Gay New York: best enjoyed without pints of vodka-Red-bull

As far as alcohol is concerned, I am what my friends’ best summarize as ‘a liability’. Sometimes I wonder whether a vocation in communications is actually a good thing… That said as organized and collected as I am in the office, away from the pressures of multi-tasking and multiple deadlines sometimes its quite a different story.

Friday night had been on the cards all week and was always going to be messy, however I can’t say I was fully prepared for the evening’s eventualities.

Most people have heard the stories about vodka-Red-bull. You must have heard at least one right? I’ve heard the words ‘evil’, ‘dangerous’ and ‘potent’ mentioned more than once from various sources but honestly had no idea how lethal large amounts – or should I say two pints – could be. [Before you ask, yes that’s exactly how they were served in more than one gay bar we went to]. For dignity’s sake we won’t go into the icky details, let’s just say one minute I was fluttering around feeling quite the social butterfly and the next I was best friends with the floor of a restroom cubicle.

To describe the ins and outs of navigating the long journey home is not my purpose. ‘What did you learn from last night?’ my very patient dearly beloved asked me. Well, two things. Firstly, despite the appalling hangover, extra day off wasted and new bruise the size of a third breast, something still warms me about the whole experience and that is that there are good people in the world. There are good people that work in bars, who find money, phones and shoes. There are good people, despite being complete strangers who give you the sweater off their back when you’re cold, hold you up so you can rid your insides of bad things [aka said lethal poison] and stay with you reiterating that it’s all going to be ok. There are good people who find your friends, even when following your disappearance they move onto pastures new thinking that you’ve turned in for the night. There are good people who put you in cabs and make the driver circle the block until you can find the common sense to utter the cross streets you live at. And lastly there are also good people who unknowingly take what doesn’t belong to them [like winter coats] and make the effort to return them to the rightful owner. But most of all there are people out there who do all this because they are good, kind people and have things like values, honesty and humanity. In a world where every day we hear about bombings, destruction, death and misery I think that’s a very warming thought. This Valentine’s day, I dedicate this post to all the good people and especially my dear friends who will read this and smile because they do not need the details to work out what the worst parts of Friday night looked like

Oh, and the second thing learnt? Stop, think and reflect. It is never a good idea to drink pints of Vodka-Red-Bull.

Worm pie anyone?

I love hosting dinner parties. Despite the anxiety that comes with wanting everything to be perfect, I love the slow cooking over a glass of wine while music collections are being tested out in the background. Last night was no different. We had arranged to have new friends over for dinner an awesome couple, fresh back from their Honeymoon in Mexico. I had decided to go with the ‘stick to what you’re best at’ approach and make my famous fish pie which for some reason has made many Americans recoil in disgust on hearing the term. It’s a medley of fresh seafood, vegetables and a secret sauce that has always gone down well despite initial reservations.

Last night for some unknown reason I decided to be organized and do the time-suck grating and chopping of the vegetables, herbs and potatoes before marinating the fish – mistake number one.  Mistake number two was not doing my routine inspection of the fish [which, full disclosure, is always habit when sending James to the supermarket to buy the ingredients]. Mistake number three was not checking everything as soon as the goods were delivered, perhaps then I would have avoided the sheer horror of discovering not one, not two but three cod worms swimming in a pool of olive oil and lemon zest literally five minutes before our guests arrived. Let’s pause here. Yes I said worms, long, pink and dancing around with more energy than a collective gang of night clubbers on speed. Several expletives, wall punches and screams later we dismissed any notion of eating fish and tucked into the popovers and spinach and pine nut treats our friends had bought as part of the planned feast. All in all a great night filled with wine, card games and several rounds of Mortal Combat – but yes, back to those worms…

Our first action was to make a short video intended to publicly bash the supermarket that had sold us the infected goods and harness the powers of Twitter, You Tube and Facebook to damage a very good reputation. That said, after getting a full refund for the pie goods and a gift voucher to compensate for the stress endured my new intent is to educate – can you believe that this is a natural fishy phenomenon that in particular affects cod? If you don’t know about this, the sight of what you can potentially have to deal with is disturbing [the picture doesn’t capture those wild dance moves].  So lessons learnt 1) don’t eat cod 2) if you have to eat cod do some SERIOUS slicing and dicing inspection 3) if you do find something do take the goods back because natural phenomenon or not you can’t eat these worms [although I was told that fully cooked they can’t harm you…] 4) know that this apparently is also common with swordfish and 5) failing all else if you are faced with these wiggly creatures try and digest, deal and look on the funny side… [entertaining dancing worm video to follow…]

Definitely my kind of town…

Some places you just connect with, no matter how short the visit and Chicago for me was one of those places. I think it has a lot to do with a medley of attractions that when all wrapped up make it a perfectly balanced place. 1) The shopping is fantastic – the magnificent mile has just the right sprinkling of designer and affordable outlets 2) The architecture is like no other city – every building seems to have a compelling Raison d’Etre and when whizzing around the city on the top deck of a cheesy but effective Double Decker tour bus I was amazed just how much culture and history is packed into South, North, East and West. The maximum security FBI approved Sheraton, the Wrigley ‘bridge’ building, the Jewelry ‘gangster car-elevator get-away’ building and oh, Opera’s new two-floor apartment [one level for full gym… of course].  3) The food – without a doubt the best Mexican I’ve ever had and totally worth the one-chair-share at the bar James and I did from appetizer right through to dessert. The pizza too is to die for – I will say for the record that the best bites do not always come served on a super thin crust. 4) The friendliness of the crowd, even the homeless are happy – especially the one who sang thanks for my leftover superbly cooked scallops from N9ne Steakhouse. 6) The dive bars – we didn’t go to many but the Billy Goat Tavern was very good, not least but in part because of the Bacardi-Cranberry-7UP-sugar fest infused ‘Horny Goat’ special. 5) The magic – I think it’s fair to say some cities just have it. I challenge you to go up to the Signature Lounge at the John Hancock and tell me otherwise.   

Thanks to some impeccable timing and the generosity of a local couple, we were lucky enough to balance the tourist thing with something a little authentic and different. The Chicago Gourmet Food and Wine Fair that was holding its second annual get together right in the middle of famous [and wedding party filled] Millennium Park. The shame was that we were handed the free passes while trying to walk off a heavy liquid lunch, that said I’m not even going to try and pretend that we let it at all interfered with the countless wine and spirit tasting that took us into the early evening…

All in all a great way to spend a long weekend and the second in our East Coast adventure saga. I’m sad to admit that I actually prepared a PR style briefing book for the event – we went a little “off route – recalculating” as the famous Sat Nav lady says. A general theme throughout our travels [and my day-to-day orientation] and perhaps not a bad re-name for this blog…

Settling into Chelsea Chic…

We’ve officially spent our first two weeks settling into life in the Big Apple. Our new hood is the urban, chic and wonderfully gay Chelsea right down on W. 23rd between 9th and 10th. Finding our new gem of an apartment [ahem… complete with Olympic-sized indoor pool] was no mean feat and battling the broker scene is something I really hope I never have to deal with again. However in the end, the hunt through characterless and bland listings paid off. Our stuff also arrived safe and sound and very nearly just the way we packed it.

The Labor Day weekend was a welcome opportunity to get moved in but not before watching a great Metz vs. Cubs match at Citi Field. Yes chicken wings, two sides of fries and two beers at $40 did initially knock me for six however the victory seemed completely worth it, particularly when you consider the hip hop-on-the-spot dancing you are encouraged to do each time a player makes it past a base. It’s our second Metz experience to date and something tells me if James has anything to do with it there will be many more…

So thoughts so far on East Coast life… The buzz of the city is unlike anything else but the crowds, sounds and pace remind me of London. I like that everything is flatter and smaller than SF and that we’re a mere stone’s throw away from the Hudson River. The views from the roof deck are also special – who needs a garden when you have 360 degree high-rise exposure to the city wonders. Weather wise we’re lucky to have moved at a time that’s moderate, occasionally sunny and generally mild. I am very much looking forward to the much talked about fall, Holiday snow and then extreme summer steam.

Food wise the choice here excites me daily, that said it’s easy to go wrong and I for one haven’t found a better tip source than Yelp. Cook Shop, Sushi, Pastis and Landmarc are just some of the favorites we’ve been to so far. City weekend strolls have so far taken us to Tribeca, The West Village and all around Central Park. Closer to home the amazing Highline is right at the end of our block and is a complete world away from the hustling and bustling theatre experience we had last weekend while seeing Wicked in Times Square.

So, with the apartment nearly looking like home and work feeling like a gradual adjustment now we’re left with finding some friend-to-be New Yorkers. If they’re anything like D Mack and G Dog we should be laughing…

Muddy Feet and Yellow Skies at All Points West 09′

 

NY skyline at AllPointsWest09

This year’s second All Points West Music and Arts Festival should have been called All Weathers East. Rain, wind, sun and then…mud, mud and a lot more mud. However fear not, what started off as a pretty miserable afternoon spent in long seemingly pointless queues soon morphed into happy people drinking beer, eating pizza and sliding through brown sodden fields to visit the arty attractions of the show. There were Toyota airbrush tattoos, helium balloons, and chill-out tents a plenty. Although we didn’t slide over as far as the H&M tent I am told they were also handily supplying reusable water bottles and providing cell phone charging stations.

The band line up was no Coachella but was definitely not to be sniffed at. My only complaint – as it was in Palm Springs – is the scheduling of the biggies at the same time to try and disperse the crowds. Coldplay vs. MGMT and Elbow vs. We are Scientists. We voted for the former of each pairing and were not disappointed. Elbow I admittedly haven’t heard much of but will definitely be tracking moving forward. Lots of Mancunian humor, strong vocals from Guy Garvey and mud-related audience participation. In fact, the mud despite causing initial mobility issues was soon embraced by all. One lone little piggy in particular decided to soil anyone who dared walk through the worst parts of the field using his whole body to create an airborne sheet of murky brown water – nice. Posey-man-in-white-shorts was not impressed I can assure you… Not having been to any real UK festivals [incredible I know] I can only imagine that years of Glastonbury would have taught me about the wonders of jelly boots, wellingtons or gum boots if you will… mental note for next time.

Muddy Fun

More beer, pizza and port-a-loo queues later Coldplay delivered the magic touch of the evening with a two hour rendition of favorites old and new. Chris Martin and the boys have always held a special place in my heart, their music through the albums has been consistently stunning and the real thing was no different if not more brilliant. Something about the sounds combined with the view of the NY skyline and Statue of Liberty all set against the helium balloons now fully visible by blue lights in the night sky made it all a bit, well… quite moving really. I should also add a reference here to the mystical sun-balls that bounced into the crowd as if by magic to the opening notes of Yellow. Even despite the balloon phobia, this for me put the first big smile on my face about the big move ahead.

If that wasn’t enough, the true highpoint of the night had to be when James spotted the mini-stage being microphone tested mid-song. We sprinted/slugged over to be put a mere ten feet from the band who came trench-footing it through for the fans to sing some acoustic renditions including an awesome version of Billy Jean – MJ would have been proud.

Famous fins, killer crabs and the search for Sun in Cape Fog

The real 'killers' of course need those sharp nippers tied

Despite whatever picture the title of this posting might initially paint, all-in-all we’ve had a very relaxing week-long break spent exploring New England’s fine shores. Granted it didn’t quite start out as smoothly as planned, that said I am a firm believer that it takes the best part of a day to fully transition from work mode to holiday vibe. Anyhow, vibes aside the weather was one thing that really did remind me of old England, hence the fog reference. It’s not so much the physical presence of rain but the threat that it may come at any time and with very little warning. Luckily, despite several dark overcasts we managed to get in a respectable amount of sunbathing, swimming and come away with those much sought after tan lines. Hurrah, success.

The first four days of our trip were spent in the little Easterly town of Chatham. Quaint, peaceful and balanced are the adjectives I’d use here. I’ll admit I was initially a little turned off by the huge presence of oldies [2 miles an hour pavement speed restrictions all round] but actually quickly realized that this meant a welcomed screaming-small-children-free zone. If you’re ever visiting the area stop by the Oyster pond. Probably one of my biggest weaknesses is the inability to withstand non-tropical sea water temperatures for more than approximately seven minutes. This often makes for a very boring beach companion, so I was very happy when we came across the warm bath like pond complete with floating platforms for jumping off, swimming around and Jaws re-enactment scenes of course. It’s also here that the small [but lethal] sand crab we saw [cleverly playing-dead] floated by and the next minute took a nipping at James’ big toe. High pitched screams yes but fear not he lives to tell the tale here.

Whale watching off the coast of Provincetown

The one activity which consistently draws huge crowds here is the whale watching. I’d heard great things from friends but truth be told had my reservations. Maybe something to do with the fact that we’d spent the best part of six hours searching for the same thing in the Bay of Islands and come across nada – that’s nothing, niente, not even a small sea turtle or a handful of jellyfish. This time, forget pleasantly surprised, I was overjoyed and jumping up and down like one of the small children I normally retract at. Not only did we see whales rising up in unison on their quest for food, we also saw feeding at close view [complete with baleen gulps and swarming seagulls trying to poach rogue fish], breaching and some enthusiastic tail slapping mid-ocean. A lover of all [pretty] sea creatures I don’t think I’ve been so excited.    

The journey to our randomly selected second destination – Falmouth – took us through some the brilliantly named towns of Mashpee and Sandwich [all the while listening to Walcott by Vampire Weekend on repeat of course]. We did more beaching, more swimming, more reading and naturally more eating. We visited some great little places, and some not so good ones – check out all raves and rants here. Top highlight had to be watching James [literally] tear apart a lobster seafood hot pot at La Cucina Sul Mare. Probably the most fun day, whale watching aside had to be our biking adventures on Martha’s Vineyard. The scenery here is stunning, think tiny but perfect beaches, candy colored Hansel and Gretel style houses and lots of greenery, ponds and sprawling forest pathways. We had a downstream float in what I am told is a film-famous stream and a lot of exercise thanks to a wayward bicycle path.   

We all know the feeling of trying to drag out a holiday as long as possible. Today was no different, however we knew it was time to leave when winds became so strong that a seagull literally got stuck in flight ten feet in front of us. It was like watching a strange slow motion airborne treadmill race, I guess you had to be there.

To wrap things up, the drive from The Cape to Boston was an interesting one. Lessoned learned and note to self/James- an iPhone’s mobile roaming system is no replacement for a fully equipped car ready GPS. Combine that with a thunderous downpour post car drop off and a sprint for the train only to find you have forgotten to print valid tickets and let’s say enough’s enough. Let’s hope this isn’t a cursed sign for the flat hunting adventure that lies ahead… In any case All Points West on Sunday should soften any type of blow. Stay tuned…

It’s the little things that count…

 

Songs-a-plenty at Silverclouds

Last weekend got me thinking about all the little things I’m going to miss about living in sunny Cisco. Half of them you won’t find in the Lonely Planet, but that’s the real beauty of actually living somewhere vs. a quick visit. Here is a sampling in no real order…

Weekend visits to Wags on Polk: I’ve heard that the Americans’ overpowering love for their dogs lucikly extends beyond SF’s boarders. That said I’m not sure we’ll find somewhere quite like Wags. Weekend errand trips to Polk always included a stop to see which Nob Hill four footed residents were being treated to a wash, cut, blow dry or beard trim. Despite a career in PR, dog grooming I belive is James‘ real calling. ['Walkers Walkies' has a certain ring to it surely...] In truth, I’ve never seen dogs look so happy. The best time to visit is Saturdays late morning when the floor is literally teaming with pups and pooches. Beware here if you too are with someone who desperately wants a dog and is fighting to convince you, I have nearly broken more than once…

Karaoke at SilverClouds: I can’t count how many times we’ve been here since moving here in December 2007. What I love most about those drunken fueled nights is that you rarely set about planning them, one minute you’re having a civilized glass of chardonnay the next you’re screaming your lungs out fighting to get on centre stage. To mix things up last Friday we hit it up at Mint in the Mission which was great fun. That said Silverclouds for me will always be the place to sing your heart out in SF.

The foghorns on the Bay: Although almost all our UK visitors complained about the incessant honking sounds that drift over the bay I have to admit I now find them very soothing, almost the perfect sound to take you into a deep sleep…

Daily sunsets over the Golden Gate: The view from the fire escape of our little Nob Hill apartment is one thing I know I’ll pine for the most despite how great my new Manhattan abode may be. An average of 5/7 red skies a week I think is a pretty special thing.

The late tram home: It’s one thing to make the scenic 30 minute walk down California Street to work in the morning, it’s another to try and fight it up the steep hill after a hard day’s slog. [British folk think car chase scene in The Rock] Forget taxis and buses, the Market-Powell evening cable evening car ride is all you need to unwind from a long day.

Dinner, drinks and laughter: From girlie chats in Chez Maman [now Gamine], to festive drinks in Columbus cafe, to group gatherings at Polkers, La Barca and many a happy drunken evening spent in The Hi Dive, there are of a collection of eateries and bars that will always bring back the good old times. If it’s one thing I know I’ll miss most it’s the great friends we’ll be leaving behind.

What will I not miss? Very little… well maybe the hills – James I think agrees, check out his story here. [Possibly also the insane lady that lives next door and sings to the birds every morning at 7.30am. I do hope she’s not a follower…] We touched down in Boston last night and now have a week of East Coast vacationing before the apartment hunt, watch this space…

Moving to New York….

The Big Apple awaits....

well I’ve always had problems with my feet but this time [and as the Wombats sing it] it’s a good thing. For the last few weeks I’ve realized my blog posting has died a slow road to death, well maybe not quite death. I’ve been hunting for a good way to get the show back on the road [but got distracted by wakeboarding trips to Tahoe, visting nephews... you get the idea]. So what better reason than a rellocation to the Big Apple! True we’ve only been in SF a short time, but these things happen quickly and so now is for us the time to say a fond farewell and a big welcome to all things new. This weekend has been spent discovering the many new neighborhoods we have to choose from - the West Village, Upper West side and Greenwich Village are all favorites. Queens was a true highlight – from our first Mets game to James’ face as we realized the G line wasn’t in fact taking us from Brooklyn to Manhattan as the clock striked midnight. Fun and games and all things exciting. Here’s to my promise to keep you updated on my very own Sex in the City story…. well something like that, stay tuned

Coachella 2009: We’ve arrived!

Eager Coachella Beavers

Having never been to a festival of any kind, Coachella was always going to be a memorable experience. Day one did not dissapoint. Top music, a quality vibe and a seriously impressive array of sights including a larger than life car crushing device, watermills, ice tents and electricity coils. The music is of course the big draw, however even if you don’t make your way round to see the bands there is still a ridiculous amount to see and do. 

Sounds from day one include: We are Scientists, Airbourne Toxic Event (Clarkey’s new favourite band), The Hold Steady, Los Campolinos, Franz Ferdinand and the Ting Tings.  Would write more but off to enjoy day two – more to follow…

Balloon Phobia

Daisy and her followers

It’s been three full days that I’ve survived being in the same room as a helium balloon – for me that’s actually a lifetime acheivement, here’s why. For those of you don’t know I’m petrified of the damn things – childhood fear and its the bang that gets me every time. For anyone that thinks I am kidding check this out. Arriving in the US I knew people were going to find this bizarre – it is just that, however I am surprised at how many times I’ve been in an ‘extreme balloon situation’. Three examples below:

1) During my first trip to LA with Lindsay going to a Cinco de Mayo house party in Beverley Hills. The party was awesome – the problem was the ride over which involved me being forced into the backseat of the car with 27 balloons jammed into the trunk and then spilling over into the backseat. I can’t tell you much about that journey, I zoned out, the only way to cope.

2) The many trips to the embarcadero – if there’s one thing that’s worse than balloons, its clowns with balloons of the twisted animal variety. WRONG in every sense of the word. I know it’s touristsville but necessary? I think not.

3) At Ben’s birthday last year when luckily I’d had the adequate amount of alcohol to withstand the presence of a bunch of pretty standard balloons including a rogue cow shaped one [see pic above].  

I hope one day this fear will die and leave me, for now I think its actually getting worse, the fact that I had to make James put Ali’s Birthday balloon in a suitcase to get it from the office to the car speaks [sadly worrying] volumes.