Reasons why I am a cynic #12

#12

Never trust a company that produces a Universal RV Flag Kit with only one type of flag on offer. It's not really universal is it?

Reasons why I am a cynic #48

#48
Never dine in a restaurant that calls itself Snacky's. I don't care if they are in Little Italy or not.

Reasons why I am a cynic #274

#274

I do not trust any company that makes life preservers when that company is based in a land locked state.

6 days in the city of blinding lights: Day 6

Day 6 -

Aside from my failed return trip to Harlem (see Day 5), I have two things to accomplish today.

The main one being to tackle Central Park. Now I say tackle but you could spend a few days alone in this place and still leave wanting more.

Knowing this from the outset I decide to at least walk its length (59th St to 110th St) and see what I see along the way taking different paths as the mood took me.

It truly is a class leveller and the best gift a city can ever give to its citizens. The place is just as busy as midtown but in place of skyscrapers are endless trees and old bridges.

There are bridle trails, designated running and cycle tracks and numerous baseball fields dotted about the thick foliage and waterways.

In the middle is the great lawn that has seen memorable concerts. On this stunning Saturday all that can be seen are New Yorkers sunbathing and shonky ice cream vendors making a small fortune.

Nearby are a set of Basketball courts where you can witness grown men acting like petulant children as they argue the toss over a foul. They had me entertained for a fair while with their bravado and their ability to 'draw a foul' from seemingly nowhere.

Having completed the length of the park, I treat myself to a short subway trip back to 81st St and visit the American Museum of Natural History. I knew this was a doomed visit when the queue to get in took forever.

I never cared a great deal for Science and Natural History in High School and I could see why. I was bored after an hour and was now questioning my decision to come here in the first place. It was either this or the Metropolitan Museum of Art and I could see those smug bastards across the park on the Upper East Side telling me I told you so.

Early evening I finally take the Staten Island Ferry (something I was going to do on my first day but I ran out of time) and am glad to see a borough other than Manhattan.

Staten Island seems a little more relaxed, given its seaside nature. I find a nice down home bar that has a half open aired section that reminds me of a Mexican Cantina. The Pale Ale goes down a treat as the sun sets on the day and my New York trip.

Next stop will be the Johnson Lakehouse Resort in Arkansas and my week in the South. Blues, Country, Elvis and cookouts.

Bring it on!

6 days in the city of blinding lights: Day 5

Day 5 -

So I accomplish a few things today but I will only focus on my trip to Harlem. This tale is about how a white guy who is clearly out of his depth can miss a tour of the Apollo Theatre (a tour he has already paid for mind) because he decides to alter with his own schedule. Please note that no one should take pity on the subject in question. It is his own fault.

So my aim is to make the 1pm tour of the historic Apollo Theatre. It is one of my must do sites on my trip and I am busting to check out the place where every great Soul artist worth a damn has plied their trade.

It is currently a little after midday and I am still in Midtown and busting to take a leak. I am also a little peckish but this is my secondary concern. I decide to try the old 'kill 2 birds' routine by going into a diner, order lunch and use the restroom.

The diner I pick isn't the cheapest (you win some, you blah blah some) but it does have a restroom and my bladder is thanking me, especially after ordering the Pepsi and the waiter offering to bring me tap water as well.

Ordered and relieved, I wait the longest time humanly possible to receive my Chunky Chicken Salad Sandwich. My 1pm tour is starting to look a little pear-shaped as the chefs in the back work their magic on the Chunky Chicken behemoth.

Smart move McPhee, real slick.

No matter as there is a 3pm tour as well. The sandwich finally arrives (I foolishly expect its entrance to be accompanied by the heralding of trumpets) and it is so huge I half expect that it needs its own building permit.

Lunch done with, I faff about for a bit and get in to Harlem at about 2:15. I hop off at 125th street and take in the surrounds of Harlem. It is everything I expected and nothing that I was hoping for. The island certainly changes North of Central Park that you assume you have landed in another city.

I walk the streets looking as conspicuous as a man on Viagra in a nudist colony. Considering every two bit street hustler is selling 'Genuine' Michael Jackson merchandise (who was whiter than my pale ass) this is the text book definition of absurdity.

I locate the Apollo and purchase my ticket for the 3pm tour. The lady behind the counter tells me to sing my lungs out when I go on stage. I am about to tell her of my drunken night when I ruined the Billy Joel songbook in a Karaoke Bar in Melbourne but think better of it.

With just over 40 minutes to kill and a face that hasn't met a razor in well over a week I decide to head to a Barbershop to get cleaned up. I spot one that looks exactly like a textbook Harlem Barbershop and I enter.

Imagine the deathly silence you hear in Westerns when the stranger enters the Saloon. That is me walking into the Barbershop.

Now there are about ten people in this narrow shop, a shop whose Air Conditioner is leaking from the inside and has lawsuit written all over its slip and slide linoleum. Now there are 2 barbers and 2 people sitting in the chairs (though there is an empty third chair and barber) so it has got me stumped what the other people are there for. Other customers perhaps? Half of them were a few weeks away from a cut and the rest were bald and clean shaven that their appearance in a Barbershop was suspect at best.

One guy in particular (I made him for a shifty Uncle) was in an all grey track gear outfit and taking generous pulls of his Malt Liquor bottle which for some reason was covered up in a plastic bag (as if anyone would mistake it for a Gatorade bottle).

I'm sitting on the bench awaiting my turn but the barbers seem to be in no such hurry, nor their customers for that matter (bar Opie over here). I wonder if they are in cahoots with the diner downtown but the delay here in Harlem is due to endless cell phone calls and a parade of characters walking in off the street to chat and then depart. I want to point out that this is a work day and why aren't these people at their place of employment but my travel insurance isn't fully comprehensive and I am still a season away from finding out what happens on 'Lost' so I let that one go.

Instead I wait patiently as once more the minutes tick away. At 2:45 and no end in sight I go to make my excuses and leave, promising that I will come back after the tour of the Apollo.

As I get up, one of the barbers points to me and says that I am up next. I want to tell him I no longer have the time but his demeanor suggests that I sit in the chair quick smart.

I am in no position to make any other suggestions.

I meekly sit down while my cut man appraises my scruffy condition. He asks if I would like to shape it into a goatee.

I am in no position to make any other suggestions.

The guy works meticulously, doing a helluva job. But he is going past 3 o'clock and it looks like I will miss the start of the tour. I want to tell him I am on a time limit but he is too busy either chatting/performing secret handshakes to new customers/drop-ins or talking on the phone to someone named Patrice who is looking for J.J. (the missing third barber).

Finally done and dusted by 3:10, I hightail it to the Apollo to try and catch up to the tour guide but alas when I get there the doors are shut.

I start cursing but frankly I look like an idiot. Defeated yet goateed I skulk my way back to the hotel hoping that I can exchange my ticket for a new one tomorrow.

Postscript: I return the next day getting a feeling of de ja vu as the doors to the Apollo are closed once more. How can this be? I am a quarter of an hour early for the 11am tour so I ask the security guard what gives. He tells me there is no 11am tour on a Saturday. I somewhat foolishly ask about the 1pm tour. It is at this juncture that he informs me there are no tours on a Saturday. I begin to point out that my Lonely Planet guide begs to differ however...

...I am in no position to make any other suggestions.

6 days in the city of blinding lights: Day 3 & 4

Day 3 -

There are a few places every person should visit, only if to watch the colourful cast of characters walk by. The steps of Flinders Street Station is one and Picadilly Circus is another. Add to that Times Square. Come to think of it, the Irish chavs in the Temple Bar district in Dublin are worth a few minutes of your time as well.

Times Square can fascinate one for hours without having to spend a dime. Flashing billboards and giant candy stores makes this an ADHD kids dream. After wandering around for a bit with my head aimed at the sky I head on up to the Ed Sullivan Theatre to try and get tickets to Letterman. It is booked out a few months in advance but they hold aside a small number of tickets to give away in a lottery system. I put myself down for tonight and tomorrow bur sadly I won't be one of the lucky recipients.

I go for a late morning coffee in Bryant Park and come across a free ping pong tournament. The line is long, full of men in business suits waiting to live out their boyhood dreams. Instead I watch, trying to finish this book I have been reading since the start ofthe trip.

Side note: most of you will know I usually go through books like Pamela Anderson goes through husbands but with this author it is best to take your time. Michael Chabon is a brilliant writer and his books are so descriptive that it is a shame to speed through them.

I am to take 2 trips to the top of buildings on this leg of my trip, the Empire State Building and right now here at the Top Of The Rock at the Rockefeller Centre. There is so much radio and television history in this building where NBC has called its home for decades. The view is spectacular, particularly North across the vista that is Central Park.

Next stop is the International Centre of Photography where I was hoping to see work of the world's best photographers. What I wasn't prepared for was the entire centre taken up by an exhibition of fashion photography. No matter as the exhibition had some great layouts from Paris in the 1950s and 60s for magazines like Harpers Bazzar.

What was disappointing was the Museum Of Modern Art (MoMa). To be kind I was comparing it to the Tate Modern in London which is one of a kind. The good news was that they offered wifi audio tours which meant I could use my iPhone and not have to carry around a bulky audio guide. Sadly the wifi dropped out afterthe fourth floor. By which time my interest had waned considerably anyway.

Nearby was the NBA flagship store which was an event in itself. The store is massive and has nearly everything one could want in the world of Basketball merchandise. I say nearly as quite a lot of stuff they only stock the big 8 or so teams which means mugs like me who follow teams in far flung places like Utah have a limited choice. Undeterred, I picked up a T-shirt for me (go Jazz!) and a Kobe Bryant shirt for my brother.

Just for kicks I strolled down 9th Ave (Hell's Kitchen) during rush hour to see the chaos on the roads. I wasn't disappointed. I finished my day off by double backing through Times Square and on to Grand Central Station to watch the world go by and have a meal in a Mexican Joint in the dining concourse.

Day 4 -

Today was all about walking. I walked until the blisters got unbearable (stopped into a Duane Reade to get some band aids for a quick running repair) then walked some more.

Knowing I only had a short amount of time here I wanted to ensure I saw as much of this city as possible. As it is I will miss out on some things on my list like Brooklyn and the Bronx Zoo but that's the way it goes.

I had a rough idea on my route and places to visit but I went mainly on instinct, trying not to use the map like I was sitting an open book exam.

I kicked things off in Greenwich Village, making a bee line for the musty record stores (I am a creature of habit) before venturing due East towards Washington Square. The park (like most parks here on Manhattan) are a hive of activity ensuring that after more than 200 years, little has changed. In one corner of the park are old gents setting up chess pieces ready to hustle the locals or the naive tourist.

It has been far too long since I played chess and I am annoyed with myself that I never continued learning. My chess set is one of the few things I still own from my childhood, unlike my karate uniform or my guitar which now reside in my cupboard of no return.

Crossing Broadway I make my way to the Chinatown and Little Italy district looking for the tiny museum of Cartoon and Comic Book art. I fail to read the fine print of my Lonely Planet guide and the place is closed on Thursdays (I am a man after all). I end up going the next day and I wish my good mate Chad Bosworth and another friend David Affran were here enjoying it as much as me.

It surprises me how much Chinatown has overtaken the area once known as Little Italy. It isn't a racist thing I understand these things happen over time. Chinatown is a hive of activity and the smell of Green Grocers whilst Little Italy (reduced to Mulbery Street only for the most part) is a little more contemplative and resigned to it's end days. Despite this I stop here for lunch, a nice Calzone that can only bring back memories of Costanza and Steinbrenner.

A brief respite in my journey, I hop on a train uptown (a few stops) to Union Square on 14th St to recommence my sojourn. The rest of my walk would see me go from 14th St to 53rd St, taking in the kids puppet show in Union Square, a peek inside the private Gramercy Park, the iconic Flatiron Building, young tykes being taught Chess by the elderly in Madison Square Park, the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building.

My journey ended at the Museum of Radio and Television which is more like a big lounge room. By that stage I was in need of a rest and to put my feet up. The have a number of Theatres showing rare television events that change daily. I saw a collection of the best Superbowl Ads in one and caught a bit of the 11 hour all star 'Conspiracy of Hope' concert that hadn't been aired since it first ran back in the late 80s. Peter Gabriel, U2 and co being as earnest as all get out.

There is also a section where you can choose 2 programs from a vast library for you to watch in your own viewing booth. The search engine is in need of updating but I found an episode of a short loved program in the late 90s starring Jeremy Piven that has never made it to DVD which was great.

A good nights sleep tonight to rest my weary bones before I venture north of 110th St tomorrow.

6 days in the city of blinding lights: Day 1 & 2

There has been a great amount already written about New York by the world's great poets, writers, lyricists and screenwriters that a mere Aussie who likes to prattle on can barely add anything new or worthwile. The only thing I will say is that what these great artists have said before is all true. New York is a Bruce Springsteen and a Bob Dylan tune. It is an F Scott Fitzgerald novel and a Woody Allen film. It is West Side Story minus the spontaneous bursting out in song (the weirdos that hang around the Port Authority Bus Terminal are the exception).

Day 1 -
I decide to take the train down from Boston because the approach into NYC would give me more of a view of the city than a plane. Besides I would be leaving by air so this way I would get the best of both.

I arrive at Penn Station and wonder where the hell Amtrak have dumped me. The place is teeming with life and noise that I can see how this city can overwhelm you. I get some sense of my bearings in this subterranean metropolis and head for the number 1 train uptown towards my hotel on Broadway and West 77th St on the Upper West Side (because that's how I roll).

Checked in (and upgraded) I head off in the late afternoon swelter to scope out the local 'hood. I make it to the fringe of Central Park when a summer storm hits hard. Wearing my havianas I run and squelch my way back to the hotel to dry off and grab a meal at a local Italian restaurant.

After dinner I spot a cafe nearby that has free wifi (not as common as I assumed) so that immediately becomes my morning and evening coffee joint.

Note: Although Americans and Canadians love their java, they don't produce great coffee. The best I have had so far (by a country mile) is Balzac's in Toronto.

Day 2 -
My plan is to break up my days here into geographical sections. That way I'm not travelling back and forth between different landmarks all the time. Do I have to see Central Park on my first full day? It isn't going anywhere, it can keep.

I head right to the bottom of the island and grab the ferry to Ellis Island. It stops off at Liberty Island first but as I can't go inside Lady Liberty (add low brow gag here) I skip it and get a decent photo from the ferry. Ellis Island was the point of call from the late 1800s to 1954 for immigrants who came to America looking for a better place to live.

After it closed it was left to decay until they began restoring it in the 1980s. A brilliantly laid out museum, Ellis Island is a visual document of immigration policy and the multicultural society of early 20th Century America.

Back on the Island I walk towards Wall Street and the Financial District hoping to stop off at the National Sports Museum along the way. However there is a sign on the door saying it closed down back in February. I read it only opened last September. The recession has hit this country hard.

Bad news turns to good as I walk past the defunct museum and discover the Fraunces Tavern. It is here that General Washington gave his farewell to his officers following the end of the American Revolution. It seems rude if I don't go in for a pint.

My next major stop is the WTC memorial museum, but along the way is the heavily guarded Stock Exchange (the latter is the result of the events of the former) and the grand Federal Hall where Washington was sworn in a President.

I didn't think that the memorial to the 9/11 attacks would affect me the way it would but by the end of it I found myself weeping. I had just viewed remnants of the towers and personal possessions found among the rubble and it became too much. I looked around and found to my comfort that I wasn't the only one in tears.

That night I went down to the East Village to see singer-songwriter Pete Yorn perform. Pete and band sounded great in the intimate Webster Hall playing songs culled mostly from his debut album (still his best).

My first full day in NYC and I think I packed a fair bit in.