Let's Hear It For New York

I am happy to report that New York is everything you could want, hope, anticipate and expect it to be. Actually, I think I might be in love. I think I might officially I Heart NY.

After managing to extricate myself from JFK airport, avoiding the ‘unofficial’ taxi drivers who cornered me as soon as I walked out the door, I found myself a nice, stereotypical yellow cab to wing me into the city. If the realisation that I was finally in New York hadn’t quite hit, it sure whacked me in the face when I saw the city skyline. Hurtling across the bridge to the West side, the Empire State Building towered bright and beautiful above them all, her disco lights iridescent against the evening sky. It caught me straight in the chest. I was in New York City.

After recovering from my sleep deprivation and with a bit of breakfast in my belly (yes... I had a bagel) I took to the New York streets this morning to see what I could find. With my hostel a few streets away from Central Park, I decided to start my Saturday just like everyone else in New York. If you fancy yourself a bit of people-watching or the occasional eavesdrop, Central Park provides a bevy of opportunity. And the best part is that Americans have a habit of speaking at full volume, so listening in isn’t even avoidable. I had to smile this morning when I had the words ‘flip flops’ actually used in a sentence. All this time, I thought it was a linguistic urban legend.

Central park also boasts men. Lots of hot, sweaty six-packed men who like to jog the length of the park without their shirts on. It’s hard not to outwardly stare or attempt to ‘accidently’ be bumped into as they run past. But if sweaty six-packs aren’t your thing so early in the morning, you can always go for one of the beer guts playing baseball in the middle of the park. Middle-aged men living out their boyhood dreams to be the next Babe Ruth – too cute.

Once I’d made it through Central Park it was onwards to Time Square. Time Square is the geographical version of a pin-ball machine. Everywhere you look there are neon lights and flashing banners and the crowds and cabs buffet you from one street to the next. Being a Saturday, the markets were on, lining the street up to Time Square with a litter of stalls selling NYPD rip-offs and Prada fakes. But in the midst of the tents and the smell of BBQ corn-on-the-cob, the city culture was undeniable. I bought a hat and the man who sold it to me crowned it on my head saying it would bring me good fortune.

You don’t get that in Surry Hills.

From Time Square, I meandered my way through the city streets, surprised at the simplicity of the city’s layout - all numbers and names which lie parallel with each other, making it perfect for women with a poor sense of direction. Everywhere I looked, memories from movies scenes and Sex in the City locations popped up one after another - Bergdorfs, Prada and Fifth Ave. I felt strangely at home.

But the star which sparkled most on this banner was the Cathedral of Saint Patrick – a historical hotspot I wouldn’t have known about had I not been romanced inside by the stunning architecture of the church. The enormity of the cathedral was breathtaking - the ceilings were so high you could barely make out the carved detailing and the stain-glass windows were illuminated with the coloured images of the Saints. I may not be Catholic, but no one could enter that Cathedral and not exit with their jaw dragging along the ground. I was all ready to get snap happy, only to find to my tourist horror that my battery was dead. Thankfully, I get to do New York: The Sequel in September so returning to the Cathedral will be on the top of my photography list.

I have seen maybe an eighth of everything New York has to offer, but from what I’ve seen today, I am utterly smitten.

These streets will make you feel brand new, these lights will inspire you – I hear you, Alicia.

Ciao for now. xo