Yep, still on about the weather. I was walking home from my sweaty spin class (enough said about that) this evening and was amazed by the change in atmosphere here. All the cafes and restaurants that normally hide under awnings and behind double entrance doorways to keep the freezing drafts out have converged onto the pavements. The pavements are alive with chatter, clinking glasses and happy people sitting outside, eating in the warm air. What a lovely way to spend an evening, I felt quite envious. They are in sharp contrast to the cafes that don’t have outside space and the poor souls trapped by the 2nd Avenue subway works, which are almost empty save a few solitary diners who eat alone, reading newspapers and looking out the window. I walked home, buzzing from the exercise and no longer hiding from the weather: jacket open, my red face warming the evening air just a bit more. I could get used to this.
I’m so confused
What is happening with the weather? It is boiling today. I didn’t need to wear my fabulous J Crew hooded coat or one of my many scarves or hats. In fact, I wore a much missed Belstaff jacket and was too hot in that! What is going on? The playground is full of confused toddlers who career around in jumpers and unexpected freedom that comes from not having to wear a padded coat. Everyone is smiling and talking to each other. This is most odd. Obviously this is perfect weather for the Century 21 bargain sunglasses, so I am happy about that. I am less happy about the 6o-something man lying pretty much naked bar a pair of bright blue shorts on the deck of a building I can see from my kitchen window. I hope that’s not the start of a phase. Come back cold!
Squid-u-like
In the spirit of experimenting with as much weird foodstuff as possible here in New York, here is the latest:
Yes, that’s right, it’s dried squid. A posh version of scampie flavoured fries (a personal favourite, which I miss).
Reverse the packet and follow the instructions:
So, consider bringing Prepared Squid with you to share with your friends, an bring a second packet, in case it isn’t enough. Just to entice you further, have a look at the contents:
I had it with a gin and tonic earlier and yes, it did destroy my tastebuds and I didn’t have any more after the first bite.
Enjoy.
Art smart
The Affordable Art Fair opened in New York this weekend. Taking place in the downtown area of Gramercy (ish) the well heeled, cool and, err, well us, converged on the Metropolitan Pavilion on 19th Street. Going early was definitely the right move with the spaces empty of people and gallery owners keen to say hi and coo over J who was, bang on schedule, fast asleep. Funny that the first person I spoke to was British, a gallery owner from Cambridge, I couldn’t help saying the remarkably stupid greeting ‘oh, you’re British!’ Like she didn’t know, but she humoured me with a ‘yes and you are too’. I must stop doing that, I think it unnerves people. There were many London galleries represented, in fact, you’d hardly know you were actually in New York, there seemed to be so few New York galleries there. I think it’s pretty normal at these places to find a load of stuff you hate, a load of stuff you think ‘yeah, it’s ok’ and the odd gem. We found our gem; our art of New York, limited edition print, but ironically it will be shipped from Canada. And not so affordable. Expensive afternoon, that.
Are these the best sarnies ever?
More like art than food. Mini sandwiches in a city where everything is large, this is a relief.
Must be time for ice cream
It is officially Spring – well I think it is Spring and it is warmer now and I didn’t wear a hat today, so it must be. Must be time for ice cream. I have tempted the Spring fates by eating it in March, but hope I’ll be forgiven. NW3 had pretty good ice cream places, one in Hampstead was in the old butchers, but you’d never guess; Gelato Mio in St Johns Wood and Holland Park, to name two, was good, bit too creamy for me, but fine after a wander through the park. But here in NYC ice cream is an art. We have a really good place called Emack and Bolio nearby. It is small and funky inside with the wackiest named ice cream with Deep Purple Chip (black raspberry with white and dark chocolate chips) and Caramel Moose Prints (caramel with mini peanut butter cups) giving you enough calories to take up your entire daily allowance in one sugar cone. We ventured to Greenwich Village last week and found Cones. My, my that was good. They open until midnight! Impressive. They serve ice cream laced with Johnny Walker whiskey which led R to remark “Yeah, it’s ok, once it’s numbed your mouth”. Not sure that’s really a recommendation. And the search will go on.
Zoo review (guest blog)
(By E, age 7)
We went to the Bronx Zoo! Well not today. We went to the zoo on Friday 29 March. It was nearly just like the London Zoo but bigger. At the zoo we saw tigers, polar bears, birds, butterflies and a rodent home. We didn’t actually see any butterflies because they were closed. The tigers were cool. There was glass and you could seem them from really close up. There was also a poacher truck you can climb on! At the polar bears there was a high fence that you could see the polar bears from! There wasn’t even any glass! At the rodent house there were millions of rodents behind glass! There were mice, rats, chipmunks, squirrels, even skunks! Actually he was behind glass and didn’t spray you. Believe it or not there even was mice in a wheel! At the birds (we saw these first!) there was two sections. On the first one there were loads and loads and loads of birds behind glass! Toucans, macaws, parrots, pigeons, love birds, parakeets, blackbirds, ducks, you name it, it was there. On the second floor the same thing except there was more free rooms. Free rooms were rooms, glass free, and lots of plants, tree leaves and lakes where birds could fly freely.
It also had a ginormous shop where I couldn’t decide what toys to buy. At the end I had an anaconda and a mini zzebra but couldn’t decide on a meerkat and a blue macaw. I liked the meerkat because it was cute but liked the macaw because it was like Blue in Rio. At the end of a long discussion, I chose the macaw.
(Spelling corrections and a bit of a sense check courtesy of nyc-newbie. Excessive use of exclamation marks and obsession with glass retained.)
Soul destroying?
So today is my third visit to Soul Cycle. Soul Cycle is a spinning club. For those of you who think this is some kind of arts and crafts club, let me describe spinning: imagine a bike that doesn’t move, has a really uncomfortable saddle, only takes funny shoes with clips in and is controlled by a single dial to determine how hard or easy the cycling will be. It’s nothing new, and you’ll find spin studios in most gyms around the world. In New York (and elsewhere in the US) Soul Cycle sets itself out to be a bit different, a bit like a cult. A sweaty cult with a nice line in designer lycra and and obsession with yellow. I like the fact that you can just buy a class and turn up without much notice and no more commitment than that. I don’t like the cost – $37 including shoe hire, but once a week, it’s probably cheaper than a gym membership.
Everything about Soul Cycle is super cool – I am not. Everyone seems to know what they are doing – I don’t.
I can’t work out how to clip my shoes into the pedals and have to ask, even though I’ve been twice before, I am still clueless. I am anticipating the class to be full, very dark, apart from some candles and with an instructor who is embarrassingly fit and muscle-bound. And I’m right. I am glad it is dark so that I can’t see how ridiculous I look. I made the mistake on my first visit of sitting near the front to see what’s going on, but that’s really not a good idea because the front row is reserved for those who know what they are doing and like to shout a lot and not the uninitiated. I am expecting a lot of hyped up instructions from the muscle man and get them. I’m intimidated by the super fit girls at the front who appear to be like Bruce Forsyth’s ladies in Play Your Cards Right but without the oversized playing cards, but I follow them because the muscle man keeps walking about and confusing me. I’m also slightly perturbed by his red bandanna – is that even legal in 2013?
I think I’ve got the routine right: up down, back and forth only to find they have moved on and I am woefully behind. I am told to listen to the beat and follow it but I cannot find it. Where is this beat? My body doesn’t do beat. I recognise some of the songs, but realise I am ancient when Taylor Swift starts going on about boyfriend trouble – and the only reason I know it’s her is because I remember the song from the New Year’s Eve TV show and that she even exists is only thanks to my weekly subscription to Grazia which is obsessed by her and that bloke from One Direction.
I find my consolation in the bloke next to me who seems to be as useless as me. Even I can do the bit with the small dumb bells, trying not to clonk him in the process. I’m also thankful that the bloke in front of me doesn’t sit too far back as those bikes are so close together, I’m not willing to become that acquainted with his behind.
Anyway, I’ll do it again, I’ll try and hope it’s dark and hope that somehow the beat will find me. Alternatively I’ll just get really red faced and sweaty and not have to turn the heating on for the evening.
A fitting tribute
Roosevelt Island lies between the east side of Manhattan and Queens. It is a long strip of land only accessible from Manhattan by tramway, a bright red cable car that takes you from 59th Street and 2nd Avenue across the East River, alongside Ed Koch bridge and deposits you safely on to Roosevelt Island. We’ve been curious about Roosevelt Island since we arrived here as we can see it from our apartment and can just about see the cable cars making their way high up in the sky. So on a glorious sunny day, with blue skies and my new sunglasses (looking good) we ventured to the island.
The island was originally called Welfare Island but renamed in the 1960s as a tribute to FDR who was Governor of New York from 1929 until he was elected President in 1932. This is not your typical tourist destination and it’s unlikely you’ll find it in the top ten of things to do in New York, but it does now host the newly opened Franklin D. Roosevelt Four Freedoms Park. FDR died in 1945 but this memorial didn’t open until October 2012 after a decades long history of failure to develop the land and get the financing in place. However now it is open and it is glorious. It’s a beautiful simple grey stone development at the southern end of the island. When you reach the edge of the site you stare down the East River, with the Manhattan skyline on your right, the United Nations building standing proud and the Chrysler Building and Empire State Building peeking through the crowded parts of midtown Manhattan. It is a simple and fitting memorial to a great man and over time will become more well known and popular. It is free to visit and with a ride on the tramway there’s a real incentive to go there and get a different view of New York.
Going to the candidates debate
“Sitting on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon
Going to the candidates debate
Laugh about it, shout about it
When you’ve got to choose
Ev’ry way you look at it, you lose”
Humming this on my way to the 92Y to see the candidates for this year’s election for New York Mayor. No Simon and Garfunkel, no funny seventies hair or woolly jumpers, but a very white, middle class audience in the Upper East Side of Manhattan on a bitterly cold Thursday night. Sold out auditorium with rich wood panelling and Washington and Jefferson in large gold leaf lettering above the stage. Five Democrats, three Republicans, all men bar one. The formidable Democrat, Christine Quinn, current City Council Speaker oozes confidence, has a hard edge to her tough oratory and splits the audience with her Marmite appeal. The four Democrat guys all kind of merge into one with their opposition to Mayor Bloomberg, his money, his remoteness from the people and his lack of attention to education.
The Republicans are more colourful and interesting. I was interested to see George MacDonald, the guy who set up the DOE Fund, which I’ve written about before. He lives just down the street, it seems and bemoaned the development of the 2nd Avenue subway and the blasts that shake the buildings. He did seem a bit lost at times, not answering the questions but has a real passion for getting the poor and homeless into work and providing affordable housing. Not sure he’s the man for the job, doesn’t seem hard enough to take the knocks of City Hall. I was intrigued to see John Catsimatidis the owner of Gristedes, the 24 hour supermarket near me. He’s a big guy with a lot of money, the closet thing to Bloomberg in terms of wealth, but no one will be able to spell his name, I certainly struggled here. The other Republican is Joseph Lhota, who previously ran the MTA (NY transit) and came across as the most credible candidate with facts and figures at his fingertips but lacking any charisma.
I learnt that Mayor Bloomberg introduced a ‘bull pen’ into City Hall to emulate a trading floor with him sitting in open plan with all his deputies and aides. I also learnt that New York is a Democrat city but hasn’t elected a Democrat Mayor for 20 years. After tonight, I predict, based on very little and gazing into crystal ball, that Christine Quinn will get the Democrat nomination, Joseph Lhota will get the Republican nomination and through sheer force of character and ability to talk, Quinn will win. Let’s wait and see, there’s 8 months to go.
nw3 to nyc 