An Impulsive Holiday

Last minute. Really last minute. I think I booked my trip about 14 days before flying - a conversation in the canteen at work, an idea sown, money waiting to be spent. Four nights in New York meeting up with a friend on a 2 week stay there.

I packed woolly, expecting biting cold and ice. I packed my running gear, despite being in rehab for a stress fracture. Even a mile run in New York would count as a big tick to me. I packed Cadburys Fruit and Nut for my landlady I found through airbnb,and Weetabix for my friend's ex-pat host.

I flew via Dublin and was treated to the luxury of clearing immigration in Ireland. The full stern American border guard experience but without the queues and hard questions. At least, I thought it was easy. Arrived at jfk and sailed through domestic arrivals.

So began what I expect they call a whistle-stop trip. Met giuseppe at Columbus Circle and followed him, drowsy and wide-eyed, through streets with familiar names. Saw a big Christmas tree, a skating rink, another skating rink. Rode the subway back to Brooklyn and went out, to a benefit for animals affected by Hurricane Sandy. I know, really. It was a friend of a friend situation and it was a real two men and a dog audience. Beers were good though, and ramen was good afterwards. The next day I did my run. I got my 'running in a foreign city' grin out. I didn't care that it was drizzling and I could only run for 20 minutes. I even ran up a small hill and then recklessly down it on dead leaves and mud. Fort Greene Park I salute you.
The next morning was spent excitedly and untidily purchasing tickets to Smashing Pumpkins.
The afternoon was spent mooching around town with the three wiseguys. One, my friend giuseppe - sicilian, photographer, warm and funny, late every time we met. His friends Marc - baby-faced, cheeky and downright dirty, slight stutter, indieboy handsome. And Chris - professional photographer, floppy foppy hair, another indieboy handsome with a need for affirmation a mile wide. We shopped, correction, they shopped, whilst I looked on and gave opinion on coats, jeans, ipads. We never made it to the MOMA due to Chris' marathon coat-buying mission, but I enjoyed it thoroughly. And we all agreed Chris looked great in his new coat.
We arrived at 9 at the immense and shiny-new Barclays arena (yes that Barclays bank) to find the headliners already underway. One ten-dollar beer down and my eyes were heavy. The music was heavy too, so I fended off sleep until the second encore at which point Marc shook me awake. How undignified. I came round enough to walk to the Brooklyn Public House to enjoy a Weihenstephaner weisse and set the world to rights relationship-wise all round the table.
I attempted a lie in then failed. Rockefeller day. Giuseppe had a yen to photograph from the top.  I'll go for that I said, two englishers with vertigo and hangovers on top of a high building, great idea. The fog and drizzle had cleared and the views were amazing. We both held it together, high-fives us. Back home for a power nap and then the hotly anticipated Brooklyn Brewery tour. Brooklyn lager is my absolute favourite beer for any occasion, and giuseppe was curious enough to come along. Walking through Williamsburgh I realised I had seriously missed out on the hipster district, but a mission was underway. The beers we tasted were the brewers choice types. Interesting. We met a couple from Ashton and giuseppe had a small world moment when he realised he'd dated a friend of theirs at college. I bought souvenirs and we drank Sorachi beer and ate jerky. We then headed to little Italy where I got pizza, coffee, pastries and indigestion. And a massive childish hump. I tried to atone for my petulence by buying a ridiculous.expensive round at a craft beer posing joint but that only made my tummy worse. Taxi!

Final day with the wiseguys, who by now were banned by me from speaking in a faux-mobster accent, we met at lunchtime for the MOMA. I have to add that I fit in another 20min turn around the now sunny and bustling park before heading uptown. MOMAs 5th floor collection is a feast of colour and familiar works. I discovered that Munch and Klee's other stuff is very very pleasing, and the waterlilies becalm a room charmingly. The rest does fall into 'modern art' quite firmly. We skimmed through all that guff, and I bid farewell to the boys on 5th avenue.

Beer and burger with my effusive and interesting landlady wrapped up the holiday for me. The only thing left for me to do was walk over the Brooklyn bridge to Lower Manhattan. My final morning dawned another shining crisp day which made it a perfect walk. Battery Park was disappointingly under renovations and the queues for Ground Zero put me off. I walked back, marvelling at the well maintained cycle-and-footway which I totally missed on the outward trip,and had a lovely lunch of soup near my lodgings at the brilliantly-named baguetteaboutit.

I had no preconceived ideas about New York and nothing I really wanted to do, bar run a little and visit the brewery. Manhattan is much like any other city centre but bigger, shinier and too familiar given the amount we see it on tv. New Yorkers are to a man polite and smart-looking, and Brooklyn seems a cool place to live. I felt tired from day 2 onwards, I've never flown west and experienced what one understands to be the worst form of jetlag before. Now I feel super super tired sat at Dublin airport waiting to complete the final leg home. I need a holiday.

Ps I'll put some pictures up on this soon...boarding flight!