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