Wot no Flags!

July draws to a close, the air-conditioning is booming and I now know what it means to live in a super-city during a summer heatwave; hot being the obvious answer. My genius idea of running home from Harlem-125th to Midtown 2-3 nights a week has melted faster than the double chocolate sundae sandwich I haven't yet had from the 9th ave Creamery....(1,250 calories KABOOM, you can't believe they have to put the nutritional impact up on their boards by law!)

The heat has certainly been oppressive; sidewalks steamin', clothing down to a bare minimum and kids messing around with open water-hydrants in the southside Bronx (particularly like knowing the movies haven't lied to me on that last one). That said, most everywhere is air-conditioned so it's definitely manageable and the certainty of knowing that tomorrow is going to be a hot one is a novelty

All around, people looking half-dead, walking on the sidewalk hotter than a match-head

The month started out with the annual 4th of July public holiday, which as far as I could gather, signals the start of the middle-class exodus to the beaches beyond New York; the Hamptons, Martha's Vineyard, Nantucket and the famed "Shore" down in New Jersey. I ventured along to East Hampton out at the easternmost stretch of Long Island. Certainly the temporary denizens weren't short of money as some of the grand houses attested but I was expecting a pumping beach scene of which there was next to none on an overcast muggy day. The lobster roll helped me through but I'm pretty sure I'm missing something on that one so I'll leave comment for another day.

Back in the city, I made it down to a crowded 12th avenue alongside the Hudson to witness the annual Macy's 4th of July Firework display - a specatcular show of boom-booms lighting up the sky for a good length of the river

The atmosphere was very relaxed and friendly as I have come to expect from US communal events but two things struck me after half an hour scratching my head: 1. the smell of cordite standing there in my short-sleeves and 2. where were the flags? The only time we generally get to see fireworks back in the UK is in November so the opportunity to wear shorts, sandals and T-shirt at 10pm was gratefully received though it definitely threw me at first. The second element was not what I had expected at all, ready as I was for a display of American jingoism. Perhaps it's to do with the quantity of recent immigrants in New York but I only saw one or two star-spangled banners and the rendition of America the Beautiful by a group of college students was actually quite touching. As a Brit whose tea had all been chucked back at him more than 2 centuries ago, I can recommend the celebration.

The Third Way or Why New Yorkers Push Harder

What I’ve noticed over the past couple of weeks is that New Yorkers push harder, be it the playing fields of Central Park, the Midtown bars or the Lower East Side music joints. Perhaps I’m still in the honeymoon period but one can’t help but marvel at the energy and ambition coursing through this city’s being. 

There is certainly a strong sense of the self here with everyone having the right to follow his or her path, but rather less obvious is the community spirit prevalent to support this individualism; if you’re trying hard, we’re all behind you. The most obvious manifestation of this would probably be the ubiquitous “good job” which we tend to see through cynical eyes as unnecessary hyperbole but is actually somewhat of a feedback loop employed from a very early age to encourage their offspring. As a consequence, I would generalise and say that people here don’t tend to sit inert while the world passes them by but commit fully and either succeed or fail; failure at the very least bringing experience and hopefully resilience. It’s quite inspiring actually.

New Yorkers don’t just put their all into work but also play. I witnessed this first hand on a recent trip to Governer’s Island, a smallish clump of land a 10 minute ferry crossing from downtown Manhattan, where unawares I landed in the middle of a ‘Jazz Age’ festival on one of the lawns. I’d noticed a few girls dressed up like Tallulah in Bugsy Malone but hadn’t really twigged that this wasn’t just the latest trend given the amount of tattoo ink that went with the delicate dresses and headscarves.

The gusto with which the Americans take on their task of getting into the swing of things is full-on. I can’t envisage the same amount of effort going into a similar idea back in England. With prohibition ditties emanating from the rather superb Michael Arenella & His Dreamland Orchestra I felt like I'd landed on Jay Gatsby's lawn. Here's a sample of the atmosphere....

One dreamland snooze later, I returned to Manhattan Island to work out what drives New Yorkers to push harder....while I would love to pour scorn on popular opinion and tell you it is some higher purpose, I honestly think a lot of it boils down to the almighty dollar. I've overheard a number of conversations where he who makes the most money is generally considered to be the winner; the rich are venerated such that a 2007 poll of Wall Street bankers found that if there was a 50% chance of getting caught stealing $10 million, only 7% would do it but if the chance of getting caught were zero, this number jumped to a staggering 58% (New Yorker article on Raj Rajaratnam worth a read)

I also found an interesting article explaining some of the differences between the various cities in the US and how their ambitions differ - New York is money, LA is lifestyle, Boston is intellectualism and Silicon Valley is all about power. "Ambition is Critical"

For the most part, the sheer optimism is proving very inspiring and be it for money or something else, the energy is excellent

Is that Barack Obama?...Well, it's either him or Justin Bieber, they're both in town tonight

What I learned this week; New Yorkers are gorgeous. They're fit and lean; radiate wellness and appear to take on life with jaw-dropping enthusiasm at all times. Clearly this is a series of sweeping statements which can't be universally true but given the amount of people you have to pass on the sidewalks every day, not to mention on the train and in the park, I'd say my sample size is none too shabby. In fact Central Park instantly gives the lie to Blur's claim that it's "not about you joggers who go round and round" - I think it actually is about them.

I started the week with what I hope can become a habit: getting off the train at Harlem 125th, patting myself on the back for being so "street" getting off in Harlem then jogging down to the northside of Central Park and taking one of the many routes through the various wooded enclaves, lawns and gardens. Apart from feeling like I was going to be scolded for running anti-clockwise round the park, I couldn't get over how fast everyone seemed to be running - I'd love to say it was people of all shapes and sizes but "cut" seemed to be the only shape the men carried (tops off though, not cool) and svelte pretty much sums up the girls. What I did like about it was some sort of jedi-mind trick which made me suck my gut in, straighten my back and run faster so I got a better work out too.

Anyways, I didn't quite make it home because I was knackered about 3/4 of the way through the run when I saw a crowd of people gathered in the last rays of the evening sun, watching a concert in the Naumburg Bandshell where I found out they host a series of classical evenings throughout the summer months. Sniffing out a good excuse to stop jogging if ever there was one, I slipped on my pretentious hat and thought I would stand and watch for 5 minutes before heading home so that I could tell everyone that I stood and watched for an hour before heading home. In the end, the Knights orchestra (and the people-watching) had me glued to the spot for.... about an hour actually where they performed a rousing Beethoven's 5th Symphony and the World Premiere of a piece entitled "Templehof Etude" by a lady named Lisa Bielawa which apparently is the first chapter in a movement to be performed by 600+ musicians on the tarmac of Templehof Airport in Berlin

Culture? Whatever, there are free concerts every night of the week in Hyde Park too aren't there?

Back to Harlem the following night with the man, the myth, Mike Brown whose resignation from the office gave me the opportunity to be here in NYC this summer. The venue was a legendary BBQ joint on the Hudson westside - 125th again: Dinosaur BBQ delivered! I've always been bemused by the popularity of ribs which seem to lack meat whenever I've had them. Not so at Dino's - succulent and fleshy - we had ours with pulled pork (shredded I take that to mean) and classic American side dishes; mac&cheese, 'slaw and succotash - the last of which I had no idea what it was other than it was always "sufferin'" to Sylvester in the Looney Tunes cartoons. Beer was pretty good there too.

Later in the week, I was taken out with a few guys from work to a New York trendy double-header of Tao Asian fusion restaurant and Lavo Italian restaurant and nightclub (home of the Sunday Bikini Brunch party) for drinks afterwards. It was on the way to this party that I found 5th Avenue completely gridlocked for either Barack or Justin, noone quite new - steam rising up from the manhole covers, police directing traffic, a group of gay rights activists campaigning for gay weddings in New York State (they got it) - couldn't have been more of a stereotyped image of the Big Apple.

All you need to know about Tao is that they have a massive Buddha on a main stage who is definitely the fattest cat within 6 blocks; the food is pretty special but the lobster, shrimp and wagu sushi roll should be classified as overkill in anyone's book. Being greedy, I snaffled everything on offer such that the delicate flavours all started to meld into one by the time I'd finished. Must remember to think whilst I eat in future or risk being viewed as some kind of tourist from Idaho.

So, despite being a trendy hang-out for the young, hot and semi-famous, Lavo exemplified how approachable people are in the US. I'm sure the English accent (they all call it British over here, tell that to a Scot) helps give you an 'in' but most people seem prepared to give you the time of day which I find very refreshing. Maybe this happens in London too but I just get the impression that Brits find themselves in their element in New York - discovering that Americans aren't being insincere for the most part and that a life of dry, caustic sarcasm and self-deprecation aren't the only ways people get through this thing called life (saying that, I'm now getting all nostalgic for low-key downbeatism weirdly enough)

After seeing the whole club congratulate a young Turkish 6'10" giant called Enes Kanter (3rd pick in the NBA draft), I was introduced to another smokin' black girl (seems to be becoming a bit of a theme) who took a bit of a shine to me  - so much so that she even offered to take me home if I was prepared to make a donation. Thought I should call it a night so I did go home. Alone.

Away from the name-dropping, I've got a couple of theories about amibition in New York and also convenience, which I'll share over the next couple of posts if anyone's still out there. Y'all take care now y'hear

Colo(u)rs – ‘Life…that’s what we call it, Life’

“Here you go, sir” said the taxi driver, struggling to park up outside the apartment block in Midtown West, New York; otherwise known as home for the next 3 months. A glorious slice of fortune has come my way to explore this famed metropolis from now until mid-September and as promised (myself), I’m going to be leveraging this opportunity (you see, NY patois down already!) to squeeze every last pip out of the Big Apple and beyond; to understand what enables New Yorkers to make it through their super-sized days of early mornings, long hours, copious culinary offerings  (and gym) whilst still maintaining that optimistic outlook which for me as a Brit makes me realise how different a culture it can be to my life in London.

So, the very first thing I do upon arriving at my building is try to drag all my luggage through the revolving doors which ends up badly – I think it’s automatic, it’s not, I think I’ve broken it, I haven’t – I just look a total numpty.

The apartment provided by work is a sleek 1 bed effort – all mod-cons, including an air conditioning ventilation system which I have to phone the concierge to help me work “just lift up the panel and turn the dial, sir”. From watching MTV Cribs I know that the bedroom should be where the magic happens and where I keep my sneakers – it’s big enough to handle both. The fridge brings my first pang of NY guilt for the fact it’s enormous and bare; chugging along freezing and chilling absolutely nothing. I think about turning it off but then recognise that I should probably put stuff in it instead.

The apartment is on the 19^th floor which you’d think would provide a grand view of pretty much everything. Well, that is not nearly the case as a quick peer through the blinds reveals myriad skyscrapers dwarfing my vantage point. Vertigo and adrenalin mixed together.

After a walk around the block and half an attempt to put some clothes away, I head out in the early evening rain to meet up with an old friend from London, Alex, who is currently making a name for herself as a ridiculously talented singer songwriter in the city. Her soon-to-be record label (I have faith!), Neon Gold is holding a launch party at Tammany Hall in the Lower East Side for a new magazine (which I actually see no sign of). We meet up at Snug, a neighbourhood Irish bar in Hells Kitchen where my asking for 2 whiskey and cokes meets with my first “I love your accent” of the tour…terrific to know that the stereotype is true – bodes well.

Lower East Side seems to be the guaranteed home of good times in New York; lots of small venues, boutique bars and home to the hipster generation that hasn’t yet fled Manhattan to Williamsburg, Brookyln – like Camden without the black make-up. Lower East Side = Strokes. The first band on are called the “1, 2, 3s” and after a coldish start, work their way up through a few styles of guitar music. Halfway through their set, a guy and a girl with their hoodies up, work their way through the crowd. They’re obviously the next band on and it immediately triggers a sense of intrigue despite their artistically-pained expressions.

For the crowd it’s all about Grouplove. I’d caught the groove on Spotify beforehand but nothing had prepared me for the next hour of possibly one of the top 5 gigs of my life. Smaller venues (200 people?) always help but the lead singer/guitarist, Christian Zucconi cut such a rockstar figure; searing vocals in a sort of high-pitched nasal west coast drawl, lank hair, and the passion…oh the effort this boy was putting in was something else. Well and truly in the zone with his merry band of troubadours bouncing round the stage knocking out tune after incredibly catchy tune. The dynamic of his female sidekick, Hannah Hooper, worked very well providing an alternative stream of pitch and vocal which gave their sound a good depth. Even the lead guitarist and bassist sang lead at some stage. 

Surely the highlight came when they started their song "Tongue Tied" and about 50 multi-coloured, multi-sized balloons were released from I don’t know where and the crowd threw themselves around like schoolchildren, each grinning ear to ear in … well, group love, a shared moment, the lost chord experience! They finished their set with Colors which is the single I suppose they must be pushing. I urge you to check them out – if they’re not the next big thing, I’ll eat my bowler hat.

Outside the club, I got chatting to the bearded bassist who unbelievably turned out to be from London. Not quite sure how he’s worked his way in to this LA-based band but the concert certainly shows the best side of this town…..

The early-morning commute up to Stamford, Connecticut is definitely going to shut down quite a few potential stories (unless they happen in Stamford, unlikely) but I’m not going to dwell on that aspect of my life apart from saying that my 20-minute walk to Grand Central in the mornings can be done in a helluva lot of ways thanks to the grid set-up. Skyscrapers, bagels, steaming manhole covers – going to be enjoyable.

Bought my Kindle for the train journeys so any book suggestions welcome. I finished One Day by David Nicholls on a restful Friday evening. I’d seen quite a few people reading it on the tube and a friend had recommended it so decided to buy just before I left. The novel follows the lives of two protagonists on St Swithins Day each year for 20 years. The characters are well-developed, the writing sharp, funny and the observations accurate. A pretentious part of me wanted to dislike it but I shut that side down and ended up ....well have a read of the outline and see if you fancy picking it up. PS Hear there's a movie being made now

Thursday night, in search of a way to counteract the endless slices of pizza I can't stop stuffing down my gullet, I attempted to tame the NY beast and find a running route. My train home stops off at Harlem 125th Street before its final destination at Grand Central so I decided to see if I could work in a bit of Central Park. For those of you that have been, Central Park definitely provides respite to New York and I'd say gets used a bit more than we tend to use the parks back in London. That said, my route home from Liverpool Street past Westminster, through St James and Hyde Parks has been one of the joys this last year.

Well, the route worked, a bit gritty to start off with (I love an urban run mind) but once in Central Park, the lakes, giant boulders and heavy foliage proved there is a way to not become oompa-loompah man during my stay.

That evening, I met some people down at Beauty and Essex in the Lower East Side again - glamorous cocktails from even more glamorous waitresses. I ordered a "Dark and Stormy" from a gorgeous black girl (think Beyonce but better). She said they didn't do them then a couple of seconds later, turned and whispered "I know why you ordered that!". I didn't really but just nodded dumbstruck and smiled "hell yeah"

I was still feeling the jetlag I suppose but made it through to an awesome jazz/cocktail bar in the West Village called Little Branch - no sign, just a door with a bouncer but the smoothest live jazz and Mad Men style cocktails left me in no doubt that this place delivers

Headed to Brooklyn yesterday for annual Mermaid Parade with my regular New York guide par excellence, Sarah and her friend, Molly. I think the subway system is going to take a while to get to grips with - just too many words in the station describing weekends and express trains and late nights and locals and letters and numbers. Sarah tells me to just get on and hope. Can't help feeling there must be a better way but have my doubts when she tells me that "they call the B train an express but it actually isn't" - Manhattan Transport Authority struggling to come to terms with their public role apparently trying to hoodwink their passengers for a laugh

We left Coney Island station passing by the Tattoo and Shots Lounge (they actively get you drunk in a tattoo parlour, is that legal?) and down to the railings to take in the traditional start of summer festivities. Coney Island is everything Manhattan is not - and if I tell you Manhattan is fancy and clean I think you'll catch my drift. If you've seen the film, Big with Tom Hanks, the Coney Island amusement park is very similar and even has the same Zoltan character granting wishes. Hard not to be judgmental with a hilariously underwhelming parade of people dressed up as mermaids (shells covering their breasts - sometimes!), some old folks and one bloke just trudging along in his jeans and Return of the Jedi T-shirt.

Parade sacked off and a couple of "alcohols" down we ventured onto the Cyclone rollercoaster which I can still feel in my neck today

Couldn't make it across the street to the famous Nathan's Hot Dog store due to endless swathe of people crushed together. Might return on the 4th July when they have their world famous hotdog eating contest which as you'll see on the link looks like a pretty gruelling season of events.

We finished the day chilling back at Molly and Dave's place back in Park Slope after a primer on New York Jews and their varied observance of Judaism in all its forms - interesting stuff and pretty important given they form over 12% of New York's religious make-up. I've been promised a trip to see the ultra-orthodox set down in Williamsburg soon.

Buttermilk pancakes, bacon, sausage and ham this Sunday morning; washing given to Wash and Fold laundrymat and a chilled out afternoon in Central Park