Z = Zoo

I guess I've been putting off posting this one, the very last one. Z = zoo was completed on time but my reluctance to let go of 26 Weeks stopped me from writing up my final entry. Sounds silly I know, I've always been a little sentimental, it's just a little sad to know I've come to the end of the journey and what a journey it's been. Not only around this unbelievably amazing City I call home but also in proving to myself that I could actually do it. Each and every week. Hangovers, exhaustion, snow or rain couldn't stop the 26 Weeks mission and I would do it all over again.

So the final installment is Zoo, the Bronx Zoo in fact. We'd made it to every borough in NYC apart from the Bronx so it was fitting that this last one would round off our 360 tour. On a scorching hot day we made the journey all the way up and into the Zoo. It's a great zoo as far as zoos go, if I'd rented a kid for a day it would probably have been even better but as far as I know rent-a-kid doesn't exist yet in the City where you pretty much can get anything your heart desires and then some. Afterwards we walked over to Arthur Avenue, the supposed real "Little Italy" of New York. It's a small street but authentic, some mafioso types sitting around eating big bowls of spaghetti, great bread, meats and cheese shops. We stopped for a little bruschetta and raised a cold glass to 26 Weeks of pure adventure because that's really the only way to describe it.....a bloody brilliant adventure.

I hope you enjoyed reading it and I hope you were inspired to try out one or all of the letters yourself. Most of all thanks for all the support, feedback and tuning in each week.

Lastly, to Simon - my partner in crime, I couldn't have done it without you. You're my inspiration.

Y = Yelo

Napping is rare in the City that never sleeps but in New York where you can pay for anything your heart desires, it was no surprise to find out that you can pay to take a nap in Midtown (office workers central). Enabling you to continue burning yourself out working and playing in this ridiculously amazing place.

Yelo is a spa on West 57th Street that features five YeloCabs, special coccoon shaped pods that you can book for 15, 20 or 25 minute sessions to literally just take a nap. Yelo extolls the virtues napping has on your health and wellness and on a Friday evening after a busy week we thought what could be better than trying it out.

It's cheap as chips, only $15 for a 20 minute nap. Yes I know, we could just go home and lay down in bed for 20 minutes for free but I'm suckered into the idea of a womb-like experience to lull my tired mind into a calm blissful state ready for a fun, action-packed, New York weekend. You get to choose your music - I chose Zen, Si chose Medieval chants?! - and your aromatherapy scent - I chose Detox, Si chose Refresh - then you're taken into the YeloCab and you climb on to the YeloChair. It's a big wide squidgy chair that you lay down on, the nice lady covers you in the softest blanket I've ever felt and wraps your bare feet in a warmed towel, she then presses a button and you move backwards so you're laying flat but your legs are raised and pulled towards your chest, this is intended to help slow your heart rate. She leaves and the lights slowly go down until it's totally black.

It's incredibly calming and you can feel the stress leave your body as you do lots of deep sighing and yawning. I wish I could've dropped off but I was quite pumped up with the Friday feeling and thinking about what restaurant we should head to and whether I fancied a glass of white or red. I tried to focus on sleep knowing I only had 20 minutes to feel the benefits of my Yelo Nap but it didn't come, especially as I'd now moved on to the dreaded "lists" mapping out what I needed to sort out over the next few days on mental post-it notes. However, when the lights slowly starting to come on I did feel chilled and like I'd had a moment away from it all to relax and just get away. Si came out totally loving the experience, he'd been on about 10 flights in the last 3 weeks so he really napped, out straight away. Would I recommend it - yep! Definitely go if you're feeling stressed out or if you're jetlagged, you know that 3pm mad-cow syndrome that you get after catching the red-eye? Well this is definitely the solution, don't fight it just Yelo Nap it. $15 well spent!

Only in New York!

X = X.O

X was never going to be easy. Of course, the oh-so helpful suggestions were of course X-rated but kiss and tell is just not my style. So, we went to X.O a small, crazy, little bit dirty, restaurant in the heart of Chinatown with the idea to try Xtreme and Xtraordinary foods, and that we did.

Walking in it's chaotic, noisy and full of locals, a good sign. We grabbed a small table and perused the gigantic menu of choices, there was of course all the yummy usual things I'd liked to have ordered like boring old spring rolls and safe chicken satay but that wasn't the name of the game. So, we ordered the house speciality - snails - followed by jellyfish and white weird dough things I can't remember the name of as they literally expanded to huge thick vile tasting tennis balls in my mouth, so bad I've blocked them from my mind, and a little weird beef dish on the side. 

The snails were obscenely bad, teeny tiny ones that you had to pick out with a toothpick, they were hot, greasy, garlicky and not good, unfortunately our hosts were very generous and served us up a huge bowl of maybe 200 of the little critters with a huge excited grin on their faces. They proceeded to watch us eat them so eat them we had to, thank-you Si for once again coming to my aid and polisihing off most of them. You are a true prince.

Next up - jellyfish - a huge quivering plate full, not cooked, not really anything, just sliced up and coated in some sort of ginger type spice, it was cold, slimy and the texture was like old tyres. It took an incredibly long time to eat, you couldn't really chew it too much, the best thing to do was to just swallow it down with a swift glug of beer straight after. The beef wasn't too bad if you ignored the weird colors and tried not to imagine that it was old meat that had been festering away waiting for someone to order it.

After consuming as much as physically possible we decided X stood for swift X-it. We casually asked for our leftover food "to go" so we didn't appear rude to be leaving half of it, especially the jellyfish  and promptly left depositing said leftovers in a bin a few blocks away and heading to the nearest bar for a nice, safe and Xcellent glass of Rioja.

Chinatown in New York doesn't feel fake, it feels like you've been transported to China, the language, the smells, the food and the bustling streets are Xciting and well worth a visit, just avoid nasty sea creatures at all costs.

W = Williamsburg Walking Graffiti Tour

We headed out on a hot Saturday to tour the tons of amazing Graffiti in Williamsburg. We printed out this very helpful little guide http://offmanhattan.com/2008/12/08/a-self-guided-brooklyn-graffiti-tour/ and took ourselves around the neighbourhood to see some pretty impressive work. Quite a few I'd seen before while out and about in Williamsburg and on various websites, facebook posts etc but there were a lot I hadn't seen before, there were the very detailed ones and then the more mural old-school type affair on abandoned warehouse buildings.

On a Saturday afternoon, it's a fun thing to do, you get to mooch around all of Williamsburg and there's so many cool little bars and restaurants to pop into along the way that you can really make a day of it and for me this New York Walking Tour covered it all, well the things I"m interested in anyway - fun stuff to look at, food and booze!

This is my fave

V = Venezuelan

A solo mission this time to Caracas in the East Village for a taste of Venezuelan yumminess.

After living close by for years I'd never been and boy was I missing out.

Yum yummadee yum is all I can say.

I sat up at the bar, ordered a little Argentinian Los Alamos Chardonnay and the ceviche special to start. Ridiculously good, fresh light and just the right amount of lime juice and cilantro to get the tastebuds going. Ceviche in my mind is as good as a detox, it gives you the same cleansing, healthy, I'm virtuous feeling. Well that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Next up.....Arepas! Caracas makes theirs from scratch daily, they're crispy on the outside and soft and spongy in the middle and filled with pretty much anything. Sort of like a smaller, heavier, doughier, pita. I went for one stuffed with shredded chicken, onions, guacamole, spicy white cheese and jalapenos. You have to pick it up like a sandwich and stuff it into your mouth, it drips on your hands and oozes around your mouth, it's not pretty but who cares it's so damn tasty (unless you're on a first date).

All this for about $20.

There's a hundred or so other Arepas and dishes on the menu but I was full to the brim so many visits are required. What a hardship.

There's a Caracas Arepa Bar in Williamsburg now too that also has Roneria, a special rum bar within, it's been added to the to do list.

Not as good as the real taste of Venezuela but good enough.

Tip: don't go on the weekends unless you like to wait in line for over an hour.

Only 4 more letters to go!

U = University

We were going back to University and this time for my least favourite subject - Science. Why you may ask, well for the week of "U" it also happened to be the World Science Festival at the famous New York University so it seemed too fitting not to give it a whirl.

NYU is sprawled across much of downtown Manhattan with the main artillery in Washington Square Park. This is where our Friday night lecture on "Mind over Matter: the Future of Thinking" was to be held.

After downing a quick bowl of rigatoni al ragu and bottle of chianti at Frankies on 2nd Avenue we were ready to go back to Uni days. However Uni days this was most definitely not. Everyone was a little older and a little more serious (well that's putting it lightly).

We sat up in the back of the gallery (in case we wanted to do a runner) and listened to interesting speakers, including one dude who basically was about 100 brains in one, Professor John Donoghue the founding chairman of the Department of Neuroscience at Brown and currently the director of the Brown Institute for Brain Science. He showed us his new toy - a robot that reads your thoughts and then acts them out - scary but incredible. He believes, in our generation, we'll see these robots become part of our everyday lives.

After about 45 minutes the old droopy lids in a lecture started to come back, now this was more like Uni days. We listened to a little more of the (sort of going over my head a bit now) lecture and then decided maybe we didn't need to stay right until the end, especially as we were the only ones not taking notes, clearly we were just spectators in this crazy science world.

NYU is really a very impressive University, amazing facilities. If you ever get the chance to visit it or attend an event there I'd recommend it.

Next up: V = Venezualan

T = Tenth

Eek! I'm a little late posting this, the activity was done in time sequence but I have to confess a couple of summer trips away delayed my write up, woops. Therefore I'm posting twice in one week - U to follow shortly.


Nothing is more fabulous in life than moving to a new area and
realising you're steps away from a relatively unknown, culinary gem.
Tenth Avenue has a surprising little stretch from approx 18th st -
26th st with great restaurants that are blissfully mega crowd free,
especially during the work week, even though it's steps from the uber
popular Meatpacking District.

So we decided to try all the restaurants in what became our very
own version of Restaurant Week....Tasting Tenth Week. My tummy loved
it. My skinny jeans, not so much.

We started at Cookshop, now our regular haunt purely down to the
Butchers Block, what can I say it's hands down the best in the City. A
generous board of chicken liver mousse, course duck and pork pate,
duck rillette, falling apart melt in the mouth ham, pork belly and
accroutements so fabulous that you don't know where to begin. Served
up with pop in the mouth cornichons and hot crusty garlic oil bread.
Heaven. Washed down with a good Malbec life feels pretty good. We were
in tasting mode so we ordered the cheese board too, excellent
selection, clearly carefully chosen and contrasting perfectly. Served
with walnut and raisin bread and the now obligatory nuts, figs and
honey, perfection. If you're in the mood to sit back, watch the world
go by and pick on a treasure trove of tasty morsels then Cookshop is
your place.

Day 2 took us to Tia Pol. Basically the best and most authentic real
Catalan tapas in the City in my humble opinion. If you go, wait for a
table at the little bar as you come in so you get the evening light
and warm air and can really pretend to be living the good life in the
Penedes, far away from the dirty New York street you're really perched
on. To really go for it order a bottle of crisp, light white from
their excellent Penedes region selection. Small little servings come
out quickly, the grilled bite-size, hot, green peppers tossed in olive
oil and sea salt were delish, the crispy white fish had the perfect
texture, light and tasty and the chopped anchovy toasts were fresh and
just a little spicy. The list could go on. Go for yourself and skip
lunch so you have room to really have fun with the menu.

The next night we were off to Trestle on Tenth, the promise of a secluded
courtyard garden sounded perfection on a perfect day in the 80s with
zero humidity. Now, it does have a lot going for it.... the garden's
gorgeous, the food's pretty good, prices are ok... but the service is
terrible. In a City like New York where your expectations of service
are raised to an almost obscene, spoilt brat level, that just won't
do. Trestle not worthy of Tenth perhaps?

Red Cat was next up. What can I say this just scores a ten everytime
in my book. Service - impeccable. Decor and crowd - stylish. Wine list
- ridiculously good. Food - overwhelmingly perfect. The asparagus and
pecorino risotto is worth going for alone. Love love love this place.

Cheap and cheerful was the name of the game for our last Tasting on
Tenth meal out (unfortunately our bank balance over the course of this
delicious week was going in the opposite direction of my waistline) so
what better way to end our tasting spree than with a carafe of
Montpulciano and a crispy, light, toppings laden real pizza at Don
Giovanni, served straight out of the wood burning oven on to your
table in the metal tray it went in in. $80 for a caprese salad,
grilled mushrooms in balsamic, two pizzas, a carafe of wine and a
Peroni or two - a slice of the good life at half the price.

After we finished our week we discovered Bottino. That tasting is to
come, joiners are welcome!

The other heavenly thing to note about dining on Tenth Ave is 99% of
the places have outside space and on a hot sticky night you're close
enough to feel the welcome breeze from the Hudson River. It makes
dessert and a second bottle of wine simply irresistable.

What can i say, Tenth is almost so good I was tempted to keep it a
secret all to myself but caring is sharing blah blah blah. So go,
enjoy. Just don't tell too many others.

S = Shooting

As I live in America and guns are, to a British person, strangely legal and as I've never even held one let alone shot one, it seemed a no brainer to do S = shooting.

Handily there's a shooting range in my neighbourhood just a few doors down from a lovely family friendly Farmers Market. Westside Rifle and Pistol Range www.westsidepistolrange.com is a good little place, you go down the stairs and immediately you can hear the shots, not in a muffled way more in a jump-out-of-your-skin-these really-aren't-toys-are-they sort of way. As I jumped back and let out a little girly squeal I was introduced to our instructor - a tiny man who looked like he'd seen the better part of 50 with tattoos covering his entire body including a big old snake going all the way up the back of his wrinkly neck. Apparently the NYPD were in that day training with their handguns. They encourage them to come in and train, our instructor tells us, because (in a hushed tone) many of them aren't that good with a gun. Hmm that's reassuring as I walk past police with guns at my subway stop most days of the week.

After many conversations with girlfriends I'd planned to stay away from a rifle as apparently it hurts. I'd always fancied myself as Jack Bauer's sidekick so a nifty little handgun sounded good to me. That all went out the window when we went for a quick 5 minute training sesh and learned that handguns are only for those with a licence so I was given a big old automatic rifle, no backing out now.

We learned how to load, reload, hold the gun etc and then we were off, loading our 50 rounds of ammo into our magazines and then with ear mufflers and plastic glasses (nothing sexy about the rifle range) we were free to shoot the place up. First try was a little scary but the kick-back wasn't too bad and my fear of being blasted off backwards and ending up with a very sore shoulder was put aside and after 3 hits I was loving it! So much so that I even got a little competitive with Si and on our last go I actually won! Read it and weep baby!

I left pumped with adrenaline and a wee bit proud of myself for going through with something that seemed, in my mind, much scarier than it actually was. I suppose it's like everything in life until you try it and I for one can't get enough of the trying.

S = Soooo much fun!

Next week: T = Tai Chi

R = Restoration

Bette Midler, a personal fave ever since Outrageous Fortune, is the Founder of the New York Restoration Project. In 1995 she set about organising and funding the first volunteer clean-ups in dirty derelict parks in the City with the hope of creating a greener, cleaner New York.

Today NYRP has 55 community gardens and four sponsored city parks under its belt. One especially appealing to me is Fort Tryon Park as it features the little gem New Leaf Cafe.

So, on a gorgeous New York Sunday we boarded the A train up to 190th Street, the park boarders Washinghton Heights and Inwood and is literally in front of you as you come out of the subway.

The park itself is gorgeous, full of azaleas, peonies, forget-me-nots, pansies and lots more that I can't remember the names of. Living in New York a garden of my own is a distant memory. The views are fantastic from the viewing platform at the top, you can see up and down the Hudson River on one side, twinkling in the sunlight, then all across the City on the other.

The New Leaf Cafe is nestled in the middle of the park, a gorgeous little old 1930s stone building with a fantastic terrace literally hiding in an area of trees and bushes out the back. The tables sit not too close together (a personal peeve) under white umbrellas with white matching tablecloths, perfectly simple in the natural setting. We went for brunch and if you're prepared to wait approx 1 hour for a table it's well worth it. You can always do what we did and wait at the bar sipping perfectly chilled pink bubbly while you wait, not so hard. The brunch is fantastic, Simon's duck rosti with poached egg and hickory smoked bacon was ridiculously good.

You feel like you're a milion miles away from New York City, as if you've taken a day trip upstate but smugly managed to escape the traffic somehow. In my opinion a perfect way to while away a Sunday in the sunshine.

Thank-you Bette, you are the wind beneath our wings.

Q = Queens

Just like Eddie Murphy in Coming to America, we were going to Queens to find our Queen. Well the Queen in our 26 Weeks deck of cards let's say, we've had so many Aces so it was time for a Queen.

I had a good feeling about this week's task. The day was stunning, lovely and hot and not a cloud in the sky. First stop Central Park for a little sunbathe and picnic then we jumped on the C line up to Astoria. We got out and had a good wander around, it was like being on the set of My Big Fat Greek Wedding, absolutely brilliant.

We popped into one of a lot of shops selling intricate dresses for little 'uns for their christening, veils for brides, amazingly detailed and big corsages. Three old greek women were working in the shop handmaking everything for sale, they weren't best pleased to have a couple tourists looking around but it was worth the disapproving looks.

We then discovered the Bohemian Hall and Beer Garden, a former Czech and Slovak social club and still a popular spot for Astoria's Czech and Slovak community. The huge beer garden was packed, actually full of a lot of pretty drunk students, all looking 18 or 19 years old, it brought back wistful memories of being that age, blowing off the student loan, fun times. The garden is great, line after line of tables full with big pitchers of beer, the perimeter is surrounded by huge old trees making it feel less parking lot and more real good old fashioned beer garden, they even do waitress service at your
table after 5pm, a nice little touch especially as the bar by that time was 10 people deep.


After a few merrymaking drinks in the fading sun of the day we walked up to Ditmar Boulevard, Greek restaurant central. We picked the one with the best Awards and the most Authentic menu, Taverna Kyclades (big thanks to Si for the research on this one). Happily we found it packed with the local Greek community waiting patiently for tables, a good sign indeed. We went for the Greek salad, a sharing plate of skordalia, tzatziki and incredibly fishy taramosalata, followed by whole sea bass and lamb chops. So much food and so good, washed down with a bottle of greek plonk, actually pretty tasty. The atmos was great, loud, full of families, everyone living it up on a Saturday night, a great experience.




We pootled home and polished off the night watching the Mayweather Mosley fight on the PPV, sadly Mosley lost, but today we won. Queens rules.

P = Poetry

On a Tuesday night we ventured to the Bowery Poetry Cafe for Urbana, the weekly poetry slam.

While I appreciate poetry and have been known to add a little ditty into a birthday card here or there, I'm not an active poetry lover so this was a little night out from the norm for me.

We arrived to a packed out room, found the bar, grabbed a bevvie and squeezed into a spot. I had no idea what was about to greet me and wow was I greeted.

What ensued was an amazing line-up of ridiculously impressive, highly entertaining poets battling it out on stage. Sort of a cross between 8 Mile and The Moth.

It was frenetic, a bit crazy at times, funny, sad, shocking and we loved it. One lady talked about her self loathing in such a moving way I welled up a little, another lady was angry, shouting and rhyming about everything she's got it in for in an incredibly funny way. One guy was so fast and melodic telling his political woes, it was almost like he was rapping.

Hugely talented poets just up there doing there thing, no fear, just putting it out there. It was a sight to see.

Urbana has won the national poetry slam award many a time and I can see why, definitely worth checking out if you find yourself free on a Tuesday night. It's only $7 entry so you'll have plenty of pennies left to grab a bevvie at The Bowery Hotel or Madame Geneva next door, two of my all time faves.

O = Oysters

I'm ashamed to say after nearly five years of living in New York I've never visited the legendary Oyster Bar in Grand Central Station.....well until now that is.

After a busy day at work I rushed into Grand Central, not to catch a train home like the thousands of commuters, but on a mission to get to the Raw Bar as quickly as possible.

As I bypassed the trashy chain yuck junk food stands I have to admit I was a little worried this was going to be a huge letdown but fear not my friends it turned out to be a wonderful gem of a place. If you've never been and fancy a visit, my advice would be to not sit in the restaurant area or the relatively new sushi bar bit, sit good and proper at the original oyster bar where the buckets of oysters in ice and freezing water are waiting for your eating pleasure. It's not glamorous, it's definitely overpriced and it's a little dirty but it's oodles of fun. I mean what is not to love about an Oyster Bar? Little small creatures who've given up their squishy little lives to let us wash them down with some crisp cold bubbly, bliss.

There's a big old list to choose from - 29 different oysters in total. Plus a list of over 30 Catch of the Day fishy items and a whole host of other scrummy snacks, including the obligatory Lobster Roll, which I can hand on heart say was fantastico, almost as good as Cyril's in East Hampton, not quite, but very close.

We asked our server to choose a selection of the best he had. We tasted a range of teeny tiny sweet ones which reminded me of a great day out at the seaside in good ol' Blighty, that great sea air taste. Others were huge, real big boys, a little intimidating but definitely tasty.

One thing you gotta love about oysters ladies is that they're a moment on the lips but thankfully not a lifetime on the hips! Lets face it there ain't that many tasty little morsels out there we can say that about.

 As we watched tired city workers rush to catch their commuter train home we pondered over our faves - Kumamoto (Oregon) and Wellfleet (Massachusetts) - polished off the
last of our champers and meandered home, feeling a little like tourists again. Brilliant.

N = Night Court

Sometimes 26 Weeks has led me to places I would love to revisit and other times the journey has taken me to places I'm glad to have experienced but thankful not to go back - this week was exactly that.

Night Court takes place every day of the week from 5.30pm-1am at the Criminal Courts building on 100 Centre Street, lower Manhattan. Under state law, the city only has 24 hours to get a criminal before a judge and with a juicy amount of crime going on in this crazy City, a virtual round-the-clock prosecution system is in order.

You enter the courts through security then walk down a long hallway to two rooms, we were told 130 was the one with the most action. However, we walked a little too far and were stopped and redirected by a nice security guard who told us "we were walking straight into jail", hmm must listen to directions better.

We quietly slipped in and sat in the visitors benches, sadly all the other people there seemed to be friends and family waiting to hear the outcome for their loved ones, there were all strikingly young and had a few unhappy and fidgeting kiddies in tow.

After a lot of sitting around waiting 4-5 men were brought out from the jail and the judge speedily went through each case. We had to strain our ears to hear what was going on and I had to remind myself this was real court, not TV or movie court, they don't have microphones handily dotted around so you can hear their every word and there's no sudden outbursts or dramatic explosions from the audience. Hollywood this most definitely was not.

The most dramatic case was for two brothers being tried for cocaine dealing, they looked about 17 years old, their girlfriends were watching from the benches, one had a newborn baby in her lap.

The least dramatic case was for subway fare dodging, we heard the man was homeless, I imagined him trying to get warm for the night but with no cash he thought he'd try and get in to the subway. I'm sure jail for him actually meant a meal and some shelter, I resolved to try and do more to help the homeless this year.

As we headed out into Chinatown afterwards to grab some dinner we noticed all of the bail shops around the court. One had a big flashing neon light screaming "ANY NYC BAIL ANY NYC JAIL CALL 212-608-6200. GET OUT OF JAIL FAST!" Now that's a little more Hollywood.

M = Mass Pillow Fight

This week is a short one, I was up and out on a sunny New York day to attend the Mass Pillow Fight in Union Square. This was part of the Urban Playground Movement, people all around the world staging mass pillow fights in their city. I commend anyone who gets off their bum and does something different with their weekend and doesn't care what people think of them. The pillow fighting commenced with a big countdown by the crowd hemmed in by metal fences with so many police standing guard it was like a controversial political protest. I definitely wasn't in the age bracket of most there, NYU was out in force and American Eagle PJs were doing a roaring trade. Feathers flew and heads were bashed, thankfully not mine. Not much else to say on this one really. Tick, done. Next week's "N" will definitely be a little more on the challenging side. 'Til then!

L = Legendary

Bob Dylan, Janis Joplin, Leonard Cohen, Arthur Miller, Dylan Thomas, Sid Vicious. What do they have in common? The Chelsea Hotel I hear you quite rightly say. So many interesting characters checked in to the Chelsea Hotel, nestled on 23rd between 7th and 8th, and some never checked out. Not just another historic landmark in New York City, it's the stuff of legends.

So when my hugely talented musician friend Cariad suggested we check out the play Room #103 in, yep you guessed it, Room #103 I jumped at the chance. A play in a room in a hotel sounded interesting enough but this is no ordinary hotel and this is no ordinary room, it's the one with the actual bathroom where Sid allegedly stabbed Nancy to death, poor Nancy.

About 20 of us met in the lobby of the hotel and were escorted up to the room, past lots of artwork on the walls from former guests. Apparently if the landlord in the good old days thought you could do something, or if he liked you, then you were in, you didn't have to pay the rent. This was until he nearly went bankrupt and had to rethink his nicely bohemian but very buggered plan.

We all took a pew on the floor and watched two girls and two boys tell the story of Dylan Thomas's life and his spiral downhill into young girls and too much whiskey before his death at the ripe old age of 39. The tale is mixed up with tidbits on the other famous folk who lived at the Hotel, using a mixture of music, poetry and real footage projected on to the paint peeling walls. One hour later and one numb bum later we left entertained and a little jealous that we didn't get to party, even just for one night, with Dylan and Janis and all the others, if only.

We had a little nosy on the way out and the Hotel certainly has a weird exciting energy about it, you can hear the people who still live there (the hotel is no longer accepting permanent tenancy but those who got in before they changed the policy are staying in). They're behind their closed doors just getting on with things and it makes you wonder just what those things might be? Somewhere, behind one of the doors, is a character called Stormy, she's 90 years old, has lived there for most of her life and was the first female gay bouncer. Now if only we could find her room.

L this week was certainly Legendary.

ps: don't miss out on another legend in the making www.cariadharmon.com

K = Kinky

On a roll with visiting interesting, not especially touristy, New York museums I decided this week to mix it up a little and visit the Museum of Sex http://www.museumofsex.com

I'd heard good things about the place and how it's a museum like no other (well I'd say that's a given with the subject matter) plus as it's now closeish to my new pad it seemed rude - excuse the pun - not to.

It's a small little place with a good mix of out of towners and New York locals. Looking around there were a lot of faces that screamed "hey I'm not uncomfortable, I'm totally at ease looking at the sex and the moving image exhibit standing next to total strangers" (basically a variety of porn flicks creatively displayed on the walls, floor and ceiling, ranging from the old to the new, the bizarre to the pay-per-view bulk standard).

The clear winners for sheer entertainment were the exhibits on Pony Play and Cannibal Play. Seriously, getting trussed up like a Sunday roast with all the trimmings is a bona fide fetish. There really is something for everyone out there.

Oh and if you've always wondered what a "real-life" sex doll a la Lars and the Real Girl feels like, rock on up and have a squeeze, she'll be waiting.

J = Jewish Heritage

Many of my closest friends are Jewish and I'm 100% interested in the heritage of my dearest friends, so what better way to find out more than making letter " J" a visit to the Museum of Jewish Heritage http://www.mjhnyc.org/. Plus, Passover is fast approaching so this seemed perfectly timed.

So, on a wet and windy New York day we walked for an hour along the murky Hudson River down to Battery Park, past the Chelsea Piers, the old Batting Cages and Ground Zero. The Museum is right on the front and spread across three floors, providing a perspective on 20th century Jewish history. From past to present, you're taken on a journey through video, exhibits, paintings, photos and words. Created as a living memorial to those who perished during the Holocaust, it's enlightening and harrowing. I came away having learnt a great deal and understanding so much more.

Afterwards we escaped the rain and warmed up over a bottle of El Coto and delicious food at Cafe Cluny, super cosy, it epitomises the West Village http://www.cafecluny.com. A little tip: go before 6.30pm on a Sunday for the 3 courses for $30, normally setting you back around double that.

I'm so glad this was my letter J.

Chag Pesach Sameach dear friends xoxo

I = Italian Grannies

This week took us to Staten Island for the very first, and I can pretty much guarantee, last time. Ticked the box. We were off to Enoteca Maria www.enotecamaria.com a restaurant made semi-famous in NYC due to the kitchen staff consisting not of underpaid, overworked Mexicans as in most NYC kitchens, but bona fide Nonnas. These nine little ladies work on a rosta ruling the roost and sometimes a special guest granny drops in to cook up a storm when visiting from the Motherland. They cook up mama’s special dishes, some are hush hush secret squirrel recipes handed down through the generations, others are the good ol’ classics, wash it all down with a bottle of two of Valpolicella and bob’s your uncle, happy days.

Our 26 Weeks joiners this week were the delightful and daring Will and Shirin. We jumped on the free Staten Island Ferry (where in the world do you get a free ferry ride, love that) on which you can buy beer don’t you know. One Heineken later sipped at the sticky formica bar with the smell of pee wafting around and we were ready to stretch out our waistbands and send our cholesterol levels soaring. As we departed the ferry we noticed some rather ahem interesting ads, one real eye-catcher extolled the merits of the Island – “Come back and visit us soon for the best cancer care in New York”, a little chemo with your chianti perhaps.

Enoteca Maria is a 5 min walk from the ferry terminal, it’s quite small and you should definitely book. On arrival we were happy to see that we were going to be the only tourists that night, clearly we were lacking the de rigueur acrylic nails and volumised “do” and the boys had neglected to sport a custom made gold chain nestled in a thick chest of hair. Cliché you may say, oh yes I say and I couldn’t be happier about that. As Staten Island has a higher percentage of Italian-Americans than any other county in the United States, I was expecting, and hoping, to have a real old-school Italian experience and that’s what we got. The fact that we were British seemed to be ok too, after last week’s experience I was a little self aware, coupled with the fact that Staten Island was where the British government reportedly received their first notification of the Declaration of Independence in the 1700s, starting the kick-out the Brits campaign. What a contrast to our frat boy experience last week though, everyone was uber friendly, we were off to a great start.

The ordering began, there were a few questionable delicacies, such as Zampe di Gallina - chicken feet in a spicy tomato sauce and Capuzzelle al Forno – half a stuffed sheep’s head. Of course, that’s what Simon ordered and I’m eternally grateful to him for that, I got to see it and smell it but not have to try it to tell the tale. The good stuff: burrata was out of this world melt in the mouth, the meatballs were to die for, the branzino was tasty, the rabbit was polished off and the pasta was comforting. Not so comforting were said feet and head. The chicken’s feet freaked us out a tad, they really looked like ET’s hand and seeing that being gnawed with red sauce on top was more than us ladies were prepared for. The sheep’s head, well what can I say about that, I don’t know whether it was the scooping out of the brains or the removal of the teeth to get to the good stuff in the gums that was more unsettling. The lady at the next table shuddered to see Simon picking the old bonce apart, she remembered having to pick up the sheep’s head for dinner when she was a little girl and vowed never to eat it again, her hubby informed us that if you went to the butcher and got the head with one blue eye you’d always be cursed. Simon had already polished off the eye and we didn’t remember it having a blueish tint but I guess time will tell.

Sheeps Head

Sheeps head after Simon ate it

At this point I have to comment on the eclectic music, we literally went on a musical tour around the world, first stop Australia for a little didgeridoo, then back to America for some 80s soft rock, off to Italy for some classic opera Pavarotti stylee, off to Brazil for a little samba and back to Berlin for some banging techno. Joe the owner certainly knows how to mix up the old playlist. Something for everyone was definitely his MO.

After being treated to a freebie hazlenut chocolate cheesecake (scrumptious) we met our wonderful Nonna of the Night - Adelena Masana who was born and raised in Naples, she came to America in 1990, lives in Brooklyn and has six kiddie winkles.

We left full and happy, our last stop was the bar a couple of doors down, we met the Polish locals, played dice on the bar, necked a few sambucas, had a little swing dancing show from Will and Shirin then boarded the Ferry back to our Motherland. Well not really but we’ll pretend it is for now. As we raced towards the glittering lights of that iconic Manhattan skyline, drinking ferry beer out of a paper cup, we broke into a little Jay Z "Empire State of Mind" sing-song...

“These streets will make you feel brand new
Big lights will inspire you
Hear it for New York, New York, New York”. Nuff said.

H = Hotties

This week's entry is purely for the ladies and a shameless plug for my magazine. Our signature event - Cosmopolitan's Fun Fearless Male Awards - took place last night at the fabulous Mandarin Oriental in NYC. Celebrating 10 of the hottest guys in film, music, sport and tv at a swanky cocktail party reminds me why I love my job so much. This New York experience was definitely easy on the eye, check 'em out:

http://www.mtv.com/photos/cosmopolitans-fun-fearless-male-awards/1632944/4654800/photo.jhtml

Next week I = Italian Grannies

G = Graffiti

This week’s letter was definitely not what I’d planned but turned out to be an interesting little experience nonetheless. After much discussion I decided that illegally tagging a few walls around NYC with my 26 Weeks logo then writing about it on a public blog was probably not the best idea. I enjoy my legal residency in this fine country too much.

So I thought I pay a visit to 5Points www.5ptz.com an outdoor art exhibit in Long Island City, considered to be the world’s premiere “graffiti Mecca,” where aerosol artists from around the world are able to legally paint on the walls of a huge factory building. Sadly it was closed for the season but will open again in the summer to visit but you’re only permitted to paint if you’re an aerosol artist, hmm might have to work on that a bit. Whatever happens I will be visiting it in July when it reopens to coincide with the parties at PS1 – in my humble opinion one of the best experiences you can have dancing in the sunshine in NYC. I recommend you check it out or even better…join me! Oh and if you’re an artist and fancy helping me get a permit to paint my logo at 5Points I will take you to PS1 afterwards and be your beck and call beer girl all day.

So the next plan was to do the Graffiti walking tour of Brooklyn. To kick it off we went to a fabulous little hole-in-the-wall restaurant called Graffiti in the East Village http://www.graffitinyc.com/ and this is where the story begins and ends…

Graffiti is a kooky shoebox-size (us Manhattan dwellers are used to living in shoeboxes so this was just like home from home) delicious restaurant by Jehagnir Mehta, who was on the last Iron Chef don’t you know, where you're served ridiculously delish spicy sharing plates, very reasonably priced and the wine is all $25 a bottle, you could easily impress a date here on the cheap boys, just saying.

Cosy doesn’t even cover how it is in there, you share a table with other guests, well you have one tiny side of a table between two of you and the tables are really on top of each other, everyone gets into the spirit of it though and is mindful of each other’s space whilst making friends at the same time. All was going swimmingly until in walked a group of loud and sadly stereotypical frat boys. You could see the look on everyone’s faces, including the Manager’s, the “you’re in the wrong place” look, however a paying customer is just that so they were seated behind us and we didn’t spare them another thought. That was until Simon was shoved in the back, apparently one of them had been asking Simon to move so he could squeeze into his seat but it’s so loud in there and we were nattering away that we didn’t hear him, a simple tap and excuse me would’ve sufficed but no, a shove was what we got.

What ensued was definitely a new experience for me in New York. In the four and a bit years I’ve lived here I’ve found everyone here to be LOVELY. Kind, generous, warm and friendly. However, this guy was an Italian-American who clearly wanted to be one of the Goodfellas but unfortunately would be more likely to give “The Situation” a run for his money on MTV’s delightful reality show “Jersey Shore”. If you’ve no idea what I’m talking about, google it. So, after asking him why he shoved us out the way we got a torrent of abuse back which we responded to pretty disdainfully, keeping in mind we’re sitting in effectively one tiny room with 12 other people so now everyone’s listening, suddenly “The Shame” as I’ll call him jumps up and asks Simon if he wants to “take it outside”. Honestly, not lying, the whole restaurant bursts out laughing, we tell him to sit down and after a few more choice words, me calling him a little kid and him calling me an old woman (not the best for a girls moral when she’s just invested too much to mention in a new fantabulous face cream that has promised to restore that youthful glow) he sits back down and we continue with our meal while trying to tune out their puffed up on testosterone and beer fuelled egos mouthing off about us. Our table was incredibly gracious and sympathised with us for our encounter with what they describe as a real-life fraternity party, the Manager is wonderful and apologises profusely and brings us complimentary cheese and excellent pinot noir at the end of our meal to make up for it all.

Now, for those who don’t know me that well I’m not the best at keeping my opinion to myself (maybe working on that can be next year’s New Year’s resolution) so for those that do know me this won’t come as much of a surprise. As we leave a sudden urge to put the “The Shame” in his place comes over me and I bend down and whisper quickly in his ear on my way out the door “your mother would be ashamed of you”. Woops. He follows us out with his friend in tow and tries to take a swing at Simon who has no idea what just happened until he realises I’ve put my big old foot in it. After a rather heated argument, including us being told that we should go back to our own country and everyone hates Europeans, hilarious coming from a guy who was clearly proud of his Italian heritage, we decide that this week’s letter has well and truly run it’s course and we toddle off leaving him ranting in the street giggling to ourselves about the crazy unexpected experience that just unfolded out of nowhere. Graffiti had turned out to be full of the drama I’d been avoiding. Lets hope next week’s H = happy!

F = Firecracker

February 14th, V-Day, a day for romance with one’s own “firecracker”, or a day to spend welcoming in the 2010 Lunar New Year in Chinatown at the traditional Firecracker Celebration.

Asian cultures all over the world light firecrackers to create a wall of smoke and fire to scare away evil spirits of the past year. Mayor Giuliani had banned firecrackers in NYC as a safety precaution but in the aftermath of 9/11 he lifted the ban and allowed the Firecracker Celebration to once again become a central part of the Lunar New Year festivities in 2002.

A crowd of over 500,000 was expected, I wouldn’t say it reached that number, perhaps the cold was to blame but a good number developed none the less, a few children were dressed in traditional attire, guys on the street were selling bangers which you could hear going off everywhere and a few Lion dancers jiggled their big heads and wiggled their brightly coloured tails.

We (this week Simon and I had some 26 Weeks joiners, lovely friends Ben and Will) found a perch on the top of a wall and watched as 600,000 small firecrackers were set off creating a very loud display that lasted five minutes with a few fireworks thrown in.

F also stands for freezing which is what we were after waiting over an hour to see the evil spirits scurry away so we decided that F should end with Freemans www.freemansrestaurant.com where we toasted the New Year whilst defrosting over a superb artichoke dip and other tasty delights fit for St Valentine himself.

Next week: G = Graffiti

E = Ellis Island

Three words for this week's experience....ticked.the.box.

Not much to report this week. A very cold but fun ferry ride over to Ellis Island - a place I felt I should visit as I live in New York - followed by a short and sweet trip around the Museum. A lot of interesting facts to be found, including one quote that stood out to me from a lady that travelled through Ellis Island, she described the place as a Maternity Dept / Mental Asylum due to the sheer number of babies, kids and mental patients held there while trying to travel through, not the best combination some might say.

My own personal takeaway was that Immigration has, of course, improved a LOT, however U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services if you're out there, waiting for what seems like a lifetime in an incredibly overheated Immigration Hall and then being grilled by a gruff dude behind the desk every time I return to this country on a British visa could perhaps be improved a wee bit? Just saying.

Next week F = Firecracker Display in Chinatown. 500,000 people apparently and a lot of noise.

D = 3D

As the world’s gone crazy for Avatar in 3D, I thought this week I’d try New York in 3D:

1) D = Diner
2) D = Dumbo
3) D = Doughnuts

My wonderful friends Greg and Sian were in town this weekend so “D” became a group expedition, so much fun.

First stop, Diner. The idea was to find a classic, old diner in New York to line our tummies with an old fashioned, hearty American breakfast before walking over the Brooklyn Bridge to Dumbo (best walk in town) in -9C weather. First thought was Moondance, it opened in the 1930s and was the scene in Friends where Monica worked for a while to earn some cash, the one where she had to wear the fake boobs. Due to its Soho location and rising rent it sadly had to shut down in 2007. Next stop Cheyenne Diner, opened in the early 1940s, on 11th Avenue, formerly known as Death Avenue because until the late 1930s a railroad ran down the centre probably ploughing into those who’d had a few too many pancakes at the diner and were a little slow moving across the street. This one sadly popped its clogs in 2008.

So, we found Remedy Diner, by brothers Peter and Anastasios Giannopoulos who worked in their father’s 45-year-old Upper West Side diner, 3 Stars, before opening up this place. Good old nostalgia with homebaked pies and the hugest plates of delicious breakfast fodder you could ever imagine. What I loved the most was the amuse bouche of fresh fruit with biscuits and gravy. To explain to my non-American friends, this was soft dough bready-biscuits with a thick white sauce, made from cooked pork sausage, white flour and milk, flavored with black pepper. Not very appetising.
Stuffed to the gills and many mugs of coffee later we get our sausages to go and head off through Chinatown to the Brooklyn Bridge. Chinatown provided some interesting and very disturbing scenes, including fresh fish being hauled out of tanks, thrown intro plastic bags, weighed, bought and freshly killed. Let’s say fish was firmly taken off our menu for the rest of the day.

Over the Bridge we go to DUMBO (again for my non-American friends this stands for Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass), love it here, great views and great old warehouse buildings. We stopped in to the newish Dumbo General Store to refuel on hot chocolate and Pinot Noir, good place, lovely friendly people.
Our third D was going to be Dough in Dumbo at the institution Grimaldi’s, serving coal-fired brick oven pizza just like it was cooked in the first pizzeria in America around 1905. However, at -9C, with a one hour wait OUTSIDE with arctic winds whipping up off the Hudson we decided it was a bit chilly on the willy and better saved for summer. So the grand finale D morphed into the NYPD’s fave….doughnuts.

Donut Pub is the oldest stand-alone mom and pop shop left in the City serving real doughnuts. It’s been going for 45 years and 2 years ago a Dunkin Donuts literally moved in next door, there was a wave of fear in the neighbourhood that it would go the way of the diners, but no! Donut Pub is going strong and I can see why. OMG they’re good. Light and crispy, a mere whisp of sweet sugariness. We went for the most popular Boston Crème – amazing vanilla crème, Sugar Jelly, ie: old school sugar and strawberry jam and the Honey Dip as we’d heard the restaurant won “Best Glazed Goodness in New York” in 2006 for the latter. At 3 bucks for 3 they’re a fabulous sweet treat and after telling myself repeatedly that I can’t stop by the legendary Manalo Blahnik sale this week, Donut Pub satisfied my sugar and bargain craving all in one go.

D = Delicious.

ps: a special thanks to Greg and Sian this week for a legendary laughter filled weekend and your dedication to the “D” cause. Love you lots xx

C = C Line

Note: This is a long one, got a lot to share, so if you’re up for reading on I’d recommend making a cuppa and grabbing a biccie. I've also included pictures, they're at the very end of the blog but they're topsy turvy, scroll all the way down and go from bottom to top for a chronological visual tour of our C Line adventure, next week I'll get this picture thing sussed!

Saturday, 11am, a glorious sunny day in New York and I’m off to deepest Brooklyn with Simon - my amazing 26wks partner in crime and genius map reader - to get on the first subway stop of the C line. We’re going to ride it until the last stop in Harlem, getting off at all stops along the way that have the letter C in the name and doing something in that area – 12 stops in total. I haven’t done much research, we’re just going to go for it and see what happens.

On our way to the start line we pass the huge cemetery you see on the drive into Manhattan from JFK airport and find out it has a whopping 530,000 graves, that’s a whole lot of haunting.

We arrive at Euclid Avenue, East New York on the border of Brooklyn and Queens. East New York, I’ve subsequently found out, has a population of around 90,000 and distressingly over half the population lives below the poverty line. Cypress Hills is close by, one of the most dangerous places in New York in the ‘80s, this is the place where police were shot at from the tops of the high rises whenever they tried to enter the area. It goes without saying I’m pretty happy to have Simon with me on this challenge. There’s not much around, vacant housing, wasteland, a scrapyard, a pawn shop and a bodega, we decide to grab a 50c cup of coffee from the guy in the bodega behind a floor to ceiling reinforced glass screen (puts my $4.96 starbucks grande latte bad habit into perspective), take our pic of the subway stop and move on pretty swiftly, to say we stuck out like a sore thumb is the understatement of the year and we’re eager to get going to see what the next stop has to offer. As we’re about to set off we hear the local mosque call to prayer, we follow the sound and see all the local Muslim men on their way to pray, as they do five times a day. Interesting.

We get on and next stop is Van Siclen Avenue, this is closer to Cypress Hills and I’m feeling quite unsettled, everything about us screams Manhattan, we’re being watched as soon as we get out of the stop, we’re clearly and understandably not very welcome and again there’s nothing to do, nothing at all in this area. This is the start of one of the day’s key takeaways - how lucky we are, how good we have it, how we’re spoilt for choice in all aspects of our lives. We see a sign for the local Baptist church and head there, unfortunately it’s shut up for the day, we’ve now wandered off a bit into nowhere and we’re alone on the street, we decide the sensible thing to do is to head back, jump on the C and get to the next stop.

We’re now at Broadway Junction, a mass of underground and overground trains, noisy and chaotic. As we exit we’re given a flyer advertising Habitat for Humanity housing available in the area, we’re humbled. To see more of the area on our journey we decide to walk to the next subway stop along Fulton Avenue. We’re immediately struck by how many churches there are for all different faiths, ranging from big buildings with a steeple to small rundown buildings with just a cross and the name of the church hand painted roughly on the door. We’ve walked for about half an hour when we reach our next subway stop on Malcolm X Boulevard, our walk has taken us through Bedford-Stuyvesant, the home of Jay-Z and what was the largest ghetto in the US in the ‘70s and we’ve counted 26 churches. That’s a lot of churches. The diamond district of churches. Next to pretty much every church is a beauty shop, worshipping takes place at the alter AND the manicure station.

At Utica Avenue, we’re still in Bed-Stuy, we hear gospel singing, absolutely brilliant, we peek through the church door window, not wanting to go in as we’re in jeans and warm clothes, nowhere near the correct church finery. As we’re about to leave a teeny tiny elderly lady comes out, about to apologise for intruding we’re stopped as she grabs us and pulls us in with the biggest smile on her face, desperate for us to join her in the praising of the lord, as neither of us are religious we feel a little fraudulent but this is priceless, this is what it’s all about, this is the experience I’ve been hoping for, you don’t get this opportunity everyday. We’re given two seats at the back and watch an incredible scene, singing, dancing, instruments being played, people clapping, kids with microphones, it’s simply fantastic, I feel very lucky to have been asked in, we’re invited to stay for lunch but politely make our way out, trying not to intrude too much, overwhelmed by how kind and welcoming everyone is, incredible big spirited big hearted people.

Next stop Clinton/Washington Avenue, we’re now in Downtown Brooklyn and it’s immediately different, wine shops, cheese shops galore. We head to a photographic exhibition I’ve read about and end up walking into MoCADA - Museum of Contemporary African Diasporan Arts http://mocada.org - the exhibition is closed but we buy a book - On The Wall, four decades of community murals in NYC - we’ve passed so many amazing murals on our way that this seems fitting. As we’re about to leave we check with the nice fella running the place as something isn't ringing true about where we are, sure enough we’ve walked into the wrong place, we want the building next door, handily he can unlock it for us and we can privately take a look at the exhibition I’d read about…. photography depicting councilman James E. Davis and his campaign against gun violence, he was the guy who single-handedly got Toys “R” Us to stop selling exact replica toy guns to kids. A good man. In 2003 he was shot and killed inside City Hall by his opponent for his council seat.

Off we go and we’re speeding things up a bit, it’s now 2pm and we have a lot of stops to go. We reach Hoyt St-Schermerhorn St and see the American Red Cross offices, we go to donate but they’re shut so Simon decides to post money through the door, probably a bit weird but the sentiment is there.

Next stop Manhattan. We’re meeting our friend Ben at the famous Bubby’s http://bubbys.com/ close to the Chambers-Church St stop. Bloody brilliant, very yummy Tribeca price brunch, $20 for eggs, makes me feel fairly frivolous keeping in mind the neighbourhoods we’ve just travelled through. As we’re at Bubby’s Pie Company it would be rude not to order the oh-so-american Michigan Sour Cherry Pie, it’s unbelievable, go there as soon as you can and order it straight away with ice cream on the side.

Refueled and warmed up we head off to Canal St. By the way MTA, if you’re going to disrupt services at the weekend please put up signs that actually make sense, thank-you. What do you do at Canal St? Well buy something fake of course. I fundamentally disagree with this and know not to help fuel crime in the City but my morals fly out the window at a scarily fast speed as I’m swept up in the excitement of helping to barter a good fake Bell & Ross watch for Simon down from $65 to $33, not bad not bad at all. (Note: it broke down within 12 hours).

It’s dark now, 5pm and we’re slowing down, we have to press on, we’re off to Columbus Circle, we’ve got to find something I’ve never done before and as I work in this area it may not be easy. Arriving we remember MAD – The Museum of Arts and Design http://www.madmuseum.org/ - has opened and we haven’t been yet, excellent. We pay and find out we have 25 minutes to see 5 floors of exhibitions, love that, art on speed. “Slash – paper under the knife” is fantastic, uber talent on show, it’s on until April 4th so plenty of time to see it if that’s your sort of thing. A few sneaky pictures, a lot of running up and down the stairs and at 25 minutes on the dot we’re leaving, we’ve managed to cover the whole museum ticking the box well and truly.

Next stop Cathedral City Parkway on 110 St. We get on the C line which doesn’t stop where we need it to but happens to be going express all the way to our last stop 125th St-Saint Nicholas Avenue, Harlem. We decide to flip our last two stops and get out on Martin Luther King Avenue and right in front of us is the legendary Apollo Theatre. All lit up in red as it always is, nothing quite like seeing an iconic place in front of you without expecting it. The show playing is a sell out so we walk on to find something else to do at this penultimate stop, we pass a sign that says Bingo and immediately know this is it. It’s going to be hard to describe the scene but I’ll give it a go, up a flight of stairs and through a door into a huge very brightly lit, decayed, church-run bingo hall. The smell of fried food permeates the whole room and we’re, once again, standing out like a sore thumb. We investigate what we have to do to join in and we’re again treated to the loveliest, warmest, friendliest people probably in the whole of New York, they give us four different bingo sheets, one bingo “tablet” and tell us to buy markers and find a seat. Our markers are not just any old markers, they’re “Dabbin Fever” markers, genius. We sit down on a table with a group of people who have been doing this for a LONG time, they range from 40s-60s and have a lot of sheets, they’re pros. This place is a real community, a place for people to come on a Saturday night, it’s cheap, friendly and hey you may win some cashola, there’s probably about 200 people in total, all eagerly facing the big numbers screens on the walls. A lot of people have brought in cushions to sit on, some ladies have a range of markers, one lady has eight in all different colours. Now, I remember Legs Eleven and Two Fat Ladies Eighty Eight but this isn’t that type of Bingo, this is serious bingo. Luckily we’ve been taken under the wing of our table crew and we learn about lucky sevens, powerball numbers and early bird games. The only part we’re not joining in with is getting a huge paper plate full of fried foodstuffs, lets just say SlimFast wasn’t doing a roaring trade at this get together. “Father” takes his place at the numbers station and we’re off, as we get closer to the end and the sheets fill up you really start to feel “Dabbin Fever” in the air. Ladies are excitedly calling out the last number they need and when Bingo is shouted out by the lucky winner everyone is business like, tossing away their sheet pulling out the next one and all eyes are up on the boards again, there’s no pause, no time for chit chat. After a polite hour of participation we decide the night’s games will last until late and as much as it’s fun we’ve had our experience and we’ve now been going for eight hours solidly on this anthropological tour of NYC and quite frankly a glass of wine is needed.

We travel back to Cathedral City Parkway, it’s now our last stop, at 110th St at the top of Central Park West. We walk along the park through the Upper West Side, the contrast again is incredible, we walk 40 blocks, reach the 70s, spot a wine bar and decide our last challenge is to choose between Pinot Noir and Malbec. The first sip never tasted so good. We started at 11am, it’s now 8pm and we’ve travelled from the East Village to Brooklyn all the way through to Manhattan then all the way up to Harlem and back down to the Upper West Side. We’ve probably done about 12 weeks worth of 26wks experiences in one day and oh what a day it’s been, what a city. Thank-you C line, who knew what gems you had to offer.

ps: big shout out to Gemma who gave me the inspiration for this challenge, thank-you lovely xxx