Tag: englishman in new york

Another Friday Night

I’m still recovering today from another usual Friday night in New York: Get home, go for a run, play Dance Dance Revolution, go out clubbing, get in a fight, win the fight, dance to a Smiths cover band. I’ve since been told that winning the fight cancelled out the high ‘gay’ quotient of playing Dance Dance Revolution. So that all worked out for the best.

Decisions, Decisions

The other day mentioned how much I like New York for it’s generally sunny weather, even when it’s cold – and today is no exception. Bright, clear and chilly. Today’s New York experience is all about the trouble with choices. New York is full of them. Everywhere you turn there’s another choice:

“Do I take go east one block and downtown one or will it the lights be in my favour if I go downtown one block then east one?”

“Should I start a Web 2.0 company for no pay in the hope of millions down the road and a sense of self-accomplishment, or get paid enough money to live in this city?”

“Should I get this cab that just swerved dangerously in front of the other one to get my fare, or the other guy who looks like he’s wearing coke bottles for glasses hunched over his wheel?”

And the worst of them all: “So what do you feel like eating? I feel like sushi.” which then inevitably leads to a full description of what every person in the group has eaten for the last three days, so they couldn’t have that – well, maybe they could, until eventually you end up in the restaurant next to you.

Today was a food choice day – luckily the group only consisted of me. I was sitting in the office for a good 15 minutes as I mulled over which of the 200+ lunch places to eat from on my block alone. Then i plumped for soap from Hale & Hearty. So I wandered over there and spent another ten or so minutes in contemplation of their near thirty soups before I made my choice. Chicken and corn chowder if you want to know. Then, of course, I got to the checkout and realised I’d forgotten my Hale & Hearty regular soup swiller card, so I now have another of those to add to the collection all with just one of the ten necessary stamps.

Note to self: New web 2.0 idea. Let people pool their ‘regular soup’ cards to get one soup to share between them.

Two hours later and I’m hungry again. Still, there’s plenty to choose from for snacks round here…

Today’s “New York Experience” comes to you courtesy of the great people at Halal Chicken on 54th & Madison. Spicy chicken – your way. As long as you want it fried and with rice. Mmm mmm – them’s good eatin’! (TM)

Brrr.

The cold snap seems to have hit New York – it’s -7c today, nothing compared to the -27c in Montreal the other day but still cold enough to make my eyeballs feel stiff. I hate that feeling! The other night popped into Royal Oak for a brief bit of dancing. On the way in it was cold and clear, an hour later when we left there was 1/2 inch of snow on the ground and the snow was so thick you could hardly see. Then it stopped. Fun.

It’s at this time of year I’m reminded of another aspect of New York that I love so much. How bright and sunny it is most of the time. Even though it’s freezing cold outside the sun is in the sky and there’s hardly any cloud. Very different from the average English grey day, which was all there seemed to be during my trip back home over Christmas.

Time to deploy the Christmas scarves and brave the day…

Festive Dear

Good news for those of us in the US and buying presents for loved ones in the UK! The British Customs folks have issues a festive christmas warning not to bring too much back from New York with you as the dollar rapidly approaches two to the pound. Sign. Guess everyone’s getting hand knitted mittens from me this year – just let me know what colour you want.

In all honesty I’m pretty darn frustrated about this turn of events. I love my family and, especially with all the little ones, that amounts to a whole pile o’ presents. So what am I supposed to do? Going online and buying from Amazon.co.uk would be the usual, but then I’m getting slammed by the weak dollar. So my usual gift advantage of being in the land of the cheap product, where my dollars can actually afford someting, is being compromised by opportunistic shoppers. Sigh. I’ll probably just end up doing the usual and wandering through customs hoping they don’t stop me like every year – normally achieved very successfully by looking incredibly tired and grumpy after a sleepless overnight flight. They never see through that cunning surprise…

Hold Music DJ*

It’s a funny old thing being a Brit in New York sometimes – if just for the way in which you tend to get the same reaction from different groups of people about your accent.

Whenever you call up to a U.S. service center, most of which are hosted in the mid-west, you are invariably asked if you’re Australian. On replying that you are British you will then spend the next five minutes either hearing about the call center person’s last 5 day trip to London, or how they so want to go there. With the increasing number of call centers being hosted in India this conversation is however becoming an endangered species.

What’s more interesting is when you talk with another ex-pat. At first you’ll recognise the traditional mid-Atlantic accent. Traditional Anglicisms sprinkled with ‘like’ and ‘whatever’, normally set into a base of BBC World style pronunciation. As soon as the conversationalist recognises a fellow Brit the accent swings into full localized English – as with last night and one of the SVA professors who was from Huddersfield. One moment it was all “jolly good” and “smashing” the next it was “by ‘eck you don’t want to be talkin’ like this t’locals”. It is at this point I become rapidly aware that I’m a southerner (or ‘southern wanker’ in more traditional northern English speak).

The next step in the ex-pat conversational exchange is, of course, football – that’s “soccer” to any Americans reading. What team you support, how they’re doing in the league (or not) and recent transfers come flooding out un-solicited. As someone who enjoys playing football but isn’t fanatical about supporting a team this can all get quite tricky quite quickly. Politely navigating an exchange without riling up inter-team rivalries is practically impossible, especially when you’re not even sure whether the teams are in the same league.

Having said all that it’s great to hear a proper Brit accent every now and again. This is most apparent whenever I call back to some phone service in the UK. My favorite is First Direct, who have call centers in both Leeds and Scotland so you get a great range of Northern accents. Invariably on a quick call to find out my account balance I end up in a long conversation about the weather, how their new year’s eve (or other recent special day) went and where the best places are to shop in New York. Nice one guv’nor.

* The ‘Hold Music DJ’ is an original concept owned and conceived by Nicole Barth(TM), all rights reserved and then some.

Mmm, chewy

Well my first batch of mince pies taught me to roll the pastry a lot thinner! I also need to go shopping for a proper baking tray for them rather than trying to get a cheapo aluminium (pronounced ‘alum-in-um’ over here of course) muffin trays to work. Nowhere near as nice as the ones from Myers of Keswick but they contain a lot more love, and of course grubby fingerprints.

I’ve also discovered that I now have enough airmiles from Virgin to fly to Hong Kong and back, or South America. Wow. I found that out while I was trying to book a flight back for Christmas. As I watched Orbitz and Expedia the flights got progressively more expensive. ‘Tis the season to be flying to the UK apparently. I was also faced with the quandry that if I follow through with my current plans of travelling come February I only have a few short months left in New York. This means I wanted to try and spend the minimum amount of time back in the UK and consequently I’m not staying there for New Years. Unless I change my mind of course… I normally do. Or do I?

Green and Pleasent Lands

An interesting article in BBC online today, discussing what it actual means to be British. For me at the moment it means trying to work out how to make mince pies without forking out $5 for a jar of mincemeat from Myers of Keswick, or buying their individual mince pies at $1.50 a pop (even if they are infinitely superior to Tea and Sympathy’s similarly priced offering). It transpires from a quick search of the web that mincemeat takes at least two weeks to ferment, plus it also requires suet – another Brit-only ingredient that I would have to buy from Myers of Keswick anyway. Maybe next year I’ll get my act together in time to do that!

So what else defines ‘Britishness’ to me? Sense of humour or self-deprecation. TV without adverts. Old children’s shows like the Flumps and Bagpuss. Windy, over-crowded roads that everyone drives along like they’re at the Grand Prix. Rugby. Marmite and all the other types of jams and preserves we thrive on. Fish and chips, and not the soggy, soft shite they do at Salt and Battery here in New York – but cheap, solid white fillet and big chips just about less than solid in the middle. Appreciation of a well thought out and fair queuing system. Cheering for the underdog, or Richard Branson even if he is actually quite successful, but only because he’s had his fair share of dramatic fuck ups. Cheeky chaps like Robbie Williams, and darker ones like Michael Caine. Celtic roots. Hiking wonderful green hills and mountains with dark forbidding clouds constantly gathering ahead of you. The Queen mum, but mostly for her love of horse racing and being a right old character. Formulaic ‘old style’ pubs and the wonderful feeling you get just after actually finding a proper old pub but before you get stared down by the locals.

That’ll do for starters anyway.

Leisure

Ah, my first day of ‘freedom’ in five years or so. So many things to enjoy in New York and so much time to relax and get my life in order. First step remembering that I don’t need to wake up at 7.30 to get to work… D’oh! Still, this meant I had a good couple of hours down the gym this morning and my bathroom is a LOT cleaner already. Thanks to everyone for the outpouring of support. A great side effect of being laid off is the excuse of getting back in touch with everyone. Luverley.

Ready, aim, post mail…

Apparently this week we’re all terrorist target #1 (again). So what’s the guess? Sarin gas attack on the subway (I was attacked by a stink bomb late last week and that freaked me out)? Plane into building (I’m now around most of the remaining tall buildings in NYC, but it’s so last month)? Anthrax in my e-mail (that would definitely get me)? Poison in the water (I only generally drink G&T but it could get in the ice)? Wiring N-sync to blow whenever they do a corny dance move (now that is terror)?

In amongst all of this madness I’ve found increasing solace in the calming words of my cab drivers as they ferry me back to Williamsburg. Last night’s philosopher was from French speaking Ghana. Some guy cut him up and I commented “Ils sont foux” and from then on we didn’t stop chatting. Turns out he used to teach Physics back in Ghana but earns more in New York driving cabs. We discoursed on whether French or German were better languages, during which time I find out his elder sister lives in Hamburg and his younger sister in Toulouse. He heartily recommended that I go visit Africa, where, as he put it, the people are so friendly they will take you up a mountain if you ask. Something to combat the general psychic malaise that can prevail in New York. Nice guy.