In which Layla and Roz return to New York, eat a large number of breakfasts, and attend the New Yorker Festival

by Layla

Almost a year since our wonderful New York honeymoon, Roz and I decided to return to the scene of romance and have another week-long holiday in NYC. Sadly this one hasn't involved lots of friends giving us money to do wonderful things and eat fabulous food, as they did for our wedding presents last year, but nevertheless, we are very excited.

We set off from London at 4:30pm which we hoped would be the best way to combat jetlag. A slight delay to the flight meant we arrived in NYC just in time for a late dinner. First we dumped our bags and unpacked with great speed at our new Horatio Street apartment, just on the border of Greenwich Village and the Meatpacking District. It's owned by a gay boy couple and the one who showed us round was very welcoming. Having unpacked at triple speed, we ventured out into the Friday evening buzz. For some reason we had identified a restaurant to visit that was quite a walk away and did not take reservations; predictably when we eventually arrived, it was packed with a huge queue outside, so we thought better of it and retreated to a place called Cowgirl. We had some tasty nachos and guacamole and enjoyed some people watching before we were surrounded on either side by people eating the most meat in the world and Roz started to feel a tad ill. We finished off our drinks outside, then stumbled home sleepily to bed.

Up far too bright and early the next day, we were bitter that our anti-jetlag plan had not worked as perfectly as we had hoped. I popped out to a cornershop, walking joyfully down the redbrick-lined New York street in the sunshine, and returned with coffee, juice, and a bagel and cream cheese which we munched with relish in bed.

Eventually it was an acceptable time to get up properly. Our flat is just a block from the start of the Highline Park, that elevated, narrow park made from old railway lines. We pottered along its length, with the river sparkling in the sun in the distance, and felt very, very happy to be back in New York. Our early morning bagel being merely a snack, our sights were set on a delicious brunch in Cookshop at the other end of the park. Sadly it was still closed, so we spent the next hour walking through the streets of Chelsea, popping into cool boutiquey shops, and eating a pre-prandial banana/caramel crepe at a lovely little boutique mini-mall. Roz asks me to stress that I had the lion's share of said crepe. I personally think that's a lie...

After our crepe we decided it really must be time for breakfast and retraced our steps to Cookshop, which was absolutely packed. In a New York mood we ordered Mimosas to our fancy scrambled eggs, carmelised onion and chicory combo and spent a delightful brunch eating and again people watching. New York is such a brilliant place for people watching. It's intriguing how such an apparently comparatively higher proportion of the population seems to be gay.

Brunch over, we walked past a pretty gated playpark where we played giant noughts-and-crosses until Roz was eventually victorious, before noting adults without children were not allowed in the park and retreating to the site of our next event, the SVA Theater. We had been delighted to discover our trip coincided with the famous New Yorker festival. Roz had identified that tickets sell out within 15 minutes of going on sale, so a few weeks ago I sat at my computer, fingers poised over the mouse, and successfully obtained tickets to two events (which pleasingly were both sold out within 5 minutes). Our first was at 1pm yesterday: James Surowiecki was speaking on 'Lucky, Good or Both? Talent and Context in a Random World'. Surowiecki is the person who wrote 'The Wisdom of Crowds' and he was even more fascinating than I had expected. After an accidental tiny jet-lagged snooze in the first 10 minutes, I was glued to his talk and tweeted vigorously. Afterwards, we bought 7 day metro passes and zipped north to Central Park, via the Columbus City shopping mall in a doomed attempt to purchase a handbag to replace my falling-apart-and-full-of-holes-and-doesn't-close monstrosity. Clutching my open, holey bag, we proceeded into the park, which was very busy and full of New Yorkers enjoying the sunny Saturday. We found the boating pond but the queues were disgusting, so we ended up sitting on a quiet bench looking out on the model boat pond which was far more serene. I proved once again that my soppiness levels are ridiculous (particularly when on holiday) by shedding a tear at the dedications on the bench...

After the park we took the subway down to Greenwich Village, our old subway stop of last year's trip, and went to the Cornelia Street Cafe for some old time's sake Sancerre. Tasty. Then we walked down Bleeker Street to our other New Yorker event, in association with our much-beloved Moth Storytelling event, at Le Poisson Rouge. Free wine and chocolate made me happy before the stories even began at this rather cool venue, and then the stories by New Yorker staff about their time at the magazine were really interesting.

Alas the event went on for so long that we missed our dinner reservation at the Fig and Olive. When we turned up, they said they'd find us a table, then abandoned us in a mobbed, loud music, trendy place where we stood jet-laggedly before fleeing in favour of a random Italian restaurant on the corner of our street. We couldn't seem to understand the menu, which may be how we ended up with a massive plate of beetroot. (Also a little risotto and a salad, but mainly it was beetroot.) We were much revived by the beetroot, but still sleepy, so after a rather pleasant meal, eaten at a little Hudson Street sidewalk table, we sloped off home to bed.