New York, New York

I spent the first five days of March 2010 in New York City. I arrived late at JFK on the Monday, and was intrigued by the grottiness of it. Airports are pretty much the same all over the world. But once we were in the place was okay. Quite quick, really, in terms of my back pack turning up. But it was late, I was operating on not very many hours of sleep, and there is a three hour difference between the west and east coasts of the USA. I found an information desk and asked a chap there which was the best way into Manhattan. He told me details of the trains - cost, how long it would take, where I'd need to change. He told me about the cabs, and how they're capped at a price and how long it would take to get direct to my hotel.

I took the cab, with a little bit of a strange thrill. Their reputations aren't great, but I had an uneventful trip along the motorway that was almost devoid of traffic, and what traffic there was happily zipped along with no snags. My cabbie was polite, helped with my bag when I got to my hotel, and I was happy to tip him. (Yes, I've had US tipping etiquette explained: this is only a comment on my feelings based on the countries I've lived in where tipping isn't a necessity, but is a useful way to show appreciation when it's deserved). On the trip I could see banks of snow piled up along the road and in front of the houses. I'd been lucky: over the weekend Washington DC and the eastern states had been dumped on again with snow storms. Not only was New York not so badly hit, it had stopped in time for JFK to be clear. No, the delays I had was because of scheduled, but not well publicised, works to improve its main runway (thus closing it) and a bit of a scandal to do with the children of air traffic controllers speaking to air crews... Youch. Good thing I'm a good flier, and I don't think my flight was one affected.

My hotel had seen better days, but it was clean and certainly spacious! Two walk-in wardrobes, a fridge, decent sized bathroom and one of those monstrously huge beds that somehow didn't take up too much room in the main room. I was up on the 16th floor, and had a fairly good corner view of both the top of the impressive Chrysler building and typical Manhattan apartments. I watched a bit of telly, catching some new Law and Order, which I thought was delightfully appropriate.

My hotel was mid town, not too far from Grand Central Station, which lived up to its reputation as something pretty special. On Day One I walked to it and went inside. It is a photogenic type of place, especially when shooting in black and white, and I was mucking about with trying to get the movement of the people rushing about getting to work, or maybe other places. I'm pretty happy with this shot. I didn't hang about though, but made a mental note of next time making sure I would catch a train from this amazingly cool place.

It was a sunny, crisply cold morning so I decided to do the outdoors stuff: Central Park, Empire State Building, and maybe get down to Battery Park. 

As a long-time Beatles and John Lennon fan, of course Strawberry Fields was a must. Since Central Park is HUGE, I headed to the west side and walked north. I was surprised that the mosaic with the word "imagine" was pretty much it. The park benches around all had little plaques, but not all of them had anything to do with John. There was an understated one from the people of Liverpool to the people of Manhattan following 11 September 2001... 

I played with my new zoom lens and got some nice close-up shots of various animals busy in the park. The snow everywhere made things very peaceful and quiet, even though there were quite a few people about. I really liked the part they've dedicated to nature and I bet in summer when the trees are in full leaf it would be teaming with life. It was mostly sparrows and squirrels, with a few ducks, gulls and geese. I easily could have spent all day there, but three days to get a feel for one of the most amazing cities on this planet... time meant I had to move.

I headed south on one of the avenues and paid over the dosh for the still spectacular views of Manhattan afforded by the Empire State Building. It was a shame that the sunny crispness I'd enjoyed at Central Park in the morning had started to haze over a bit. I was very impressed by the way they are geared up for massive crowds (which they must get outside of winter!) but happy to adapt to quiet days like the day I went. Less impressed by the pressure to have your photo taken, but actually here they were pleasant about it unlike at the wharf waiting for the Alcatraz ferry in San Francisco. It was here at the Empire State that I think I worked something out about New Yorkers - if you make the opening gambit, they seem quite happy to have a chat, if they're not pressured by other things. At least, that was my experience. I just said thanks to a lift attendant as I was leaving (a woman who must have been having a very boring time of it) and we then engaged in a bit of a conversation while waiting for the lift to turn up. She told me it was her birthday and what her plans were to celebrate. 

Ground Zero

After grabbing a hot dog with the works from a street vendor, like, you know, you have to, I kept heading south to Ground Zero. I must say that was with a strange feeling. I certainly remember where I was on 11 September 2001; in my lifetime it is one of those awful dates. And, I have to say it, not just because of what happened in New York, Washington DC and Virginia (but that's not for here). I didn't know anyone who died there in Lower Manhattan back then, but I do know people who were there that morning in the basement of the towers and but for luck or whatever you want to call it had left within the hour before the first plane struck. Part of me didn't want to go to see it; but another part wanted to in order to just quietly pay respects. Part of me was resisting in case the place was commemorated in some awful, mawkish way. But, it isn't. In fact, if you didn't know any better you would think it was just a construction site. It was humbling overhearing someone showing a friend the site and describing that day. Just someone random. Just quietly stating the facts, like I guess you just have to. On my last day I went along to the New York Police Department museum (a bit further south and on the eastern side) where they have a small section on the top floor dedicated to the day. Again, it surprised me in a way as to how sensitive it was. Not at all over-the-top and thus robbing people of their dignity. And I noticed the fire trucks down that way had the names of colleagues who died in the rescue attempts; not ostentatiously, just respectfully. 

To go into the bustle of New York's China Town was a good way to get into a completely different head space. I'm always amazed that even in relatively compact cities like Manhattan the changes in neighbourhoods when you just cross a road. I grabbed dinner down there before walking north and back to the hotel for a relatively early night.

The rain and sleet promised by the excitable weather guys on the TV actually eventuated, but I was lucky in that it didn't really start to dump down until after I got to the Natural History Museum (near Central Park). I walked there via Times Square, which surprised me in how small it was relative to how I'd always imagined it. But it was bright, and the lights and ads and TV shows an assault on the senses. And that's early in the morning! I spent much of the day at the museum, along with half the NYPD it seemed, who were there en mass in their dress uniforms and medals with their families. The museum itself reminded me of the NSW Museum and the Horniman in south east London - all of a similar ilk. Built during a particular time and for a particular reason, and now having to change to cater for new audiences with different needs. It was full of dioramas of American animals over the millennia, an interesting collection from controversial anthropologist Margaret Mead, and bones. Lots and lots of bones. Dinosaur bones. Great stuff. I loved the one in the entrance hall, and mucked about with a new lens.

After grabbing a pretzel from a street vendor for lunch, I headed to Little Italy down Broadway this time. I had one of those infamously huge American portions of bloody good Spaghetti Bolognaise from an Italian restaurant serving since 1903. A haunt of Frank Sinatra, so the waiter told me. Excellent food, and very pleasant red wine, too. Little Italy is now in danger of becoming Microscopic Italy as China Town encroaches, but maybe the weird fascination people have with the fictional versions of the mafia muddled up with a romanticised memory of the real mafia who operated there will keep some of it alive. Rather than walk the 60 or so blocks north on very tired feet I wanted to try the subway but was thwarted by the way the system works. Instead, a bus. I had the right money, but unlike San Francisco, in New York it's coins only, sister! I was a quarter short, but the driver - oh, what a wonderful stereotype she was - told me to just sit down and muttered something about industrial action against the public transport systems in New York. She was delightfully rude with everyone, but in such a way I found it impossible to take offence at her. 

All too soon, my last day dawned. Bagel and coffee breakfast from a different cafe (I'd been trying out different ones each day, and going for different American options each time), and trying to work out the best plan of campaign for a rain-free but cloudy and cold day. I went over to Greenwich Village and the fashion district (fascinating, and I'm not into that stuff at all). It's like being on a different island. I also popped into a giant camera warehouse thing and got a good second hand bag, and a few other odds and ends for my camera.

I also got down to Battery Park through various road and other works around the financial district. Using the zoom, I got a few great shots of the Statue of Liberty, but decided against catching the ferry across. The viewing deck was closed, so for another time. There were some guys practicing some hip hop dancing, and a few tidal waves of tourists. Otherwise, very quiet and a place where you could lose yourself if you wanted to just sit and stare out at the water. I went to the NYPD museum and realised that this holiday I'd been to where Al Capone had effectively ended his criminal life (Alcatraz, although he didn't die there but had been released because of his syphilis) and now where he'd started out as such a violent thug the "mafia" told him to bugger off to Chicago. I also saw the court house familiar to anyone who watches Law and Order, and other New York cop shows I just adore. I walked along Wall Street for a little while, diving into the maze of little streets down there that unlike the rest of Manhattan isn't an easy-to-navigate grid.

Dinner in a funky little fusion place on 4th Avenue, and back to the hotel to pack and watch two new Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. Both good episodes, as they turned out, and I had that extra little thing of actually now having a clue about some of the neighbourhoods on Manhattan where the action took place. Even a few places I now recognised. I had an early start on the Friday morning, and the woman at the hotel did one of those brilliant flagging-down-of-a-cab routines, and my trip back to JFK was as uneventful as my arriving. The security on leaving the USA was nothing on Heathrow, and JFK is a sparse place for departures (at least the terminal I was at was). Still, the flight was almost empty (bliss) and beautifully on time. Thank you, British Airways.

I knew I would like New York, and I do. So much to do, and my three days was a taster only. Thankfully I live in a city where it's not too far away and not too expensive to get to. I will be back for sure!

Tripping About in California

I made my first trip to mainland USA in February 2010, and I went pretty much from LA to New York, as in the song my favourite drag queens in Sydney used to lip-sync.


First stop, San Francisco. Wednesday, 17 February 2010.

Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, shrouded in fog 

I grew up on TV shows like the Streets of San Francisco with Jack Klugman in a mac and a very young Michael Douglas chasing crooks up and down the amazing mountainous streets in ludicrously large cars, dodging the fabulous street trolleys. When I was discovering my own sexual orientation I devoured Armistad Maupin’s Tales of the City series – the City being San Francisco, of course. 

Immediately at the airport, decades of stereotypes were thrown out. The staff were courteous, polite and efficient. They were friendly without being obsequious or cloyingly fake. I got my train – called BART – to the central shopping district. It cost USD 8 for about a half hour ride. BART was grey, and a bit worn, but serviceable. I was amused by the driver singing the name of each stop. Immediately spat out of the underground station I took a while to get my bearings. A chap came up to me and offered to help find me lodgings (it comes with the territory when you use a back pack), and when I told him I was only looking for the street where my hotel was, he cheerfully told me. I had no problems giving him some change for his trouble. Politest beggar I’ve ever engaged with. There were a lot of beggars about. I’m guessing the effects of the economic recession.

Hotel dealt with. Bags dumped. Quick shower and change of clothing to go out into the sun! Yes. Sun. It wasn’t hot, but very pleasant. I didn’t have too many hours of daylight so I basically just wandered about getting my land legs back around the shopping area. I had dinner in a Chinese place nearby, and crashed.

Where Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio married

Day Two: fog. San Francisco is prone to them, and this one was a good un as you can sense from the pictures I took. I walked Powell Street all the way up then down to Fisherman’s Wharf. On my approach through the outskirts of China Town (where the cable and street car signs are in Chinese) I could hear the fog horns and bark of sea lions coming from the great whiteness below me. I followed the barking to Wharf 39 to see the colony that rocked up after the 1989 earth quake and haven’t left. 

I jumped on a tour in a bus made to look a bit like a tram. Our guide, the driver, was a funny guy who obviously loved San Francisco. We got chatting a bit and he kept telling me to go to Sausilito, just across the Golden Gate Bridge (which we couldn’t see at all when we got to the look out). The tour was the type of thing you can expect – a few fun facts, and a good way to get to know the layout of where you are. I was impressed by the way the Castro and Harvey Milk were talked about in the same breath as the “painted ladies” (a group of colourfully painted “Victorian” houses) and various action-adventure movies shot around the city. 

Clam chowder

After staying on the tour until we got back to Fisherman’s Wharf I grabbed a lunch of clam chowder (fantastic stuff) and then jumped on a converted fishing boat to do a quick tour of the Bay. The fog was starting to lift a bit so I could get some shots of the bridge, and actually see Alcatraz. I walked back to the hotel, stopping off for a coffee in a non-chain café in the Italian area and then meandering through China Town. Apparently, San Francisco’s China Town is now bigger than New York’s. (New York doesn’t agree with that observation.)

Day Three: grey skies, but no fog. I jumped on a 1938 Philadelphia tram carriage to Castro Street. San Francisco has managed to obtain a number of historic tram carriages from around the USA and the world. I never got to ride on a Melbourne tram, but I did see it trundling around in the distance. The normal fare is USD 2 per trip. The famous San Franciscan cable cars that go up and down the hills are more expensive than that, and are mostly a tourist thing now although regular people also use them. I rode one later in the day: fantastic! Anyway, even though it was early during the day and not many people were about, I’d rate the Castro as the gayest area I’ve ever experienced anywhere. Rainbow flags everywhere. 

I caught a 1950s Kansas tram back to the wharves for lunch of clam chowder in a locally made sour dough bread bowl, washed down by some Napa Valley white wine. I meandered about the World War 2 vintage ships and boats, having a chat with a chap who knows England very well because he’s an ocean liner fan. Takes all types. 

Alcatraz... on the inside

Day Four: Alcatraz. Modern ferry, modern ferry lines, old prison. Interesting place, but I never got any sense of it as a place of foreboding. The place is shrouded in myths and – rightly – the place tries to counter almost every one. E.g. the “bird man of Alcatraz” never kept his birds on this island. That was another prison. I did the audio tour on the recommendation of friends who visited last year, and I pass on that recommendation. I was amazed the tour came in Dutch, as well as the usual raft of languages, and I was tempted to use that one. I stuck with the original American English of both the guards and prisoners. 

Day Five: Joined by a friend, we headed north, via the Golden Gate Bridge. We bypassed Sausilito, resisting the temptation to pop in. Instead, we went along the coast, winding our way up and down the hills. We stopped at a couple of cliff tops along the way. Technically whale-watching season, but the rain and clouds made it impossible. We did see some Elephant Seals on the beaches below. We then headed eastwards to Sonoma Valley, finding our hotel fairly easily.

Day Six: We had previously booked some bicycles for a wine tasting tour of Sonoma. We were greeted first by an incredible fog, but that burned off by the time we got on our way to our first winery. Cline's. We tasted a few, liking an unusual Rose, and a spicy Zinfandel. We decided to work our way through the other wineries on our list and come back later. Next stop was Cline's sister winery, which looked flashier. There we tasted some olive oils, and their wines. Not as nice as the first lot. Cline was originally French style grapes, and the other one was Italian. Normally I prefer Italian wines, but in this case the French won out. Afterwards we headed to a winery that specialised in sparkling wines. We had lunch there, enjoying the sun and view, and two rather good examples. We did two more wineries, buying a pretty decent port and light sparkling dessert wine from one, and then headed back to Cline to buy four bottles, two of the rose.

Red wood trees

Day Seven: Back through San Francisco early and down south on the Pacific Highway route. Our first real stop was a red wood forest detour. Amazing trees, and these weren't the tallest or oldest examples. Unfortunately, it was raining a fair bit, which meant we couldn't go for better hikes. We kept heading south through some awesome scenery, stopping at a place in the Big Sur area of state parks.

Day Eight: After a good breakfast, we set off further south. The weather didn't let up, unfortunately, so we went into LA to get to our hotel near the airport. It was surreal driving along the huge roads in rain and mist thrown up by the other cars, buses and trucks and seeing the grey silhouettes of the palm trees. We stopped off at a Korean cafe to grab some teriyaki beef, which was fantastic stuff.

Day Nine: The Getty Center. What an amazing place, up on the hills with a fantastic view of the sprawl that is LA (but, no, not Hollywood). The Center itself is an art gallery, essentially, but fantastically designed so that it's light and airy, and you don't really notice the hundreds (thousands?) of other visitors. I enjoyed the photography exhibitions, and also both the permanent exhibition of Dutch Masters and a special exhibition of Ruebens' sketches. Friends and I spent the whole day there, and it's easily a place to just chill and enjoy.

The Akropolis

Parthenon at night, from Plaka

The first human settlement on the rock over what is now Athens has been dated to about 5,000 years ago, but the building works that makes the place famous was started by Perikles in the 5th century BCE. The most famous, iconic building on the hill is the Parthenon. It's an extraordinary monument.

There is, of course, so much written about these monuments. I'm not going to replicate all that here.



I spent about five days and nights in May 2009 under its spell. The hotel room I was staying in had the view here. I could see it just about everywhere I walked throughout the Plaka and Monastiraki areas of Athens. It does disappear behind the buildings that hug the streets, but usually it's there, reassuringly, like it has been for millennia.

The Parthenon

I have looked at the marbles in the British Museum that once adorned the Parthenon. I'm familiar with some of the arguments on both sides about whether Britain should continue to keep them, or return them. When I was in Athens the museum dedicated to the Akropolis was meant to be open (it was meant to have been opened years previously; in May 2009, there were advertisements at Athens airport saying it was open), but the gates remained steadfastly padlocked and I could see hanging electrical cables where the lights ought to be. I believe it now actually is open. I would like to return to Greece, and Athens, and to see the museum.




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