite the five days of complete emotional numbness I suffered after visiting Auschwitz, but up there.  There was just something about walking around the pools, reading all the names, that filled me with an overwhelming feeling of grief.  It turned me into an emotional puddle and took me quite a long time to actually get all the way around both.  Knowing that so many of the people had to make a decision between burning alive and jumping out the window almost broke me in two.  The police officer walking in front of me touching names as he passed, presumably his friends who died, didn't help.

It also didn't help that people were posing for smiling selfies, v signs and all, next to the pools.  I may have muttered the odd "twatface" under my breath whilst passing them.

ps. don't disrespect the dead, you twat

But, on a brighter side, the new station there has a great "fuck you terrorists, we'll build a giant cathedral to capitalism" vibe to it and is rather nice to look at.

just a little hint of comb

Plus the new tower they built is rather sleek and tower-y.

I wonder if there's much room up there at the spiky top

Fake Belgian Wood and Clean Swedes

After the previous days chippy debacle (and with a need to push my emotions down with food) I went on a hunt for fried potatoes.  Ideally with crunch this time.  After much research I found a honest Belgian fries place.  Yes, it's not as good as a good as a chippy chip (there is such a thing as too much crunch), but I was in an existential British crisis and needed help, even Belgish help.  What I ended up in was rather faux.

it takes a lot of work to make wood look this old and shitty

I mean, it's not a terrible job, if you didn't look out of the window or too closely at anything you could believe you're in a wee cottage.  Apart from the giant air conditioner/heater on the wall that is.  But at least they tried to incorporate it into the 1530's cottage style.

authentic

Then I immediately went to a Swedish candy store.  This was such a violent change in decor that my eyeballs sizzled a little.

white is clean

But, I stuffed enough sugar in my face that I survived.

Snow

If you know me well, you'll know that I am quite the fan of all weathers.  Give me a year with four cleanly defined seasons in it and I'm a happy camper.  I'll love a bit of lakes and sunshine in the summer then love getting to put on all my hats and scarves in the winter.  Snow, especially the first snow of the year, is one of my favourites.  So when it started peppering down the other day, I went straight out into it with a look of childish glee on my oldman craggy face.

delicate little flakes of joy falling from the sky, with a light dusting sticking on the ground

It was wonderful, I even did the whole 'stick your tongue out and tilt your head back' thing to taste the snow/smog combination.  Unfortunately though, this was a New York snow storm and pleasure is not to be had.  So it went from a gentle "ahh, how nice is this!" to a "fuck you, here's a 100mph ice wind in your face bitch" in around ten minutes.  Then it proceeded to not stop for 6 hours, resulting in mass snow banks, slush pavements and many 'fuck your feet' pools (deep pools of ice water, covered in a thin veneer of snow, so you think it's solid, then it's not, by which point you're up to your ankle).

Luckily, I'd brought my mesh topped, very air-y, super light, running van shoes with me.  So I had no problems trying to walk in the snow at all and my feet were bone dry by the end of the day.  (at least, this is the lie I told myself to maintain sanity)

so much slip

By the next morning, it had pretty much all disappeared.  What was the point in that crap then eh?  Stupid weather.

New Yorking Part 2 - Fluff, Women and the Death of Nostalgia

So far (ignoring my back) this has been a pretty great trip.  It's my fourth time here in, as the locals call it, The Big Apple and as a result I don't really feel the need to do so much tourist stuff.  Or to fill my days with never-ending walks between sights.  I mean, I also did more than the usual amount of stuffing food and coffee into my face on previous trips too, but this time it just feels a little less rushed.

So I'm generally waking up in the morning, slowly taking a shower whilst yawning a lot then casually wandering down to the local corner bakery.  This is mostly a cupcake bakery and has therefore adopted a hardcore pink style.

breakfast is better with neon

No Men Allowed

I'm spending the rest of the time here visiting as many gluten free establishments as I can find.  The only puzzling thing I'm noticing with all of these is that their clientele is definitely hard leaning to the feminine side of the species.  It's just pretty rare to see a man in somewhere that is 100% gluten free.  Which is quite a puzzle as medical conditions with gluten don't favour a particular gender.  So, is gluten free still considered 'healthy' by people? (spoiler, it's not)  and women are just generally better at being healthy than men?  Or are we still dealing with macho masculinity and it's love of being strong?  "I don't need to eat gluten free, I snort gluten for breakfast, because I'm a big tough manly man".

women only please

Rogue Fluff

It was about halfway through my third day here when I noticed my jacket had picked up a little pink fuzz.  This turned out to be from a cheapo street scarf I purchased for $5 (100% cashmere!) on my first day.  The job of this scarf was to stop me freezing to death when encountering the 400 mile per hour -15C winds that blow down the avenues here.  In this part it thankfully succeeded.  In the job of not dissolving whilst I wore it, it has not succeeded.  I guess I'll get my $5 worth though.

I'm 87% convinced that this fluff is not toxic

No More Nostalgia

I decided to take a little trip up onto the highline park as I guess I should do a little sight seeing, but at the entrance I saw this sign and almost, just almost didn't go on.

well fuck you then

I mean, I get it, it would probably be bad form for dribbles of dog urine to permeate through the high line onto the meat packing New Yorkers below.  But, come on, they're dogs!

I did come across one of my favourite views in New York again though and snapped quite possibly the same photo I did last time I was here.  Not that I care, I still love it.

why is this so lovely

Saw the Empire State building from the park too, so I can check that off the list for this visit.

just the tip

In general though, I found the park to be underwhelming.  Maybe due to the weather being a bit shit, or that I've been there a couple of times before, or maybe I'm finally becoming that curmudgeonly old man I'm destined to be.

After the park it was time to feed the little British monster inside me.  I've been pushing him down with Germanness for the past 6 years and he was starting to get a little irate (there are only so many paprika flavoured crisps he can take).  So I took him to an almost British chippy with an appropriately inappropriate name.

it's funny because it's domestic violence

Inside it's very chippy, everything looks fairly similar to what you'd find all over the UK (note the clear see through area to view shit food that they'll reheat for you, plus the band of silver lava below that will sear your skin off within 1.2 seconds if you touch it)

ignore the nice ceiling and you could easily be in Kettering

I went for the favourite of chips n mushy peas, which was, well, a bit spank. 

am I a victim of nostalgia?

I'm not exactly sure why.  Have I killed my little British monster?  Can I no longer appreciate Britishness?  I don't think so as pickled onion monster munch and a terrys chocolate orange are still akin to crack for me.  So is this just a shit chippy?  Possibly, we are in The Americas after all.  Or maybe chips just don't do it for me anymore.  In which case I'll do a little cry and they'll be round to collect my passport as soon as I'm back.

New Yorking Part 1 - Remembering what a blog is and American flags

I have recently found myself to be in New York, a surprise as I have not left the confines of Berlin for some time.  The fact that I'm here, in itself, is great (especially if you're found of the sound of car horns).  The downside to this is manually going through every person in my contact list and telling them what I've been doing.  Tedious.  I had a thought, there must be an easier way to do this!  A central place where I can describe the amazing cool things I've been doing, with too many attached photos and a little sarcastic wit, then send it to everyone at once.  Ah, yes, there is such a thing, a blog.

Honestly, I had almost forgotten that I even have a blog.  One, they are rather 2003, especially a blogger blog, and two, I'd not touched this one in four years, allowing it to seep from my memory.

But, enough waffling about a blog being a blog.

Journeying to New York

Also known as the worst part of any trip.  As I am currently suffering from a bad back I'd decided to upgrade myself to the 'Economy Premium' section of the aircraft (using airmiles that have been sat in my 'executive' club account for years and years).  Now, you're probably thinking "wow, an upgrade! how fancy!" and true, they did give us a glass of sparkling wine upon boarding and they gave us actual metal cutlery (rich people who can afford upgrades are allowed to take over a flight by murdering with a fork).  In general it was pretty much the same as any flight, just with an inch or so more leg room.  But, I was happy enough, munching away on my rather bland looking special meal.

food must be individual and unadorned for the gluten-less

After consuming said meal I needed a stretch of the legs, so I decided to go for a wander around the plane.  I pushed my way through the velvet curtains of privilege back into the cattle section and suddenly felt like I'd entered an episode of the twilight zone.  There were about 15 heads visible amongst the rows, a few ghostly lights from seat screens and a single 6 year old child wandering around scavenging for blankets.  As I trepidatiously progressed down the isle I started to notice that there were toes poking out from the rows (un-socked) and that entire rows of seats were only taken up by a single individual.  Almost all the passengers back there had converted the central four seats into beds and were having a lovely time of the flight.  I did a little loop of the area, slightly in shock at how spacious it was, then arrived back at the 'premium' section, which was packed to the gills, full of farting noisy grumpy people.  Upgrade indeed.

Accommodations

Thankfully, after my first ever Uber ride with Rudy, I arrived at my AirBnB.  It is rather nice, nice in that "it's still a New York apartment that hasn't been renovated since 1934 so has some real worked in grime that can never be removed" charming way.  The corridor on the way up to the apartment did give me some concern though.

a little 'sombre drug den' vibes perhaps?

Plus the shower seems to have a very teeny tiny bath tub in it.  Perhaps made for bathing multiple tiny dogs or a singular larger dog (or for capturing shower dribblings, but that's less amusing to think about).

two terriers or one border collie 

American Flags

After managing to get a fairly decent night of sleep (minus being woken every 14 seconds by a car horn) I ventured out with a mind to get some coffee, eggs and hash browns (my favourite of the american breakfasts).

I ended up in this place and, by virtue of their being a giant fucking american flag on the ceiling, I thought I was in the right place.

it is a little excessive right?

My first concern was that the menu only mentioned something called 'Home Fries'.  Hmm, I have no idea what the fuck a home fry is, but it sounded quaint enough and the person behind the counter assured me that they were the same as hash browns.  I was dubious though, as he seemed to be a moron, but I ordered anyway.  At that point one of his colleagues, in a difficult to achieve combination of being 'non-interested in the middle of doing something else' and vaguely aggressive shouted "home fries are not gluten free" in a hushed tone.  Presumably he'd had to deal with said moron many times before.  So, my home fries were swapped out for salad.  Salad I tell you.  How disgustingly un-American.

can I have a side of bland with my bland please

What arrived was alright I guess, not the greasy heaven I had anticipated, but I'll live.

Also, their home fries are not hash browns, some other plates in my vicinity had little cubes of fried potatoes on them.  Idiots.

New Yorking

The rest of the day was spent bumbling around New York, drinking the odd coffee, eating the odd cheese melt and stuffing the odd cupcake into my face.  I'll do my best to avoid slapping food pictures all over here, so here's some of the randomness I encountered.

slinky oyster man

I also managed to stumble across the most Berlin looking alley in New York.

it smelled less of pee than you would think

and, of course, fell in love with the building views

sliver

The day ended with my first Chinese meal in over five years (thank you general tso) and a glass of what I believed to be cider, in that it was cider that arrived as it was cider that I had ordered, but it more resembled a rosé.

Americans don't really get what a cider is

Paris Day 8 - Weak Coffee and British Food

There is something to be said for a nice long holiday.  Breaking out of your regular routine.  Forgetting about all the stresses and problems of your every day life.  Having a good excuse to eat a large dessert with every meal "well, I am on holiday!".  Actually having time to acclimatise to a new city before you go back.  All good things for the psyche.

It is with this mindset that I write this, my final blog post on Paris.  Eight days doesn't really sound much like a long holiday in the grand scheme of things.  It's barely more than a week.  But it does seem to be long enough for my brain to switch into "well, I guess this is our life now, better get used to all this shit" mode.  Something to do with things being familiar so it can stop processing more visual data than it has to I thinks.  Meaning my brain is all nice and relaxed.

I do, of course, have some further views on the Parisian life though.  One is this.

In my first few days I'd see rivers of water running down the side of the street and I'd thought "oh, there must be some water work or construction nearby" and ignore it.  But, after the 20th or 30th time I begun to wonder where it was coming from.  So off I scurried.

Nope, it's just pissing out of the ground like mental.  I guess if you are a Parisian, this must be all normal.  To the rest of us, it's a little odd.  The drainage system in this city must be a big ol' bag o wank.

One day, I became a little bored.  I'd ran out of food to stuff into my face.  So I went back to the cafe from Amelie and actually managed to get a table this time.  Then I found this little gem on the menu.

Who orders Weak Coffee?  It just sounds terrible.  To you non-native English speakers.  It'd liken it to ordering a Bland Sandwich.  Why would you?  Plus, that's some damn expensive coffee.

My return wasn't all expensive shitty coffee and disappointment at renovations though.  I found the market that is next door to Amelies apartment.

Some git had decided to park his shitty silver car infront of it.  But, you get the idea.  There was a distinct lack of grumpy crazy French greengrocers though.

On another day, I went on a quest for more food and just look at what I found.

Marks & Sparks.  Happiness.  I bought much good food.  Plus lots and lots of GOOD English cheese.  I may have also received a little pleasure in the fact that the only cheese I have bought in France is English made.  I think this would infuriate a lot of Parisian people.

All in all though.  It has been a good trip.  I've managed to avoid most of the tourists, haven't worked or really thought about work and have pretended that I'm living in Paris for a short period.  Job done.

Look, sunshine and practically no tourists (other than the one taking the picture annoying all the other people behind me).