In which Roz and Layla ice skate, savour a final brunch, and wave farewell to NYC
11/18/2009
We awoke with great sorrow on our final New York day to a blue sky and a city full of smug people who knew they'd be out at some cool New York event that evening while Roz and I would be boarding a plane back to London... We packed our things, and Roz nipped out for our final Amy's Bakery indulgence (for consumption at the airport), after which we gulped down muffins given to us by the Gramercy Tavern the night before (free breakfast items from restaurants is an excellent concept!) before dumping our bags in our landlady's house and heading out for our last day of fun. Or indeed, half a day.
We caught the metro up to midtown and, after an internet cafe visit to check in online for our flight, banished all thoughts of departure from our thoughts and headed to the Bryant Park ice rink. We donned skates and stepped onto the ice. The sky was blue, we were surrounded by skyscrapers, the music played swing classics, and we skated around with joy in our hearts and longing to come back for another whirl next week... After a suitably glorious time, we reluctantly left the rink and caught another metro south, for the last supper. Which, in our case, was a really delicious jazz brunch. What a really excellent concept: London needs to embrace the joy of jazz brunches. We sipped our mimosas, savoured our bagel and cream cheese (Roz) and eggs with guacamole (me), listened to great jazz, and devoured the Sunday New York Times as though we had all the time in the world.
Alas we did not. The clock struck 3 and we headed back to our landlady's house, picked up our bags, and caught a taxi to JFK. We failed once more to get upgraded to first class, but settled into premium economy (rather nice) and announced, for the final time, that it was our honeymoon. Fortunately it resulted in champagne being produced for us: a fitting end to a really wonderful honeymoon, and what has been the best holiday either of us has ever had. Thanks to everyone who contributed to making it so fantastic. We are already dreaming of our return.
In which Roz and Layla view art, eat glorious food, and start saying goodbye to NYC
11/16/2009
by Layla
We woke up in horror that it was our penultimate NYC morning, and after an Amy’s Bakery treat (I can only thank goodness that a branch of this tempting bakery does not exist at the bottom of our road in London or we would be very large indeed!) we walked northwest to the Highline Park. This park opened only earlier this year and is a walkway for about 8 blocks, raised above the ground and made out of an old railway line. It goes past a range of different buildings and gives unique perspectives of the water and of Chelsea architecture. I particularly liked walking past an auction in progress…
When we hit 20th Street, it sadly ended so we climbed down and walked to East of Eighth. Unfortunately en route a random passer by whacked Roz’s hand with his guitar case (accidentally) and for a while we feared it was broken. However rather than face the US hospital system on our last full day, we decided it probably wasn’t and pressed on to East of Eighth where we ordered Mimosas and distracted her from the pain with really excellent brunch. We sat looking out on the bustle of 23rd Street, while eavesdropping on the neighbouring table, where three women, who looked stereotypically American, turned out to all be previously married lesbians. One of them had a daughter who was attending Cynthia Nixon’s daughter’s bat mitzvah that very day! We shamelessly eavesdropped on their whole conversation before polishing off our second Mimosas, eggs, bagels and suchlike, and heading out in the drizzle.
It was time for our much anticipated NYC monthly Lesbian and Gay Art Gallery Tour. Chelsea is home to 300 different galleries, where big name artists display their new brand work before it is bought by museums and collectors and distributed throughout the world. This tour had been heavily branded as ‘controversial’ with ‘frank homoerotic content’. These proclamations may have had something to do with the crowd of 54 lesbians and gay men who turned up… The tour was led by a rather camp art psychology professor who was clearly very proud of himself for finding such ‘controversial’ works. We started off in a gallery whose main exhibit was two goats, with human penises, tenderly kissing. The professor proclaimed this was one of the most provocative pieces he’d ever seen. When the gallery director revealed it had been bought by a Wisconsin public art collection, our professor loudly proclaimed ‘Wisconsin isn’t going to be able to deal with this.’ Roz and I wondered at our extreme open mindedness… He later realized he had maybe insulted Wisconsin and added that not only Wisconsin, but NYC, and indeed the whole world wouldn’t be able to deal with it. We wondered if maybe he should get out more… however several audience members did look suitably shocked as we moved to the next gallery, one of my favourites, a lovely installation of clothes being mended by brightly coloured threads, still attached in spools to the wall. The artist himself did the mending and encouraged the public to bring things to be mended, thus creating a connection and making it a meaningful interaction rather than just looking at art. The artist was there, a sweet Taiwanese gay boy, and he was absolutely lovely.
Next up was the controversial one: about eight videos of about eight naked male porn stars standing alone in a room masturbating. Projected onto the four walls of the gallery. The hype around this was amazing. ‘Never in my entire life of viewing art have I ever seen anything so explicit!’ announced the professor. People looked. People gasped. People proclaimed it porn (it clearly wasn’t). Someone announced she felt ‘traumatised’. Roz and I stood at the back and sniggered at our clear stoicism in failing to be traumatized by the art…
Onwards to a very impressive gallery show: David Hockney’s brand new works – huge, colourful landscapes rendered in an impressionist style. They were beautiful. Our professor was clearly disappointed in the lack of provocative penises. However it was back to penises for the next exhibit: an interesting depiction of male to female transsexuals with their penises depicted as plastic/unreal in various ways. What was MOST interesting though was people’s reactions to it. Which demonstrated that this group of arty gay and lesbian people had no tolerance or acceptance of transsexual people! This was very intriguing. In a similar group in London, voicing disapproval of trans people in this setting would be likely to result in you being lynched – it would be utterly unacceptable. Here the gay and lesbian art viewers screwed up their faces, proclaimed it ‘anti-porn’ and generally let it be known that they felt it horrible. The professor chimed in to reveal (to general shock and disgust) that some apparently straight men found these transsexual people sexually attractive. This really demonstrated what we had started to become aware of: that contrary to London/the UK’s gay scene encompassing gay, lesbian, bisexual, transvestite, transgendered people etc etc, the New York scene functioned in mutually suspicious silos, where the gays peered suspiciously at the lesbians, who peered suspiciously at the transgendered people, and felt no need to appear to accept them, much less stand up for them. Roz and I felt guilty for not saying something, but we couldn’t quite think what to say, we were so stunned… All we could think of is that we misjudged poor Taylor Mac. What we regarded as his clichéd message (we should all love and accept each other) was actually a very relevant one in NYC… and if there is such prejudice and transphobia in NYC, what on earth must it be like in less cosmopolitan parts of the US??
We went to a couple more interesting galleries depicting hip hop culture, and a famous lesbian artist’s work, before fleeing to a nearby pub for cocktails and contemplation of how you assume that tolerance is the same in all big cities, but that London is clearly far more progressive than we realized. Our resulting fondness for London was very necessary, as we were trying desperately to reconcile ourselves to our imminent departure…
We popped home to beautify ourselves and grabbed a cab to the Gramercy Tavern. Our final NYC meal and we had booked it a full month ago, due to the difficulties of getting reservations and this very popular, acclaimed and fancy restaurant. And it absolutely lived up to our expectations. The staff were delightful, and again very enthusiastic about it being our honeymoon. We ordered copious champagne. Champagne was the perfect accompaniment to the glorious food – a seven course tasting menu and each course was a delight. Not to mention the amuse bouche. Three of them each. And the extra free dessert that they delivered to us (with free, fabulous dessert wine), with ‘congratulations’ piped onto it, to celebrate our honeymoon. We proclaimed it our best meal in NYC, in face of still competition. And left feeling slightly larger and a good deal happier. We grabbed a cab to the Rockefeller Center where we watched the ice skaters and had a New York kiss under the Rockefeller Christmas tree before catching a cab back to the West Village for a final night’s sleep in our wonderful apartment. We both proclaimed that under no circumstances would we be getting on that plane tomorrow.
11/14/2009
By Roz
After a good night’s sleep I went to my final New York yoga class and while I was sorry to leave, I won’t miss the American loudness of people who practice yoga here… I met Layla afterwards and we went to the Blue Ribbon Bakery, just around the corner from our flat, to indulge in a fantastic early brunch. I just couldn’t resist having blueberry pancakes, whilst Layla succumbed to French toast with strawberries and bananas. Feeling suitably healthy after all that fruit, we caught the metro over to Brooklyn: Williamsburg, or as the locals call it, Billyburg.
We pottered down the main street (Bedford Avenue). The lovely secondhand bookshop also housed two lovely cats. Very different from our own (since they both had two eyes, a full amount of hair, weren’t scrawny and didn’t have a drooping ear). But we felt impelled to text our cat sitter to check on Nelson’s wellbeing. He is, apparently doing well. Relived, we continued to potter, visiting cool clothes shops (I purchased a shirt) and the like. It was then most definitely lunchtime, so we went into the Blackbird Café. Layla had a baked egg dish, whilst I looked on virtuously with an argula salad (which turned out to be simply a plate of argula). A couple of mimosas were also sustaining.
We then went bowling at The Gutter. The decor was shabby chic – with flea-market lamps, old-school furniture, and exposed brick work. And it was very cool. Sadly underpopulated when we first arrived, it all felt a little less mad after a few other work-avoiders turned up. It is best to pass over the scores but suffice to say I am very bitter. (Someone should have told Layla that it’s just not nice to beat your wife every time…) After our bowling needs were sated, we sat in the bar and then played a couple of games of table ice hockey. And resolutely assured ourselves that it just couldn’t be true that we’d be required to go home soon.
Travelling back to the flat in the subway, we decided that what we really needed was a lovely dinner to console ourselves. So we booked dinner at Bellavitae. But before we could justify consuming yet another meal, we had a contra dance at the Lesbian and Gay Center to go to. Contra dancing is a type of old American country dancing (not that dissimilar to Scottish country dancing). We weren’t sure what to expect. And indeed it turned out a most intriguing and curious event – a bit like a school dance in a gym hall. The room was large, and somewhat lacking in furniture. The occupants of the room were very varied indeed. Some weren’t dissimilar to us. Others were a breed I didn’t know existed: frumpy gay men (in skirts). Others had a hippy vibe about them. The dance was fun – and I particularly enjoyed seeing Layla whisked off by an older gentleman wearing very tight shorts and trainers (a particularly intriguing combination given that the weather has been damp and grey all day). But after an hour and a half we felt we’d had enough, and were smug that we’d had the forethought to book dinner.
And oh my, Bellavitae was lovely. We had a chestnut and gorgonzola starter to share, and then delicious pasta to follow. Layla was of the view that the pasta wasn’t as good as that in Al Di La (in Brooklyn) but I wasn’t so sure – I thought it might even have had the edge. The prosecco flowed and then it was time for desserts. Which, very sweetly, were brought to the table with a candle in – since we’d told the restaurant we were on our honeymoon. The occupants of the next table launched into a rendition of happy birthday, until we interrupted them with the truth – at which point they were even more enthusiastic. The enthusiasm of strangers is one of my favourite things about NYC.
We then headed over the road to the Independent Film Center to see a late showing of a film called Uncertainty starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt (from Third Rock to the Sun and (500) Days of Summer). Having sat down, we were bemused to hear an apology for the delay and a reference to the “people you’re waiting to see” being there shortly. It emerged that we were actually at the opening night of the film and we were very gleeful. The directors and Gordon-Levitt then turned up, made short speeches and the film began. It was quite good, but a little too scary for us – and a little too improbable.
11/13/2009
By Layla
After another good night's sleep, Roz was off to yoga again and when she returned home, we were very proud of ourselves for managing to eat cereal at home rather than have a massive pancake breakfast. Unfortunately our stomachs have grown to expect the latter... I'm afraid that en route to the metro, we had to have a tiny Amy's Bakery snack...
And then it was off to the Museum of Modern Art. This was our first bad weather day, with a drizzle of rain and a chill in the air, so we dashed out of the subway, bought tickets, grabbed our free audio guides (seems to be a pleasing feature of the major museums) and zipped up to the warmth of the fifth floor and an impressive display of impressionists whose work we have been familiar with since childhood. Indeed, I was very pleased to find the very first painting was a Cezanne that I had to copy in art class at school! We admired Van Goghs, Picassos, Miros, Gaugins, Matisses, Warhols, Monets, and suchlike, with much enjoyment, and saw some photography, before hunger struck again...
We went to the MoMA restaurant where we enjoyed a pear and butternut squash salad (me) and a chickpea salad (Roz), and both were delicious. The cheese cart was excellent. And I'm afraid I also had a really good cheesecake. Perhaps people ought to start taking bets, like at a village fete, of what our respective weights will be on our return to London!
Reluctantly leaving MoMA in the wind and rain, we contemplated how our next plan, ice skating and Top of the Rock observation deck, was probably a foolish one. Instead we had a quick walk up Fifth Avenue, going into Tiffany's (in a homage to Breakfast at Tiffany's), FAO Schwartz, and Saks Fifth Avenue, before jumping on the metro home for a rest and a warm up.
Warm and dry, with an Amy' Bakery paper bag of snacks in hand, we headed out again, this time to Henrietta Hudson, our local lesbian bar, again, where we settled down for a few drinks. And then onwards to Here, that very cool arts venue that you may remember we last saw on Sunday night, desperately trying to get into Taylor Mac's new five hour show.
This time we were smug. We had bought tickets online and marched straight up to the front of the queue. When the brightly-dressed woman banged her gong and announced the glories to come in the next five hours, we quivered in anticipation. Since Sunday, Time Out New York had given this production five stars and rave reviews aplenty adorned the walls. This was cutting edge New York performance art, we had loved Taylor Mac's previous show. And my goodness, we couldn't wait!
We entered the theatre for the first of five acts with every will in the world to love the show with a passion. And how we tried. We gave them every benefit of the doubt. We smiled as the story unfolded: a metaphor for gay marriage apparently (though as the show progressed, it seemed to be more a scorning of ANY marriage, with the ultimate message being that marriage is nostalgic, pointless conventionality, and you should marry 'everyone and everything' instead). The first act set the scene: a woman wanted to marry a lily but couldn't as he was not a man, though he loved her. He then took up a challenge to defeat the deity, who advocated nostalgia, and to instead bring back the here and now. The second act involved rhyming flowers. The third act was a dream ballet. The fourth act was a film. The fifth act was a 40 person performance. Parts of it were fun (like them completely reconfiguring the seating and set for every new act, and having mad entertainment in the intervals) but much as we tried and tried to love it as everyone else seemed to, I'm afraid it was pretentious, self indulgent, sanctimonious crap. I suspect a Time Out London theatre critic would have given it a very different review indeed. Did the rest of the audience love it because they truly thought it was an important, profound piece of theatre? Or did they love it because they knew it was cool, edgy, acclaimed, and thus because they knew they OUGHT to love it? Taylor Mac is such a lovely, charismatic, charming performer. But sadly we weren't quite charmed enough. We left the theatre five hours later (with one large and now empty Amy's Bakery bag) feeling somewhat let down, but very interested in New York's theatre scene, and its desperate need to spurn conventionality in favour of loving the cutting edge, regardless of its content or quality... and thus we were glad we had been able to go.
In which Roz and Layla look at doll's houses, drink milkshakes, view art and go to secret venues.
11/12/2009
By Roz.
A good night’s sleep was followed by an early-ish yoga class. I was dismayed to find that I was stiffer than I usually am – until I mentioned this to Layla, who pointed out that it is hardly surprising given the vast quantities of food and alcohol we’ve been consuming. After which I decided that it’s a fair enough cop, and I can concentrate on being bendy when I’m back in London.
We headed off to the Museum of the City of New York, having spent the subway ride pouring over the new issue of Time Out and pointing out all the things we’d like to do, were we here next week. There’s a fantastic exhibition at the museum called Legacy. Photographer Joel Meyerowitz spent 3 years photographing the wild bits of New York’s city parks. So there were fantastic pictures of the marshes in Brooklyn, the forests of Queens and Staten Island and of the Bronx River (which I am now desperate to kayak down) – as well as of Manhattan. It challenged the perception of New York as a city of buildings – and particularly skyscrapers – and was just lovely. We then wandered round the rest of the museum. Layla lusted over the doll’s houses and in particular the Stettheimer Doll’s House. Carrie Stettheimer was a member of New York’s high society in the first half of the 20th century, hosting salons for avant garde artists and so forth. And she persuaded these artists to contribute pictures and sculptures for the doll’s house. We also saw a film about the history of New York which was quite well done, and interesting.
Lunch was next on the agenda, and so we headed to the Lexington Candy Shop. It’s a 1920s diner that doesn’t seem to have been changed since then. We had pancakes and bagels and chips and lemonade and absolutely amazing strawberry milkshakes. And were very happy (albeit slightly shamefaced at our greed).
From there we headed to the Guggenheim to see the Kandinsky exhibition. Despite both of us having been to New York before (in Layla’s case several times) for some reason neither of us has ever made it to the Guggenheim before. Though we’d seen pictures of the inside, it didn’t quite prepare us for the fabulousness of the architecture of the museum. In some ways the effect was a little like that of the windows in the Chinese Garden – suddenly and excitingly a new view comes into sight. We loved it. We also loved the Kandiskys, although I must confess an enthusiasm for his early work – and his very last pieces (which were so jolly, despite being rendered in occupied Paris during the Second World War).
After the Guggenheim, we headed back in the direction of home, via Chocolate Haven where Layla had the glorious combination of hot chocolate and real chocolate. We then dashed home to change for our evening’s excitements.
First on the list of excitements of the evening was a Harper’s Magazine event at the Housing Works Café. The venue itself was fabulous – a really good secondhand bookshop with a bar and café, with all proceeds going to Housing Works, a HIV and homelessness charity. (They also host the Moth Storytelling sometimes.) There were readings by a number of authors (including Rivka Galchen, Ben Marcus and David Samuels) and they were supposed to be linked to the theme of Thanksgiving – but the link was sometimes somewhat tenuous. But it was all very jolly. There was a very large audience – and I looked benevolently at a very sweet gay boy couple who held hands throughout…
Our second excitement was dinner. We went to a secret (unmarked) restaurant called Sushi Uo which had been mentioned in this week’s Time Out. The restaurant was about half full when we turned up – but looked very cool (albeit that the furnishings were reminiscent of a brothel). The friendly waitress told us, however, that there were no spaces, but they’d be able to seat us a little later – in 15 to 20 minutes. We originally thought this a brush-off, but her enthusiam to send to the unmarked rock bar downstairs and come and find us when a table was available convinced us to wait. Just as we were starting to feel peckish (in the unmarked rock bar!), the waitress arrived and took us back to the restaurant. We’d called ahead to check that they could come up with something vegetarian for us, and so we went off menu (like proper Americans) and they did us proud. Edamame beans were followed by a creamy tofu salad, followed by the best avocado rolls I’ve ever had, sweet potato rolls and other delicious food. One of the best meals we’ve had, I think.
What better way to follow on from a secret restaurant than by going to a secret bar – the Back Room speakeasy! This really was more of a challenge to find, involving going down a little dark unmarked passageway, apparently leading to some dodgy tenement housing, and then up some stairs to a completely unmarked door. Our only clue was the distant sound of music emanating from behind the door. We pushed open the door with confidence, being eager for cocktails served in tea-cups. And our confidence proved to be justified, the black door opened on to a large room with velvet seating and louche curtains. It was fairly busy but we secured a seat, sipped numerous cocktails and eyed up the even more secret back room (which we’d read about and which is entered by pushing at a bookcase). Layla, who never likes to be told that she can’t get her own way, decided that the best bet would be to simply walk up, poke her nose in and apologise profusely if anyone objected. And indeed this method proved successful and Layla was smug. The hour was by then late, so shortly afterwards we caught a cab home and went to bed, very jolly indeed after another excellent day.
11/11/2009
By Layla
We woke up quite early and Roz headed off to yoga. Upon her return, we grabbed the computer and went out to, you guessed it, Grey Dog for breakfast. Roz just can't resist the granola and I'm afraid I can't resist the pancakes with maple syrup, yesterday having a new and delightful twist of fresh strawberries baked inside the batter. Mmmm. Roz wrote the previous day's blog while I read the guidebook and made a plan for the day.
After breakfast we dropped off the computer and headed south on the metro to the Staten Island Ferry. This completely free ferry takes one, unsurprisingly, to Staten Island, via the Statue of Liberty and great views of the Manhattan skyline. One twenty minute cruise later, we disembarked with some curiosity - Staten Island appears to be a rather obscure borough of New York City: what were we going to find there? We stepped out of the ferry terminal. Tumbleweed blew past the signs proclaiming we were 'downtown'. This felt less like NYC and more like Mankato, Minnesota, the small midwestern town where I lived for almost a year at age 16. I was fascinated by the change a short ferry ride could bring about... First we found a drink in the Cargo Cafe, one of the sole entries in the Staten Island section of the Time Out guide to NYC. Painted with pirates, it was a rather incongruous and offbeat addition to Bay Street: great! We tried to have lunch too, but they were staunchly carnivorous, so we grabbed slices of pizza from the newly opened Italian restaurant, Pier 46, next door before hunting down the bus stop for the S40 bus to take us to our real reason for crossing the water: Snug Harbor.
Snug Harbor is a cultural centre and botanical garden, and we had read much about their beautiful grounds, and in particular their very authentic and serene Chinese Scholars' Garden and their Secret Garden. The bus driver looked at us with some surprise when we double checked that the bus went to our destination... and when we disembarked 10 minutes later to an apparently deserted array of gardens and rather pretty stone buildings, it felt as though nobody had visited in a hundred years (though the many parked cars spoiled that effect a bit!). Like adventurers, we walked up the paths, following signs past old buildings and pretty ponds, until we came upon our goal: The Chinese Scholars' Garden and Secret Garden. Tickets had to be purchased from a small gift shop staffed extravagantly by two people (presumably one would go crazy if left to staff it alone). They delighted in telling us that the Secret Garden was closed. We were very huffy about this news, but fortunately the Chinese Scholars' Garden was so lovely as to make up for it. Tickets in hand, we set off down a winding path to a beautiful pagoda. A Chinese Scholar's Garden is a very specific thing, that has to meet lots of criteria. This one had it all. Little waterfalls, tiny bridges, koi carp, wonderful architecture, beautiful details, and a feeling of absolute serenity. We spent quite a while there revelling in its glory, before reluctantly heading back to Manhattan and a completely different world. It almost felt as though we had dreamed it as we stepped onto the busy number 1 metro and headed north once more.
We hopped out at the New York LGBT Center to get some information about their upcoming events, in particular their dance options. The woman initially told us that the only event they had was the 'Fur Ball' - we were welcome to go but it would otherwise be populated by large hairy gay men known as bears. This did not sound a good option. Fortunately we spotted that there was another, more appropriate dance, so we are looking forward to that later this week! There was also supposed to be a vote by New York senate that day on whether to legalise gay marriage. All very exciting and topical... but the vote was apparently delayed. Typical! We walked home from the LGBT Centre for a quick change, a tiny rest, and then we were off out again, grabbing rolls from Amy's Bakery to sustain us en route.
Our destination this time was New York University, at Washington Square. I had mentioned my dream of going to a public lecture at NYU while we were here, and Roz had identified a fantastic option: Professor David Oshinsky delivering a visiting professorship lecture about the Bellevue Hospital, New York's first public hospital, famed for its psychiatric wards, and now considered to have been one of the biggest influences on public health improvement in the USA. The little lecture hall was packed and Professor Oshinsky was excellent. A really brilliant event. We resolved to go to more lectures in London...
Despite out high hopes, I don't think we were quite prepared for how fantastic the next event would be. After the lecture, we walked through Soho to the Lower East Side, and more specifically, to the Nuyorican Poets Cafe, a fantastic performance arts venue where The Moth, a much acclaimed storytelling group, were having a storytelling slam (aka contest). We arrived at 6:30; the event started at 7:30... we wondered how to pass the hour and thought about popping into a bar for a pre-show drink. However we decided to locate the cafe first, and thank goodness we did. We rounded the corner and were met with an impressive and completely unanticipated sight: a massive queue snaked from the door of the Nuyorican Poets Cafe all the way around the block, crammed full of people dying to get into what was clearly considered an extremely cool event. Our walk to the back of the line from the venue's entrance took some time. Counting that there were over 170 people ahead of us and knowing the venue held only 120, we feared we were doomed. However, we kept standing in hope... The doors opened and the queue started to move. Just when the door came once again into our sight, it slammed. "Sold Out!" We were absolutely gutted. Our zeal to see The Moth's show had been fanned to burning point by the huge enthusiasm of all the other cool New Yorkers' zeal to see them. Plaintively we stared at the door, remaining in the line, which had only partially dissipated. And we were gloriously rewarded when the announcement came: "standing room only!" We bought our tickets and dashed into the venue, grinning wildly.
We immediately knew we were somewhere special. We bought beers and squeezed into a space on the floor and looked around at the throngs of cheery, friendly people all in a state of high anticipation. The venue is great: all exposed brickwork with interesting art on the walls and a sweet little stage. The event was simple: ten storytellers told a 5 minute true story on the theme of 'ambition' and three teams of judges in the audiences gave them marks. After ten, a winner was announced. The storytellers were of varying qualities, but we were extremely intrigued at the presumably American inability to give anyone a bad score. Nobody scored under 7.9 last night... most scored between 8.4 and 8.9. There was an occasional 9. Had this been London, the judges would have been giving scores of 4 or 5 to some of them! There was a particularly good story about the federal agent recruitment process, on appearing on a show with a famous comedian, of being on a reality TV show... The final storyteller won, and while she was great, I suspect beer may have contributed as the night rolled on. Roz and I almost wept at the lack of such a fantastic venue in London, and had visions of listening to their podcasts in weeks to come and pining desperately to be in the audience of one of these fantastic nights once more.
Coming out of the venue, we were ravenous, and initially headed to Perbacco, an Italian restaurant that has been recommended to us. However the service was brusque, the menu had barely any vegetarian options, and we were told that no, we couldn't have any of their dishes without meat, because they were all already made up. Bizarre. We crossed the road and had great pizza from a more customer-friendly restaurant, Tonda, before heading home to bed, exhausted, but having had another day so fantastic that the thought of going back to London makes us both want to weep...
11/10/2009
Blog by Roz
We woke up at a reasonable hour, following a good night’s sleep, and I leapt up and went to yoga. There’s something absolutely lovely about going to yoga in a city that’s not your own – it really gives me a sense of being a local. The teacher was very chatty afterwards and thus it was a very pleasant start to the day. I returned to the flat (having picked up a coffee from our lovely local bakery) to find that Layla had been slaving away trying to work out a plan to incorporate all of the other lovely things we want to do. Which was even more pleasant! A quick trip to the bank and we were all set on what must have been one of the loveliest days in November that NYC has ever had. And what better thing to do on a sunny day than go skating in Central Park!
We approached the rink with some trepidation that the rink was closed, since there were few on the rink – and all seemed to have a level of competence that we do not. However, to our joy it turned out that the rink was very much open – and it doesn’t attract the crowds that such a rink would do in London. We glided onto the rink* and went round many times, hand in hand, joyful at the perfect setting and perfect day. It was amazing skating on such a rink.
From there, we went to a place called the Bouchon Bakery for lunch. It’s run by the same person who runs one of the fanciest places in Manhattan and goodness me the sandwiches were delicious (we both went for a butternut squash, brie, apple combo). And then we felt obliged to share a dessert (a glorious crepe cake with a berry sorbet) to get the full experience.
Sated (for the time being) we headed up to the Natural History Museum to go to the planetarium which is, apparently, the best in the world. Things have certainly come on a little from when I was a child, when a planetarium involved looking at pretty stars and going “ooooh”. We also saw dinosaur skeletons, and I discovered Layla had a favourite type of dinosaur (triceratops) and she discovered that I know nothing about them at all.
We then found the day had run away with us, and so we got a subway down to Brooklyn for our long-anticipated meal at Al Di La. It was fun returning to Park Slope and walking with purpose (rather than checking the map a million times, which is what Layla has to do a lot of the rest of the time). The journey had been quicker than we’d anticipated, and so we found ourselves there only ten minutes after the restaurant had opened. But it was already (due to the fabulous food and the no-reservations policy) starting to fill up. However, we were fortunate enough to get one of the coveted window seats. Layla had insalata di farro (a warm farro salad with goat’s cheese, kale, hazelnuts and all sort of lovely things) whilst I had a special of the day salad, which was also good. We fought over who would get the butternut squash ravioli (Layla won) and so I indulged myself with red beets and ricotta ravioli, with melted butter and poppy seeds. We again (notice a theme?!) felt that we wouldn’t have had the full experience if we hadn’t had dessert, and so shared some very glorious home-made ice cream (caramel, buttermilk and pistachio).
We then hopped on the subway and made our way back to Manhattan for cocktails at Angel’s Share. It’s a cool cocktail bar, with a hidden entrance. And it’s also clearly the place to take someone for a very cool early date – we were surrounded by couples, all talking to each other in a slightly forced, but exceptionally bright and enthusiastic fashion. I’m afraid to admit it, but we felt very pleased that we’d never have to go on another date of this kind (we’ve both done so many!). We had fun eavesdropping, and working out which date we’d most like to be on – and both agreed that a sweets gay male couple by the window seemed the jolliest and most affectionate.
I very much hope you won’t judge us for what we did next. Or if you do, please don’t tell us. You see Angel’s Share is just across the road from Chickalicious, which serves dessert meals. So we had an amuse bouche, chocolate tart (with peppercorn ice cream), and petit fours for Layla – and the same for me, but with cheese instead of chocolate tart. But it was very jolly – and the chef wrote congratulations on our plate, having learnt we were on our honeymoon.
After which a tipsy Roz and a very happy Layla stumbled home…
*Note for the reader in search of truth: Layla glided, I stumbled awkwardly.
11/09/2009
by Layla
11/08/2009
By Roz
Our night of sleep was extremely welcome, following our Rocky Horror extravaganza the night before. Almost as welcome as the thought of breakfast / brunch and papers. We headed over to the Grey Dog (yes, again, but the food’s so good!) and I settled down with the Financial Times and New York Times, and sent Layla off to forage for food. I was particularly fascinated by an article about Britain’s first female diplomats. Layla and I swore we’d make sure that there would never need to be a weekly commute between Singapore and London (NYC and London maybe – I’m in love with the city). And Layla wept over this article, bless her sentimental heart.
We then headed off to a bike rental shop recommended by our helpful landlady (note, turns out that she was also one of the people who turned Rocky Horror into a cult – Layla was excited!), having planned a big jaunt. Only to find, less helpfully, that it had closed down. We hurried to another bike rental shop only to find that they were out of helmets. We took this as a sign to postpone our trip until a day when we could start at an earlier hour (before the run on bike helmets could have got going) and headed uptown to go to a Broadway matinee. TKTS provided us with two tickets to see Chicago, and we retired to a cocktail bar for mango mohitos until it was time to go in. We’ve both seen Chicago before (indeed I saw a brilliant production with Alison at Bronzefield Prison performed by staff and inmates) but we thought it would be fun to see a big Broadway production. And indeed it was. Though some of the casting decisions were surprising (Bonnie Langford seems too old for Roxie – but perhaps this is unfair) but the sound was amazing and it was particularly fun to see the orchestra on stage. Cute conductor too.
Afterwards, we rushed back to the flat to change (I have turned into a girl who has to wear make-up when going out in the evening!) before rushing round the corner to secure a good table in the basement at the Cornelia Street Café for their Liar show. We were delighted to find we seemed to be the only non-New Yorkers there. We then turned to consider our wine options (Cornelia Street having a particularly good wine list). The friendly barmaid who we’d chatted to a few nights ago welcomed us warmly and let us taste a number of the whites before we settled on a bottle of beautiful Sancerre. And then the show began! Four storytellers (all very established and polished performers) told a tale – 3 were speaking the truth, and one a lie. Having done so, the audience was encouraged to question the 4 performers, to try and ferret out any inconsistencies that would identify the person as a liar. And oh they were so good! The audience all took it very seriously – as of course, did Layla and I (being competitive and determined types). Sad to say I gave an in-depth explanation of why one of the performers was the liar to a fellow audience member only to find out that the audience member was the performer’s friend – and that I was wrong. Huh.
We’d had an appetiser (or two, ahem) during the performance, but had managed to hold off on the mains until after the show (to ensure we could properly concentrate on the food). Which is just as well, given that it was delicious – the best we’ve had in NYC, with the exception of the Union Square Café. Layla gloried in her goat’s cheese salad (which randomly she chose to accompany with a sweet potato mash) whilst my pizza and French lentil salad was perfect. After pumpkin gelato dessert, we rolled ourselves round the corner and home, happy having had yet another perfect day.
11/07/2009
Yesterday morning was a slow start. Roz went out to Amy's Bakery on the corner of our street and brought me chocolate pastries for breakfast and we clung to our cosy bed til after 11. Our lingering in bed was due to the knowledge that we weren't going to see it again for a very long time: tonight was Rocky Horror night - reliving Layla's youth at a midnight screening in Chelsea sounded like a good idea on paper, but when faced with staying awake til 2:30am, we weren't sure we could do it (staying up til 10 has thus far been a challenge)!
11/06/2009
By Roz
Following another lovely night in our flat and another early start, I headed off for an early-ish yoga class. Although Yoga to the People had much to recommend it, I’d found the self-expression of some of the other yogis (manifested by exhales that sounded as though the room were haunted) disconcerting, so I headed off to another centre and had a very serene and silent class.
Back at the flat, we decided to have a late (and large) breakfast at the Grey Dog. Such a cool place (for Scottish readers, a little like a Bean Scene). And Layla would like me to make clear that she definitely didn’t have three pancakes and lots of syrup, whilst I had granola, yoghurt and fruit. We read the papers and the new Time Out, and made a plan to walk over to the Lower East Side (going through Soho and Chinatown).
We arrived at the Tenement Museum in the Lower East Side for a tour, only to find the tour we’d planned to go on was sold out. Undaunted, we booked for a later one and decided that there could be no better use of the time than an early lunch. Whilst walking to an appropriate establishment, Layla expressed an enthusiasm for a fringe trim. Fortunately we were passing what must surely be a lesbian mecca: Crops for Girls. We burst in, demanded Layla’s fringe be appropriately chopped, the hairdresser translated ‘fringe’ into ‘bangs’, did the deed, and headed off in a whirl of enthusiasm. I then received news about the job I was interviewed for two months (!) ago. I didn’t get it. Huh. By the sounds of it, I was the second choice, but frankly that didn’t seem much consolation. I was so depressed I could barely bring myself to consume a bagel. However, commonsense prevailed following some cheery messages from friends, and the recollection that the job would have entailed working in Croydon (instead of Whitehall). I therefore polished off the bagel, and we returned for our tour of the Tenement Museum.
The tour was excellent – the “educator” told us about some families who’d lived in the tenement and we were both fascinated. We were also entertained by the educator’s disapproval of the gentrification of the area, which she felt was conclusively proven by the Starbucks on the corner of the street.
A film about Amelia Earhart is out in the US (with Hilary Swank, Richard Gere and Ewan MacGregor) and so we decided to go and see it. Since Layla and I got together following a play about her, it seemed appropriate – and we were glad to have gone, even if the film wasn’t the epitome of excellent film making. The popcorn was brilliant too!
We headed back to the flat to get ready for the evening. We had booked tickets for an event at the New York Public Library to celebrate 10 years of New York Review of Books Classics (a series publishing forgotten classics). Deciding on an appropriate outfit for such an event was tricky, but my wedding shoes came to the rescue as the solution to all sartorial dilemmas. We headed onto the subway and I gloried in the admiring glances at my footwear. We went to Grand Central station to admire the ceiling and then headed to the food court for a cheap (but very nice) dinner. From there we went to the New York Public Library and nudged each other in glee at our coolness. The panel of speakers (including Michael Cunningham, author of the Hours) were interesting and Layla became very excited at sound of a biography by a mad person. She’s such a nerd, bless her. Curiously, the audience questions were much ruder than one would get in England (“I know I’m 30 years younger than the panel members, but would be interested to know their thoughts on why it’s worth publishing books, when you can have e-books”).
We then headed over the road for cocktails in the Library Hotel (Layla ordered a bowl of chips to go with her Hemmingway cocktail and was somewhat bitter when crisps were brought…she ate them with relish anyway, mind you). From there we got a cab back to Greenwich Village and popped into the Grey Dog for a final drink.
11/05/2009
Blog by Layla
We woke up yesterday, and yawned at the early hour: we are both being destroyed by jetlag. Or maybe wedding exhaustion - perhaps this is why lots of people honeymoon on desert islands... At any rate, Roz put the early hour to good use by going to a yoga class while I attempted to nap. Roz returned with pastries, and then we set off on the underground to the Financial District, and more specifically to the Brooklyn Bridge. A major NYC icon, we were very keen to walk across the pedestrian footpath, but first managed to get lost and had to ask directions from a friendly policeman, just like in old fashioned books (I'm not sure a London policeman would have been so keen to help...) Eventually we found it and crossed the bridge over the Hudson, the skyscrapers of the financial district in one direction, the Statue of Liberty in the other, and a gloriously crisp blue sky above us, reflected on the sparkling blue water of the Hudson below. We felt very happy.
Once across the bridge, we found a tube station and caught a train to Park Slope, the alleged lesbian area of Brooklyn. We had hoped it would be nice and gentrified, but clearly got off at the wrong place as it seemed a bit dodgy, and very quiet. Fortunately we found a delicious lunch place called Perch (can highly recommend the pear and walnut salad... and the nachos, which had the best guacamole I've had outside of Mexico!) and read the New Yorker over coffee. Afterwards, as we continued to walk up 5th Avenue Brooklyn, we found an array of quirky little boutiques, cafes and bars, bought earrings and a bracelet, and hit The Chocolate Room, my Brooklyn Mecca. And it was glorious. I had a massive chocolate brownie with ice cream and it was the best I've ever had. Roz had some caramelly chocolate thing. It was a very sweet little cafe and it was all Roz could do to pull me away and drag me to the tube where we crawled home in exhaustion for a giving-in-to-jetlag afternoon nap.
It seems to be the pattern of our evenings that we feel like death and want to go to bed at 6pm, but drag ourselves up and recover. Last night we were off to Homo Comicus, a gay comedy night part of the NYC Comedy Festival, at the famous Gotham Comedy Club in Chelsea. But first we went to Blossom, one of NYC's most famed vegetarian restaurants, just around the corner. Blossom was lovely: a really lovely atmosphere and interesting food. Raw food is a big craze here in NYC so we started with raw sweet potato rolls. They tasted... raw. I had massive food envy over Roz's beautifully cooked Thai crispy tofu curry, but my filo pastry vegetables were good too. And despite being far too full, I couldn't resist the non-dairy cheesecake, which was excellent. The comedy club was interesting: four acts, who had rather similar jokes (that the lesbians in the room were missing the Yankees game, that Maine and New Jersey had voted against gay marriage rights, funny things they did in Provincetown...) but it was really great to see New York comedy, and fun to be part of the gay comedy scene. It was a lovely night. Though its 10:15 finish was beyond the capacity of your two jet lagged ladies. We crawled onto the tube and rolled into bed, exhausted.
11/04/2009
Blog by Roz.
11/03/2009
Blog post by Layla
07/28/2009
On 9:20am on Monday 2nd November, we will be jetting off from Heathrow Airport, sipping champagne and gazing at our wedding rings, as we fly towards the bright lights of New York City. As people have been buying us wedding gifts from our wedding list at honeymoney (thank you so much!), we think it's only fair that you get to hear about how we get on in NYC, and how much we enjoy your gifts. So while we're on holiday, we'll be writing this blog regularly so that you can keep up with our New York adventures and hear about your gifts in real time! Tune in until we board the plane home at 6:10pm on 15th November, having had a really wonderful honeymoon (thanks to you - if Layla had had her way, we'd have been in a B&B in Blackpool).
