tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90373199384086333452024-02-18T23:11:39.053-08:00What I'm doing with my lifeStevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.comBlogger120125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-66630389451392486212010-04-09T02:18:00.000-07:002010-04-09T03:10:26.873-07:00My Trip (part four)<b>London (UK) - four weeks</b><div>Palace, borough market, tube</div><div><br /></div><div>After a ridiculous trip from Amsterdam to London through Paris (the Eurostar broke down about a million times), I finally arrive in London. My tour is now over, and now begins the part of my trip where I really have to start looking after myself. I have to book all my own travel, organise all my own food, and pay for most of my own beer. With every other person in London being either a Kiwi or an Aussie, there was little here to make me feel unique. I end up staying at a good friend of mine (Morgan), who is actually in San Francisco for the first couple of weeks. So I end up hanging out with his flatmate Chris (another Kiwi), who I get on rather well with. My first day is my favourite; I end up visiting the Borough Market under London Bridge (and end up on TV - Market Kitchen). All my foodie dreams come true. </div><div><br /></div><div>I saw Buckingham Palace, many of the touristy sites, and a few shows at the West End (Avenue Q and We Will Rock You being the highlights). I also managed to complete the 'Muffin Man' routine with a complete stranger, which was one of the highlights for my entire trip. I also took the chance to catch up with many of my Kiwi friends, UK friends, and friends/family living in London: Jen, Morgan, CRC, Vee, and Keira. </div><div><br /></div><div>London also saw me starting to work again, so that I could continue to afford my trip. I bought a new suit, went to several meetings, and began the slow and arduous task of boring old policy work from abroad. Okay, some of the work was interesting. But much of it wasn't.</div><div><br /></div><div>Highlights:</div><div>The tube (and the accompanying black snot effect), the Borough Market, getting on TV,<br />Avenue Q, the muffin man, Harrods, endless hands of 500, walking around London, getting incredibly lost, calling the police on my first night, Hyde Park, double decker buses, Oxford Circus, NZ butter cheaper than in NZ, and posing for a photo shoot.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Edinburgh (UK) - four days</b></div><div>Fringe Festival, ghosts, fortune tellers</div><div><br /></div><div>If I was going to go all the way to London, I figured I should probably make the effort and head to Edinburgh, especially during Fringe Season. So I took the train and headed across the land to the kilted heath (not an official slang... okay, so I made it up) and stayed at a stray uncle's house while I took in the sights and sounds of Edinburgh. I quickly learned that (contrary to popular belief) you don't have to be good to get into the Fringe Festival - you just have to have a venue and pay the registration fee. I saw much in the way of average to lame while I was there, including work from the infamously bad "Oxford Drama Society". Yeesh! Princess Cabaret was good fun though (my friend's group), and I also enjoyed hanging out with an old WIT friend Clare. We boozed, and broke up several relationships that week, we did!</div><div><br /></div><div>Also took a ghost tour of the city, and managed to capture some of the wee beasties on film. Or a ball of dust. The jury's still out on that one, I believe.</div><div><br /></div><div>Highlights:</div><div>Ghosts, princesses, porridge, finally getting my fortune read, walking the whole city, getting lost in Edinburgh, taking the train across the country, falling in love with a particular bottle of whiskey, not buying that bottle of whiskey (only to find it again in London), and catching up with old friends.</div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-9789408666638362692010-04-09T01:46:00.000-07:002010-04-09T02:15:48.083-07:00My Trip (part three)<b>Berlin (Germany) - three days</b><div>Basterds, corner-babies, and a wall</div><div><br /></div><div>Bus tour almost over now. By this part of the trip I've started to figure out what most of my tour group are like, and the people I got on with initially have turned out to be douchebags, and the people I thought were most likely douchebags are still douchebags. Still a few decent people remaining on the tour, but they remain to be couples. Thus they tend to keep to themselves for most of the trip, hanging out only at dinner or drinks afterwards. Saw the Wall, went to see Dirty Dancing - the Musical (in German), and took the subway everywhere.</div><div><br /></div><div>Highlights:</div><div>Dirty Dancing, seeing Inglorious Basterds at the cinema, watching my room mate make out with the most annoying girl on the tour, falling asleep during the tour of the Wall (mainly due to the hangover - not the tour itself), the first proper meal with vegetables in over a week, and finding out that the Sony Centre was actually rather lame, and not a 'super shopping centre' as touted in the guide books.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Amsterdam (Holland) - two days</b></div><div>Clogs, dykes, sex shows</div><div><br /></div><div>Last stop on the tour. Saw a live sex show which was quite possibly the least erotic experience of my life. Like any good tourist, I spent a chunk of time wandering around the infamous red light district - only to find that it was a lot more bizarre than I had imagined, while remaining a lot less risque; possibly due to my being desensitized thanks to television. Walked around the city and saw much more than my tour group as a result. I also watched a pair of clogs being made, and explored a cheese factory. Amsterdam is a beautiful city, especially when you get out of the red light district and just explore the area as much as you can. Just make sure you take a map.</div><div><br /></div><div>Highlights:</div><div>Great chips and mayonnaise, watching one of the tour girl vomit all over herself as she tried to impress one of the tour boys, final group dinner, hilarious 'dyke' jokes (they never get old), the Contiki kids following us around and being picked on by the strippers at the live sex show, having to order a new drink from the bar at the live sex show because the curtain on stage brushed across the rim, and having my room mate swap rooms with his mate so that he could shag his cousin.</div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-55279978145528005172010-02-10T01:59:00.000-08:002010-02-10T02:43:01.633-08:00My Trip (part two)<b>Vienna (Austria) - two days</b><div>Coffee, opera, schnitzel, Australians. Many, many Australians.</div><div><br /></div><div>I arrived in Vienna after a brief (one hour) stopover in Riga, Latvia. They have good coffee and chocolate there. In the airport.</div><div><br /></div><div>Vienna was the start of my organised group tour around Europe. Well, part of Europe, anyway.</div><div>I had two hopes for this bus tour:</div><div>1) that it wouldn't be full of old people (you know the kind), and</div><div>2) that it wouldn't be full of Australians (you know the kind).</div><div><br /></div><div>It was full of Australians.</div><div><br /></div><div>Nevertheless, the tour group itself wasn't so bad - and the tour operators (Kevin and Susan) were awesome. I hired a bicycle with one of my tour buddies and cycled around Vienna. Lost patience with my tour group on day two when we argued for an hour about where to go for dinner, I waited five minutes, then went and discovered a free classical music concert.</div><div><br /></div><div>Highlights:</div><div>Sacher Torte, Habsburg Castle, biking around Vienna (and getting a little lost), a giant of a man for a room mate who snored, sneaking lunch from the hotel breakfast buffet, opera, chamber music group, schnitzel, outdrinking the Aussies, buskers that would make our symphony orchestra weep, updating my blog in an internet cafe while sitting next to an old guy looking at porn, and massive slices of pizza for only one euro.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Budapest (Hungary) - two days</b></div><div>Goulash, Goulash, Goulash</div><div><br /></div><div>Starting to get the hang of this bus tour thing by then; well actually it was my first stop on the tour since I started in Vienna. At this point I'm in a bit of a funk. Not quite homesick, but wondering if I'm a little crazy for leaving for so long, and if I'm cut out for all this travel nonsense (spoiler alert: I am). Fell in love with the goulash, and spent most of my time there chasing the dragon. Also bought an Obama russian doll.</div><div><br /></div><div>Highlights:</div><div>Goulash, Obama doll, giant paprika market, homeless elephants, the House of Terror, goulash, beautiful weather, getting stood up in a shopping mall by my snoring roommate, Hungarian Florints, resisting the urge to make "I'm hungry in Hungary" jokes (and failing), not being able to find anybody to read my fortune.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Prague (Czech Republic) - two days</b></div><div>Communism, art purchase, cavemen</div><div><br /></div><div>Prague was fun. Though our hotel was well out of town, it was close to public transport and so we were able to make it into the city well enough to enjoy the sights. The Charles Bridge was awesome, and I took many a blurry photo from it's periphery. Went to a caveman themed (not entirely Prague-ian, but fun) restaurant for dinner where we could only eat with our hands and almost got charged for drinks we didn't order but I drank anyway. Paid instead with a hangover (karma?), and became obsessed with a painting in the hotel lobby.</div><div><br /></div><div>Highlights:</div><div>Making (read: stealing) the riskiest lunch from the hotel breakfast buffet (50 euro fine if caught), the Charles Bridge, buying new sneakers to walk in, cavemen, not getting drunk but getting hungover and throwing up incredibly discretely at 3am, buildings that looked like they were designed by me in a third form graphic design class, and buying a spectacular painting (only to find out that it is a spectacular print). Lovely.</div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-61555538577066063132010-02-04T21:30:00.000-08:002010-02-05T10:08:59.850-08:00My Trip (part one)Okay, so I know it's been a while since my last post. <div><br /></div><div>Maybe it's because I've been getting used to being home, or maybe it's because now that I'm back I'm finding it difficult to write anything. But what I do know is that I have at least one more update in me after this one; a 'now that I've been back in NZ for a month, what is it like?' update. </div><div><br /></div><div>What I thought I'd do today though, is provide a summary of my trip having now finished it with no more trip left in me.</div><div><br /></div><div>So without further ado (any more ado I could not do), here it is:</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Beijing (China) - four days</b></div><div>Great fun, great food, great Wall.</div><div><br /></div><div>I enjoyed Beijing. It was great getting to catch up with my friends (having somewhere to stay also made a heck of a difference!), and culture shock is a very interesting, and I would say effective, way to start a six month trip around the world. Culturally very different, crazy, and a little oppressive. Japanese tourists love me.</div><div><br /></div><div>Highlights:</div><div>Live scorpions on a stick, arguing with a tuk tuk driver about a $40USD fare, discovering the Beijing branch of the Mediterranean Food Warehouse (from Newtown), the Great Wall of China and being followed by the paparazzi (I just want my privacy), eating a fish eye (even if by accident), not being able to see for the pollution.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Stockholm, Uppsala, Fiskebaksil, and Goteborg (Sweden) - Ten days</b></div><div>Ahhh Sweden - home of ABBA, meatballs, and many types of preserved fish.</div><div><br /></div><div>The reason for my trip. Going to watch my good friends Rob and Emma tie the knot in a small fishing village in the south of Sweden showed me what it would be like to live in a postcard. If living in a postcard was the kind of thing you would want to do, or in fact could do. Met a few new people, but did not meet a Swedish wife. More's the shame.</div><div><br /></div><div>Highlights:</div><div>Beautiful Stockholm, the palace, the Madonna concert that I didn't see, meeting ABBA (not the band though), the wedding, meeting Stockholmian improvisors, road trip across the country, Swedish natives, expensive everything that required me to eat at McDonald's and BK more than I wanted, taking a riverboat cruise, and $40 for a load of washing.</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>Copenhagen (Denmark) - Three Days</b></div><div>Even more expensive than Sweden, beautiful people, a mermaid and fairytales.</div><div><br /></div><div>Killing time before my tour started, Copenhagen seemed like the perfect place to spend a few days before surrounding myself with Australians for two weeks. I met a couple of new people, stayed on a random (awesome) guy's couch, and lived on not much more than bread, cheese, McDonald's and BK. And beer.</div><div><br /></div><div>Highlights:</div><div>Hearing a car crash and missing the last bus, a Little Mermaid, getting lost on arrival and walking three kilometres in the wrong direction with my backpack, beautiful buildings and architecture and stuff, Tipoli gardens and open sandwiches (seriously, that's their national dish... a sandwich without a top?), Carlsberg beer and elephants, the crown jewels and all kinds of sunny weather.</div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-59720931360349244572010-01-21T01:51:00.000-08:002010-01-22T17:05:29.777-08:00Things to do in San Francisco, or 'Yay, a new city!'<div>There are many things you can do while in San Francisco. <div><br /></div><div>You can: </div><div>- enjoy some of the finest (read: most expensive) dim sim in the world - (tick)</div><div>- find and devour the best deep dish chicago style pizza you will ever have in your life - (tick)</div><div>- explore Castro, or what I lovingly refer to as 'Rainbow Plaza' - (tick)</div><div>- ride the cable car like a tourist, by hanging off the back and yelling 'Screw you world, I'm riding a cable car like a tourist!' - (yes, tick)</div><div>- bike across the Golden Gate Bridge - (tick... no wait, untick)</div><div>- find and partake in a crazy themed restaurant/bar, such as... oh I don't know, Hooters - (tick)</div><div>- eat at a crab shack - (tick)</div><div>- go to Alcatraz - (tick)</div><div>- take a photo of the Golden Gate Bridge covered in fog - (tick)</div><div>- walk up and down some of the main streets, getting lost - (tick)</div><div>- confront a homeless man about his awful poetry - (tick)</div><div>- see an improv show at BATS - (tick)</div><div>- have a drink at a gay bar - (tick)</div><div>- take photos to prove that you did these things - (tick)</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfFOUeJwKwV8DsJNAldm5mwntB6a2zTaxlJndxP4TjKrtLfCCECv-7gc13FC_M-dAOytOMq7hkhqiVLjWpBMaKNGqDdofeUCJNWrxEaYyA2zk7_pOL7cyJI4IEvRQOHE6SMa-EQiUR2Oc/s1600-h/DSCF5443.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfFOUeJwKwV8DsJNAldm5mwntB6a2zTaxlJndxP4TjKrtLfCCECv-7gc13FC_M-dAOytOMq7hkhqiVLjWpBMaKNGqDdofeUCJNWrxEaYyA2zk7_pOL7cyJI4IEvRQOHE6SMa-EQiUR2Oc/s320/DSCF5443.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429732162267876274" style="cursor: pointer; 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width: 200px; height: 150px; " /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu7N530YjtWkd2Mn46Vs9qKD_7iU_tUyJnVRwtG-hBFppm2nwqBJczjN9WrTJ60_28f6rdXzvtVrIuAUV58aEV_cFWV-D8nIeOHujLSI7nWZts8SM0tUF_kuIfMGH7I1swHofrXX0gTRw/s1600-h/DSCF5396.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu7N530YjtWkd2Mn46Vs9qKD_7iU_tUyJnVRwtG-hBFppm2nwqBJczjN9WrTJ60_28f6rdXzvtVrIuAUV58aEV_cFWV-D8nIeOHujLSI7nWZts8SM0tUF_kuIfMGH7I1swHofrXX0gTRw/s320/DSCF5396.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429732142947708322" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglxqZ5CgMDZWMVONuab_YlNKzTxFpY8hvnwg4y4ni0Fi8aWnVC3rUxG3vYwgA_GQGdLnYp3pMaCkuJsvDH-JP4Rq0_uVtToz2BlG99S43ReOcWkw3puPdxy7lSxvuC4koeX96P8TSkw3c/s1600-h/DSCF5544.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglxqZ5CgMDZWMVONuab_YlNKzTxFpY8hvnwg4y4ni0Fi8aWnVC3rUxG3vYwgA_GQGdLnYp3pMaCkuJsvDH-JP4Rq0_uVtToz2BlG99S43ReOcWkw3puPdxy7lSxvuC4koeX96P8TSkw3c/s200/DSCF5544.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429732926335065202" style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYHTH8UnlbCevQHQE3G2BU8xrNYOKeb109b-o085e6Gh8Rgu2a78j86iHrQPPoh592P_u8hXjzRMnNKINtOA5s_S3hrBwK_gH_qtY6-lRV1YyudetENO5v3uog31CnHObGYre13tKZ6LE/s1600-h/DSCF5404.JPG"></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDQkk1hwtGsoFskCLSU1lrG9ZLCiYZ95JiKBKzgwIi0BR5S5tY7ZlkCpCR2z9hKQMJtyOa8uyhkQXwfutKFcDYwSCwPDqOL8DDPfBd_s-Z_xHLrwCHzJ7hvvnLqqZUX_kFKA-cPlT5pcg/s1600-h/DSCF5421.JPG"></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I've always been a sucker for the 'dead inside' look:</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOGb4WGKS8Q-sl4S5YMDxNEG_YdOjJW4twgbOkl3qA9ksV1PfDoFlsscviRIFcG1L2CTavAXcVmKv2uSDi7ONtFYF6T6JYKLjB6PQH9zV5trJeZV9AXIWfcWm3tttQU8rZYs68qbWU26k/s1600-h/DSCF5471.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOGb4WGKS8Q-sl4S5YMDxNEG_YdOjJW4twgbOkl3qA9ksV1PfDoFlsscviRIFcG1L2CTavAXcVmKv2uSDi7ONtFYF6T6JYKLjB6PQH9zV5trJeZV9AXIWfcWm3tttQU8rZYs68qbWU26k/s200/DSCF5471.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429732913401733346" style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>And I thought they smelled bad on the outside (yes, I'm a nerd)!</div><div> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1EtZefJwCKYBgaMxlyrgERfbM0N4CecmocygQTTuPtmSPBGKMsdxR1I6e3yr5S7sslqveLLGd4VZjhpOTCXhvFreC0PXWJAJUdRyV-tl-wxF0YjAjW7UfC83FGecUgb3YVVW2DbMHusM/s1600-h/DSCF5513.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1EtZefJwCKYBgaMxlyrgERfbM0N4CecmocygQTTuPtmSPBGKMsdxR1I6e3yr5S7sslqveLLGd4VZjhpOTCXhvFreC0PXWJAJUdRyV-tl-wxF0YjAjW7UfC83FGecUgb3YVVW2DbMHusM/s200/DSCF5513.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429733998573509826" style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px; " /></a> </div><div><br /></div><div>My last stop on my trip was certainly a good one. I met a bunch of great people, started the transition back to kiwi life, and gorged myself on Mexican food and deep dish pizza. All that was left to do was make it to the airport to begin the long flight home. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Thank you, San Francisco.</div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhStHkwk4VN41i-ulmOfxVxqF4fRAVq0owBj0W3_57EAh8DQ10rXliCq8ydPmfQLRmtTTnVibM_LfwJIbkbxrHVrz1DVUX18Iw2UOv8k8ehgJyjXIztnGCkxaHw_Qlab5ttRkVCNm1eJyY/s1600-h/DSCF5559.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhStHkwk4VN41i-ulmOfxVxqF4fRAVq0owBj0W3_57EAh8DQ10rXliCq8ydPmfQLRmtTTnVibM_LfwJIbkbxrHVrz1DVUX18Iw2UOv8k8ehgJyjXIztnGCkxaHw_Qlab5ttRkVCNm1eJyY/s200/DSCF5559.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429734007301011954" style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBw6mEU-VjZhrhY4DnDLUYhaTen8Rd4UF1WTnrwDkSAQUU1FUGiGtal1VzrBOfcp4wLyfsWd-CQy09J4kjIqGbmzO3cPZ8xE1ncPHbbvFBJ6RzXO_T9C-cttELGty8Ekt7NaXG3FuQn6A/s1600-h/DSCF5479.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBw6mEU-VjZhrhY4DnDLUYhaTen8Rd4UF1WTnrwDkSAQUU1FUGiGtal1VzrBOfcp4wLyfsWd-CQy09J4kjIqGbmzO3cPZ8xE1ncPHbbvFBJ6RzXO_T9C-cttELGty8Ekt7NaXG3FuQn6A/s200/DSCF5479.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429733988770115410" style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px; " /></a></div></div><div><br /></div></div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-18760046369146320862010-01-19T08:15:00.001-08:002010-01-19T08:33:59.380-08:00Helping with a Transition<div>I learned a few things during my time in San Francisco. One thing I had heard is that it's a lot like Wellington. Here are my reasons why I agree<b>:</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>1. There are many hills, of varying height, walkability, tree saturation, and steepness.</div><div>2. There's a harbour.</div><div>3. The weather likes to play games with you (though appears to be a little kinder to its citizens)</div><div>4. Seagulls steal your food, and</div><div>5. They're a lot more relaxed about life than the other big cities.</div><div><br /></div><div>But more than that, SFC had a very similar vibe to Wellington. Sure, there were a lot of homeless people, the city felt just a little bit dirty at times, and you didn't always feel like it would be a safe place to not wear shoes lest you risk standing on hepatitis, but at the same time there was a cultural vibe to the city that just made you feel like you'd found a place that was worth staying; that didn't have that underground cut-throat survival of the fittest/meanest attitude that New York had. I love New York City, very much, but it will destroy you if you give it a chance. I get the feeling though that San Francisco would give you as many second chances as you'd be willing to take, and that it would never screen its phone calls (even if you've just had a massive fight).</div><div><br /></div><div>Being in a city that was just like Wellington actually proved to be rather helpful I think. It wouldn't be a lie to say that I hadn't been entirely looking forward to returning home and having to go back to work and life and everything in between, but being in SFC really allowed me to remember what it was like back home, and provided a great transition for me to get back to Wellington. It had all the excitement of a new place, but with some of the familiarity of home. In that way, it was really a really good last place to be.</div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-51505874623062767342010-01-15T17:24:00.001-08:002010-01-15T20:11:37.554-08:00Going BATS in San Francisco<div>One of my aims while on my trip was to meet up, hang out, and play with improvisors from around the world. About a year ago I made contact with several improvisors in Sweden, France, the UK and the US, with that very aim. I only managed to connect with Swedish improvisors though, due mainly to the lack of improv over the summer months, and difficulties in contacting people once I was in the country.</div><div><br /></div><div>Until San Francisco, that is.</div><div><br /></div><div>A couple of days before I arrived in the city, I emailed my Facebook contact Rebecca Stockley (from BATS in SF); we had been Facebook friends for around a year, but had never had any conversations since making that connection. This didn't seem to matter though, as I received emails from her and two other SF improvisors within hours of my making contact. Where previously I had not had much luck with improv on my trip, I had now made contact with a group that seemed genuinely excited to hang out and play (and also a place to stay in San Francisco)!</div><div><br /></div><div>I arrived on Saturday evening around 5pm, was picked up by the wonderful Lisa Rowland (an SF improvisor), and went straight to an improv show. I have seen a couple of improv shows during my trip, and they were all rather disappointing. But Saturday's show was from an improv troupe with seemingly similar interests and philosophy - and it was classic theatresports, which was not only a joy to watch, but also to be a part of. Yep, I got to judge the show, which I love to do.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was a fun wee theatresports show: "Rock and Roll Theatresports"; where players get points based on scores from the judges, and also from a giant fluffy dice rolled on stage. There were some awful scenes, some wonderful scenes, and several scenes where the judges, and the audience completely disagreed with each other, and also a couple of scenes where the judges and audience completely disagreed with me. So much fun!</div><div><br /></div><div>Everyone I met was a great deal of fun, and I had a complete blast hanging out with them. It's a shame I wasn't able to join them in a workshop or watch them rehearse, but I guess that's all the more reason to go back.</div><div><br /></div><div>Outside of improv, I got to explore a good chunk of the city. More on that, later.</div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-71824852936541775832010-01-13T10:50:00.001-08:002010-01-13T10:50:28.346-08:00These ARE the droids you're looking for!Yesterday I did something awesome.<p>Yesterday I got a private tour of Lucas Arts.<p>Yesterday I also signed a non-disclosue agreement, preventing me from saying anything other than this:<p>It was awesome.<p>Sent via BlackBerry from T-MobileStevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-60502736058029858422010-01-13T10:00:00.000-08:002010-01-13T09:59:49.259-08:00An Oregon state of mindYou may be wondering how Oregon was.<p>It was lovely. Damp, but lovely.<p>And there was turkey, and there was cider, and there was rum, and there was rain.<p>And beavers.<p>Oregon.<p><br>Sent via BlackBerry from T-MobileStevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-82492551918513391332010-01-11T08:27:00.001-08:002010-01-11T08:27:19.413-08:00Maybe a little bit psychic...So I went to a psychic in New York.<p>These guys are everywhere, and are almost as common as pizza parlours and those 'I love NY' tee shirt sellers. They're easy enough to spot with their neon signs on the street 'psychic readings, $5', and while I had had my tarot read in Edinburgh, I figured I would see how the competition fared.<p>So I found a pizza parlour, washed my hands, and went next door to a psychic. This particular psychic was co located inside a nail salon, in a back room. I entered to find a Jabba-esque woman absorbing her chair, who was suffering from some kind of awake apnoea, and I kept wondering if she would survive the reading or if I'd have to risk my pizza and revive her.<p>I chose the standard reading, which included 'two palms and a face'; covering life, money, and love. A summary follows:<p>- I am supposed to be rich, but something went wrong<p>- I am a very generous, giving person, though am often misunderstood<p>- Many of my friends are jealous of me, and actively work against me to impede my success<p>- I will meet my soul mate soon, and be married in two years<p>- I will get divorced not long after this<p>- Three kids (two boys and a girl) are in my future. More than one mother<p>- I will have everything I want by age 44 (apparently including at least one divorce)<p>- God has blessed me in my life, but somebody cursed my mother by performing black magic against her while she was pregnant with me, by stealing some of her jewellery and burying it in a graveyard. This means that I haven't been as lucky as I should have been, and<p>- I have a very black aura<p>I certainly had no idea that I was supposed to be rich, and especially no idea that my mother had ever had any jewellery stolen. So, wanting to do good by my mum I asked her what could be done.<p>This can be fixed, she said, and the curse against me can be lifted. But it would be expensive - around $450 for nine days' prayer and meditation on my behalf, as well as the lighting of nine candles (one each day). She did advise me not to worry about the money, as once the curse was lifted money would start pouring in and it would be a drop in the bucket of my wealth.<p>I told her I needed to think about it. She advised me to pray on it, in a church. Hey, psychics can be Christians too.<p>So Soul Mate, if you're reading this, I apologise that I was too cheap to save our love.
<br>Sent via BlackBerry from T-MobileStevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-84099269181690405392010-01-08T12:57:00.000-08:002010-01-08T17:32:45.235-08:00I got to be a part of itWhat better way to farewell the city that never sleeps, by not sleeping?<div><br /></div><div>I had spent a little over three months in and around New York, seen many touristy sights and met a tonne of interesting people. I had even made a couple of friends there. So my last few days were spent hanging out with the people I had met, as well as the kiwis that I knew from a previous life.</div><div><br /></div><div>My last day in New York City. Wow, it's kind of a hard thought to process. I mean, what do you do on your last day in a city that's been your home for the last three months? Do you rush around your favourite places again, trying to take it all in before you go? Do you cram in some last minute souvenir shopping because, even after all this time, you still haven't gotten around to getting that 'I [love] NY' t-shirt? Or do you spend it hanging out with the friends you've made, since there's a reasonable chance you may never see them again? </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6m-n2qLBQlcjjzgEQx0X2l7pgEaDbG6AOUBBzzg-YN87tjvXCwt-zwF2Ag8Q1gqzz-9fG-jICtYx8xJaMMtJ6Ac9cOXLtZp0BLG4UGI0ojsBgNyJcI2Hy86eH7Qg5XEyD08iKW-JHQg/s1600-h/DSCF5208.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY6m-n2qLBQlcjjzgEQx0X2l7pgEaDbG6AOUBBzzg-YN87tjvXCwt-zwF2Ag8Q1gqzz-9fG-jICtYx8xJaMMtJ6Ac9cOXLtZp0BLG4UGI0ojsBgNyJcI2Hy86eH7Qg5XEyD08iKW-JHQg/s320/DSCF5208.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424546902958453250" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>If you're me, you think about all these questions only on the day you leave. When you haven't packed. So a good chunk of the morning was spent at the laundromat, and then trying to figure out how I had started my trip with my backpack less than full, only to find that I can barely squeeze everything into two bags (my backpack and a duffel - though to be fair I blame a large chunk of my packing issues on the snuggie). Still, I am fully prepared to acknowledge that bringing home more than I left with is a very acceptable way to return from a trip. My goal though, is to make sure that I can still carry everything on my own, with minimum discomfort. We shall see, however, how well that stacks up.</div><div><br /></div><div>The problem I have, is that my flight to San Francisco was at 7am on the Tuesday morning. This meant that I had to be at the airport by 5am, which meant I had to leave my apartment by 3am. No point going to bed really, so I might as well make a day of it, and not go to sleep until my flight.</div><div><br /></div><div>One of my friends who lives in New York (a kiwi), also works at the United Nations (for New Zealand), and so arranged for me to take a tour of the UN building.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5SFEmzWPnYPIO-4NXm3Oq_Mdvp-nof5X7iEYDHLH7C5zZeRjxGpVN7a6yENuojmL-Wm3hkEnxMVv5RMGeE4In3e9X2Ky3fpftrFn8C75yH6qh2KiZjKq7_hKPpxsvq0OsHfeoWbXcKk4/s1600-h/DSCF5337.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5SFEmzWPnYPIO-4NXm3Oq_Mdvp-nof5X7iEYDHLH7C5zZeRjxGpVN7a6yENuojmL-Wm3hkEnxMVv5RMGeE4In3e9X2Ky3fpftrFn8C75yH6qh2KiZjKq7_hKPpxsvq0OsHfeoWbXcKk4/s320/DSCF5337.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424530080950954898" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a> </div><div><br /></div><div>Nicky was a fantastic tour guide, giving me much of the fun backgroundy stuff that goes on in the UN that you don't get to hear about on the normal tours. Sure, it does mean that I don't get the normal 'this carpet was presented to the UN by Sultan so-and-so', but to be honest... well not so keen on that. This is me representing New Zealand:</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHW9qvUad11y-1RJpjQb9XiIl-64IeA1GgFb_Lt83Ls6S265fXId0Tj_3UZTSRJ5m_MWHaddcH12vOKrhsAKHD0CDq8xyWU9eSK2eNha64bb-OYDu0c9AaJcwyBhfYN6itz0Rx9UiejZI/s1600-h/DSCF5364.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHW9qvUad11y-1RJpjQb9XiIl-64IeA1GgFb_Lt83Ls6S265fXId0Tj_3UZTSRJ5m_MWHaddcH12vOKrhsAKHD0CDq8xyWU9eSK2eNha64bb-OYDu0c9AaJcwyBhfYN6itz0Rx9UiejZI/s320/DSCF5364.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424530092308528386" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The world would be a better place.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">After the tour, I walked once more through Times Square. Not that it's my favourite place in the city by any means. It is however, one of the places in the city that I have spent so much of my time; seeing shows, meeting people, dodging tourists, visiting psychics (oh yes - just wait until I write about that!), and dodgy food carts. Also, it was rush hour, and it was faster for me to walk to the subway through Times Square. Also, and by no means less important, it allowed me to finally purchase a couple of those 'I [love] NY' t-shirts; last minute souvenirs which allow me to tell everybody back home exactly where I've been and how I feel about the place.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Then I went back to my apartment, squeezed my new souvenirs into my backpack, fitting everything in it (except for the jar of marmite I forgot), and sat down to a wonderful roast beef dinner cooked by my room mate. After dinner, my friend Rohan came and picked me up, and so I bade farewell to my apartment and room mates, grabbed my luggage, and took the subway into the city for karaoke.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We dropped off my bags at Rohan's office nearby, then proceeded to Fat Black Pussy Cat for an evening of singing, booze, showing off and more singing. I can tell you now, that we brought it - boy we brought it hard. Our plan was basically to bunk down there for the evening until they kicked us out at 3am, and then head to the airport from there. I opened up the evening with a little Counting Crows, then some Mustang Sally, a few other classics, and finished the evening off with a Total Eclipse of the Heart. Rohan and I sang a few duets, but he also held his own quite well:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzTBR6EDWDzswWKADzc1LS9nJnfDSy2frBbx4GqyHTZmNVj3ZMM9QYUEIixG2iQR-zkLamtvo-pPIgX1qQm' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Also impressive was the karaoke lady host - she had a voice like Christina and Pink put together, and was a lot of fun to sing for, and sing with. We made many friends that night. Mainly because we were awesome, but also mainly because we were very awesome. But also because the people there were as awesome, if not more awesome. A total fun night was had, and was a fitting end to my time in New York City.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">At the end of the 'oke, we made our way to the airport where, four hours later, I would be winging my way to San Francisco, and then connecting to Oregon.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">New York. I've enjoyed my time there, I really have. I do feel as though I have closure there though; no job demanding me to return, I didn't meet the girl of my dreams or get married, and many of my friends are leaving or returning back to NZ soon. As such, while I would love to go back someday, I do not feel like I need to go back in the next few months. That's how I feel now, of course, and that might well change when I get home. But for now, I'm happy having spent the time that I did.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Thank you, New York; we were great together. We had our differences, sure, and we didn't always agree or see eye-to-eye with everything. But we had fun, and let's remember it for that.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvAPMKuw6sDR-5UzGDdUqZitvSDS_S7bWelEqZHRxjNJ0Mz7PWttW35cNcuw-4Ae9e7TNqx9lb8bEebD1W8Q6r13GsdP6BJmvdUMlKjJ0QTuDta_VZMZW-pFPhZqRxt0viTVfYcGBP8f4/s1600-h/DSCF5352.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvAPMKuw6sDR-5UzGDdUqZitvSDS_S7bWelEqZHRxjNJ0Mz7PWttW35cNcuw-4Ae9e7TNqx9lb8bEebD1W8Q6r13GsdP6BJmvdUMlKjJ0QTuDta_VZMZW-pFPhZqRxt0viTVfYcGBP8f4/s320/DSCF5352.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424544882482771874" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-89539956073410070392010-01-04T09:57:00.000-08:002010-01-04T11:04:56.900-08:00New Year in New York, or 'from 0 to 60 in 190 minutes'<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">If there is one lesson I can take away from this city, it's that two people do not a house party make.<br /><br />My New Years started out just like every other in my life. I was preparing for disappointment, but hoping to be pleasantly surprised. People always put too much pressure on the evening to be spectacular, significant, or successful. I just want to stay awake for the count down. Usually I would invite people over for dinner and drinks, and count in the New Year with some good friends and even better wine.<br /><br />This year is a little different, however. Mainly because I am in New York, but also mainly because I don't really know many people in this crazy city, and also mainly because there's it's New York City. My original intention (along with every other tourist in this city) was to watch the ball drop in Times Square. Just to say I did it.<br /><br />Having been here for three months however, spending seven hours surrounded by tourists and unable to move or go to he bathroom, with a high chance of snow, was not so much my idea of a a great night out. I was, in essence, just happy if I could see the New Year in at a party, bar or pub with a bunch of locals (and my friend Rohan).<br /><br />One of my local friends, Rob (who happens to live in Times Square), decided that he would have a party at his apartment - usually a good way to start an evening. Okay, good. Then it's cancelled, with Rob having only invited me. So I make other plans, and decide to spend the evening at a local pub.<br /><br />Enter New Years Eve.<br /><br />1pm my phone rings. It's Rob, wondering why I'm not coming to his house party.<br /><br />'Because it's not on.'<br />'Of course it's on. I've told everyone you're coming. They're all excited to meet you.'<br />'Right. So it's on then?'<br />'Yes.'<br />'Okay, we'll be there.'<br /><br />Rohan and I showed up at Rob's around 9pm, looking awesome. </span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFXPenf7LrPwsHpd5OGTyxbQlpq-2eVihEzmD4YDqDKwWoHsg6NU41-2taAid1n0xoWzxeDjoc5kJHdb0BtXq8N9mAQsZ944xJOQlPEoNvxmuaVE3Bzhx27CcZ3t5avxoSrVIO0QEQBEY/s1600-h/DSCF5257.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFXPenf7LrPwsHpd5OGTyxbQlpq-2eVihEzmD4YDqDKwWoHsg6NU41-2taAid1n0xoWzxeDjoc5kJHdb0BtXq8N9mAQsZ944xJOQlPEoNvxmuaVE3Bzhx27CcZ3t5avxoSrVIO0QEQBEY/s320/DSCF5257.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422950502508027890" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtpjMhXhBhSbXfBOpTfoAwtF-4rnAOw2JyydsaogFsBDaCEKM4mSOdMgfGftbfjxqlwNIsxW2mdJE9b9yj_D0sSVumFJvUmkvzbsxY4smFoqA3FhdM0LPd1hyphenhyphenqmfn7kQd3OpAggGxVCM8/s1600-h/DSCF5256.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtpjMhXhBhSbXfBOpTfoAwtF-4rnAOw2JyydsaogFsBDaCEKM4mSOdMgfGftbfjxqlwNIsxW2mdJE9b9yj_D0sSVumFJvUmkvzbsxY4smFoqA3FhdM0LPd1hyphenhyphenqmfn7kQd3OpAggGxVCM8/s320/DSCF5256.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422951183773175842" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></a></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This night was going to rock, and then we showed up to the apartment. Rob was there, with his friend. And nobody else. They were sitting there on the couch, drunk and a little stoned, watching Terminator 2. Wasn't perhaps the best start of the evening. We sat down (30 minutes), waited for Rob to get dressed (30 minutes to put on a jacket), went to 7-11 to get Rob a hot dog (20 minutes).</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">We finally went to a bar - a dead bar - at about 10.30. Half an hour there, and I had enough. Rohan and I got up, said goodbye to everyone, and left. We hopped outside, and into a taxi, and headed to a bar around the corner from my apartment. One $20 cover charge later, and we were in a bar full of people (but not too many), counting in the New Year in style. One guy got angry when his girlfriend started talking to me (I can't help it if you're boyfriend's a douche, hon), but for the most part, the folks at the bar were cool; such as this guy. If Reverend Al Sharpton and Willy Wonka had a child:</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Nz22NZ3urswQ8b_uqJlJBzvICXYjEwiFM3PsKX_KfW_hlydyI8pGRx0HDkoyZLILZA5dcJKLhdl0ze6sfVpOaJhuIWciGz_bLnmgVDxv9MELnu6_oFOrkcO2Q4_Qe6BI0tRWDDwArtg/s1600-h/DSCF5312.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Nz22NZ3urswQ8b_uqJlJBzvICXYjEwiFM3PsKX_KfW_hlydyI8pGRx0HDkoyZLILZA5dcJKLhdl0ze6sfVpOaJhuIWciGz_bLnmgVDxv9MELnu6_oFOrkcO2Q4_Qe6BI0tRWDDwArtg/s320/DSCF5312.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422959831657134242" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A little before the countdown Rohan and I met what I have affectionately decided to call 'kiwiphiles' - people who think NZ'ers are awesome.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">'You're from NZ?! Stick with me. You won't pay for a drink the whole night!'</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Brilliant.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Here are some photos from the evening. Notice the fun times (and slightly drunk friends):</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibt8iJ7672Y25zfUQXRpxN_lhcmzTsUBxTfmu4qkzEc_4E_tZ_y6Tu4zVBTWPB6OpzJOpycD4PAukeTihzOywpFrO3NcDXbvQ1TCXbSFC8w_C6aKf4LYymoSQXi9OojAsY6rRDX__v-ds/s1600-h/DSCF5318.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibt8iJ7672Y25zfUQXRpxN_lhcmzTsUBxTfmu4qkzEc_4E_tZ_y6Tu4zVBTWPB6OpzJOpycD4PAukeTihzOywpFrO3NcDXbvQ1TCXbSFC8w_C6aKf4LYymoSQXi9OojAsY6rRDX__v-ds/s320/DSCF5318.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422962485300705874" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_aZnmlbp6q8GEAI11hwJl3aLEGyLgzXAdAcNws4gjQ1e3btiqV8C8yppyOp4B9q84uU_9kXcq7vdGnkpKzTeryXdreDNIXuAQyCahDKpacz519au37bUVUS2y0-R7djBuiDENpHEdQOg/s1600-h/DSCF5311.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_aZnmlbp6q8GEAI11hwJl3aLEGyLgzXAdAcNws4gjQ1e3btiqV8C8yppyOp4B9q84uU_9kXcq7vdGnkpKzTeryXdreDNIXuAQyCahDKpacz519au37bUVUS2y0-R7djBuiDENpHEdQOg/s320/DSCF5311.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422962473630877634" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl5AgT_gl_so-Z2wDh76xtxDPCXLE0zpqoTHEdQIO0h1N8gzk_b43jIVWAL4U5BflQUARQkM86V9kUbhCK2OgfYTzNYijXNgFce_Se906CY_PX88dHstCsNkKphJAciBE96b8G1odlcNw/s1600-h/DSCF5285.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl5AgT_gl_so-Z2wDh76xtxDPCXLE0zpqoTHEdQIO0h1N8gzk_b43jIVWAL4U5BflQUARQkM86V9kUbhCK2OgfYTzNYijXNgFce_Se906CY_PX88dHstCsNkKphJAciBE96b8G1odlcNw/s320/DSCF5285.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422962466777547506" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0vqizIQPiOoCBA1Pv3fOKm00lmbxxqeH2gYg6k2Vte9GyXMB0Dr1dakTkoYrh4DyNBt8LYGRsZ-AEBFVpWVOOwGsyDfoedI0xffWXEKH9YwmhyGAlBO1tOLH7NTOsCLM1E7TgnbE5QLA/s1600-h/DSCF5279.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0vqizIQPiOoCBA1Pv3fOKm00lmbxxqeH2gYg6k2Vte9GyXMB0Dr1dakTkoYrh4DyNBt8LYGRsZ-AEBFVpWVOOwGsyDfoedI0xffWXEKH9YwmhyGAlBO1tOLH7NTOsCLM1E7TgnbE5QLA/s320/DSCF5279.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422962457429786642" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We drank, we partied, we drank some more. The night ended at 3am, with me paying two strangers $20 to help carry my friend home. In the end, a memorable New Years.</div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-36611339137195216062010-01-01T09:47:00.000-08:002010-01-01T09:49:03.125-08:00Happy New Year!<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfj1jtQVoYW4YPq4nBCEYtpTCzGH8Vnl-_6Mqo0m6dARdXk1HY9kImAlxuUrssPpbs1wvDeAPoBxS0hNB76COVGdv2d8qNBQo340bUnOdqdMv9dOmig-GkFOvuBy3JaUQU78ou4Wda28w/s1600-h/=%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAxODctMjAxMDAxMDEtMTI0Ny5qcGc=%3F=-743127"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfj1jtQVoYW4YPq4nBCEYtpTCzGH8Vnl-_6Mqo0m6dARdXk1HY9kImAlxuUrssPpbs1wvDeAPoBxS0hNB76COVGdv2d8qNBQo340bUnOdqdMv9dOmig-GkFOvuBy3JaUQU78ou4Wda28w/s320/=%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAxODctMjAxMDAxMDEtMTI0Ny5qcGc=%3F=-743127" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421829892215892386" /></a></p>Sent via BlackBerry from T-MobileStevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-32290302912523875892009-12-29T08:01:00.000-08:002009-12-29T09:18:28.028-08:00Fairytale of New York (or, so THIS is Christmas!)Christmas in New York started with ice skating, and ended with cake.<div><br /></div><div>The Rockefeller Tree, outlandish decorations, snow, people in puffy North Face jackets and ugg boots (okay, EVERY New Yorker has North Face jackets and ugg boots - what's up with that?), Christmas with the Rockettes, sales, throngs of people everywhere, magical window displays, and a Christmas miracle or two (preferably a lottery win). This was one of the defining moments of my trip - insofar as that I had planned most of my trip around being here over Christmas and New Years, which basically restricted my travel to a similar extent as my lack of paid US employment had.</div><div><br /></div><div>There are many types of Christmas trees in New York. This is Rockefeller's:</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXsEJBnJM06g7_H7N16WLCUPasZvI6DFLLebyVdgW8EaAKq2WaIqM109_laExBVlv4FTQYwaABc73KxwjydJYH0DCUcChlgN6RkNMKSjaQCb-3H1HXXS3RkzDRRWikpXjSGCKy5X28_5Y/s1600-h/IMG00133-20091217-1659.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXsEJBnJM06g7_H7N16WLCUPasZvI6DFLLebyVdgW8EaAKq2WaIqM109_laExBVlv4FTQYwaABc73KxwjydJYH0DCUcChlgN6RkNMKSjaQCb-3H1HXXS3RkzDRRWikpXjSGCKy5X28_5Y/s320/IMG00133-20091217-1659.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420708654995692498" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>This is mine:</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtqHfy2BEfKXzdzY9hVMSrlF-qNlAKF6ECmYWtHffmBb1z33coqa0HNI9KuWIWxm2hZSV9q4up4N10Tqbr93E4WlQW27ZWUKkddGw7OGXwx5MoAujzMUpxKFCJr8IAe6mntpEh91TGJnQ/s1600-h/IMG00170-20091229-1157.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtqHfy2BEfKXzdzY9hVMSrlF-qNlAKF6ECmYWtHffmBb1z33coqa0HNI9KuWIWxm2hZSV9q4up4N10Tqbr93E4WlQW27ZWUKkddGw7OGXwx5MoAujzMUpxKFCJr8IAe6mntpEh91TGJnQ/s320/IMG00170-20091229-1157.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420705843613452146" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The day started off with ice skating at Bryant Park, something I've wanted to do since they opened a couple of months ago. It's free to skate there (though you have to hire skates if you don't have your own), and so I had arranged to meet up with my friends Tai and Nicky (kiwis), and their two year old daughter Evie for a couple of laps before we gorge ourselves on ridiculous amounts of food. I got there a couple of hours early (or they were a couple of hours late - depends on your perspective, I suppose), and donned my $12 pair of ice skates (solid blue plastic), gambled with leaving my shoes etc in an unlocked locker, and entered the rink.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrInQnASRfxqxd-Wthb3Xe7SlwUZHpm6GrvJ1koF8SJ5UQD_3-D2yQNa4WOUBRv1jgBolW8HO015XdgZyWqKmqnqPszIR7p6_gSwhHesPDtjo4cgk7I1gtdPQnlZcHPMeMYEd-IPI0X8g/s1600-h/IMG00166-20091225-1033.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrInQnASRfxqxd-Wthb3Xe7SlwUZHpm6GrvJ1koF8SJ5UQD_3-D2yQNa4WOUBRv1jgBolW8HO015XdgZyWqKmqnqPszIR7p6_gSwhHesPDtjo4cgk7I1gtdPQnlZcHPMeMYEd-IPI0X8g/s320/IMG00166-20091225-1033.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420705458697374658" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I was awesome.</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, I didn't fall over. Ice skating is just like roller blading. But since no straight guy has roller bladed since 1997, I was concerned that my first foray onto the ice would result in an ungainly double twist/splits combo. Fortunately New York was spared the wonder of my gymnastic dexterity, and so I managed to skate a couple of laps around the ice, along with the 250 others who had decided that opening Christmas with skating, and not gifts, was the way to spend the holiday. And yeah, I'd have to agree with them. At first I was a little unsteady on my feet - the ice was a tad bumpy and hadn't been cleaned for several hours (they use a zamboni to 'clean' it... a giant ice tractor which I would certainly not wish to be trampled by), but I soon found my ice-legs and was away. </div><div><br /></div><div>My friends arrived a while later and we enjoyed a few laps, but by then it was difficult to do anything more complicated than follow a group in a slow rotation around the rink, much like primary school swimming pools when you used to try and make a whirlpool. I always did that, and then would just let the water drift me towards the middle - that was rather cool. Difficult to do that with ice though, so after a couple of laps we retired back to my friends' house for presents and lunch.</div><div><br /></div><div>There was still some snow around the place from the weekend before, but it was by now rather grey and dirty and gross. So not a White Christmas, but a cold and 'might-as-well-be-a-White Christmas-anyway' Christmas, so that was nice.</div><div><br /></div><div>We took a cab back to the apartment, where we started getting things ready for the lunch. My friends were having other kiwi friends over for lunch, so it would be a little taste of home during the holidays. I helped by setting up a toy train set, complete with death traps and dead-ends. Some of my best work, I think.</div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIJh7NMQtL0X-CosmiHRd1ThzWN9G6FUkFsAry0Kfxrivc0uZkUK9E2Flh98dN7YyeNzLd_Yk36wNb9-hveI3iB55Vgd9Fhp_wm4P3NntuAVgaOfOiIjpKlE9twrMs4MvcKP3UO5A5_oY/s1600-h/IMG00167-20091225-1343.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIJh7NMQtL0X-CosmiHRd1ThzWN9G6FUkFsAry0Kfxrivc0uZkUK9E2Flh98dN7YyeNzLd_Yk36wNb9-hveI3iB55Vgd9Fhp_wm4P3NntuAVgaOfOiIjpKlE9twrMs4MvcKP3UO5A5_oY/s320/IMG00167-20091225-1343.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420705846038019490" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div>The friends arrived, and so began the feast. Eight hours worth. It was wonderful - much fun, much food, and much wine.</div><div><br /></div><div>And so ended my Christmas.<br /><br /></div><div>On the way home, I saw Isabella Rossellini.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcRm0W0_KkNRgNNEDBXmTkA68fz99mDxziecAKewzJhmIEdH5eUkEZ5BPNMSteU8SjHerZ_8HZ3LkunclsVLtw3h_ed_4oNErx2nFwdA-pyBqXLZQ2fPBwSMJiERLCPrVFR4e7fIRLAYY/s1600-h/IMG00147-20091217-1856.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcRm0W0_KkNRgNNEDBXmTkA68fz99mDxziecAKewzJhmIEdH5eUkEZ5BPNMSteU8SjHerZ_8HZ3LkunclsVLtw3h_ed_4oNErx2nFwdA-pyBqXLZQ2fPBwSMJiERLCPrVFR4e7fIRLAYY/s320/IMG00147-20091217-1856.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420705850913978866" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div> </div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-55125678729916234902009-12-27T11:04:00.001-08:002009-12-27T11:04:49.472-08:00In the Nix (in the NYC)I just met an American wearing a Wellington Phoenix jersey, but he wouldn't let me take his photo.<p>So you'll just have to take my word for it.<br>Sent via BlackBerry from T-MobileStevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-60111006262742248352009-12-22T09:11:00.000-08:002009-12-22T10:27:30.603-08:00Walking in a Winter WonderlandI had hoped for a cold Christmas, and possibly even a little snow. New York gave me a blizzard.<br /><br />Okay, so it wasn't quite snow over Christmas (since it's still a few days away), but it's a good enough dumping to see what it would be like to live in a city where it snows. Yes, I know how naive that sounds. I'm not pretending it's not. Still, it's all rather exciting to see it.<br /><br />It started Friday morning, when I was watching Fox News (Fair & Balanced) - and along came a 'Breaking News Alert' which advised that the entire East Coast would be in for a blizzard over the weekend, resulting in a massive dumping of snow on Saturday. Much fear would be had by this snow, and the rest of the show would be dedicated to the impact of the snow on the economy. I, on the other hand, was more than a little bit excited. Yes, I have seen snow before, but only on a mountain, and it's not really the same when you're surrounded by snow, and all you can see is white anyway, to only see more white being dumped everywhere.<br /><br />But this is New York - I've seen this city at its most vibrant, its most colourful, and its most full on 'move over or I'll stab you' crazy. How would this look completely covered in snow, and how would this affect my dinner plans on Saturday?<br /><br />I live in the suburb of Morningside, New York City. It's located in the upper west side, near Columbia University and before Harlem, so is considered a rather neat area. It really is. Okay, so there aren't a great range of shops around - many deli, nail salon and cheap mattress accessory shop. But there are also many neat little restaurants, cafes, eateries and bars around here too - which makes enjoying the area exciting, and also expensive. But I'm only in New York once, right?<br /><br />So Saturday night I arranged to go out with a friend for dinner to a nifty little French restaurant, which for the sake of this post I will call 'Nifty Little French Restaurant'. I was particularly looking forward to this, as<br /><br />a) I like going out for dinner,<br />b) They had a fixed menu early bird discount dinner - three courses for $25 (approx $800 NZD, inc tax and tip).<br /><br />As I left my apartment to go and meet my friend, I noticed that it had started to snow. Only a little bit, the kind that you see on "A Charlie Brown Christmas" - snowflakes gently falling down. Snowflakes gently floated down from the sky onto carolers on the street, and everywhere people stopped to look up, and marvel at what was going on. Lovely, right?<br /><br />Okay, so that's what I wanted to happen. What it was actually like was a little more miserable.The snow started gently enough at around 1pm. By 1.30 it was raining sideways snow bullets in a way that reminded me of a normal day in Wellington (except with snow instead of rain). By the time the evening rolled by the blizzard had subsided somewhat (still with the snow, but less with the booming face-lashingness of it all), and the city was blanketed in a thick layer of crisp white snow, 10 inches deep.<div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3TDC1IkfDa0_L6jek3JNPBja-Te0a07udUzkMq9xb3Z_pTeKL9ym9xAutlZqlxWeyEe4u3gXUYG4sVMeXsFUroedk4xxLjpxh-ix40yat1H5GigBZyrPVbQRbJZUmK9DOS_F6TeMIn_E/s1600-h/IMG00160-20091220-1344.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3TDC1IkfDa0_L6jek3JNPBja-Te0a07udUzkMq9xb3Z_pTeKL9ym9xAutlZqlxWeyEe4u3gXUYG4sVMeXsFUroedk4xxLjpxh-ix40yat1H5GigBZyrPVbQRbJZUmK9DOS_F6TeMIn_E/s320/IMG00160-20091220-1344.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418127021908792578" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoT7_fo2TMANC3c6NjymJt47cbr5sziteNYVok2iq5sdMQh01cT2LjhO6xqzhcybFIAv1u01rQZmgbGGDmkDDON7ua43NNGBaGlAafgwDAXcIvh8FB_9uXImHi2o_P857CA9-iqGtFDgU/s1600-h/IMG00161-20091220-1344.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoT7_fo2TMANC3c6NjymJt47cbr5sziteNYVok2iq5sdMQh01cT2LjhO6xqzhcybFIAv1u01rQZmgbGGDmkDDON7ua43NNGBaGlAafgwDAXcIvh8FB_9uXImHi2o_P857CA9-iqGtFDgU/s320/IMG00161-20091220-1344.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418127017283314370" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTCABwZj4EFvyo0fJ6sT8-DEuBCeSFVEx13CK_Gvxg4g9tmWDy4iEhQVWnOO1dw3p4HtHG4rOkjAs-dGUimAM_9b_OO_xvwQyZ1O4OLeohVKWMFr08vSFwsVGLpnruZbJI_lF9w7_nXcg/s1600-h/IMG00158-20091219-2349.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTCABwZj4EFvyo0fJ6sT8-DEuBCeSFVEx13CK_Gvxg4g9tmWDy4iEhQVWnOO1dw3p4HtHG4rOkjAs-dGUimAM_9b_OO_xvwQyZ1O4OLeohVKWMFr08vSFwsVGLpnruZbJI_lF9w7_nXcg/s320/IMG00158-20091219-2349.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418125996531889442" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><br />I will admit to being a little like a kid at Christmas at this point. I was running around in my puffy jacket, gloves and beanie, trying to catch snowflakes on my tongue and make snowballs, no doubt embarrassing my dinner date to no end.<br /><br />So, snow on day one is pretty awesome. Snow on days two, three and four, however... not so much. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've seen taxis skidding on the street, narrowly avoiding pedestrians. I've been a victim of 'fake footpath', where the ground appears to be solid concrete, only to be melty snow slush the same colour of solid concrete - not nice when you plunge your foot into that! Not least though, snow after day one loses much of its magic and lustre, and quickly becomes various shades of yellow, brown, or pink, and full of litter and other junk.</div><div><br /></div><div>But I don't let it get me down. I got to see snow in New York City. I'm happy.</div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-32399565011014278992009-12-16T14:00:00.001-08:002009-12-16T14:00:30.885-08:00Of Statues and Sunsets<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-hcXckSYhGaJNJeY9XBzp1QvhMZwWtdmDQyUEGxCKbH0PXfkzuKe9Yad3QwcYcmgMojqkP-aSPNcv2N5nyALzYedayvJlrLrDtMQTwqF4Md_UeeQqWJcpjls0FKwcokmKHSK_O_J35nM/s1600-h/=%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAxMjktMjAwOTEyMTYtMTY1OC5qcGc=%3F=-730887"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-hcXckSYhGaJNJeY9XBzp1QvhMZwWtdmDQyUEGxCKbH0PXfkzuKe9Yad3QwcYcmgMojqkP-aSPNcv2N5nyALzYedayvJlrLrDtMQTwqF4Md_UeeQqWJcpjls0FKwcokmKHSK_O_J35nM/s320/=%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAxMjktMjAwOTEyMTYtMTY1OC5qcGc=%3F=-730887" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415957332441627954" /></a></p>Sent via BlackBerry from T-MobileStevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-59945672537534718002009-12-15T15:30:00.000-08:002009-12-15T15:31:58.776-08:00The crazy that is Times Square<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_gK6EC_VluLPGKY6D6wkdASEZwHWCVum6-cSdodwnfO5Zlu3x_f5s2FJRGBNMdb4WacXx_-J9-aRurEt4P4LfOZf9FN8wRQ8GlcDeO1IDsKUc1Xj0wrto9GLhyphenhyphenIayMGFdz59syDICnNA/s1600-h/=%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAxMTUtMjAwOTEyMTUtMTgyOS5qcGc=%3F=-718777"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_gK6EC_VluLPGKY6D6wkdASEZwHWCVum6-cSdodwnfO5Zlu3x_f5s2FJRGBNMdb4WacXx_-J9-aRurEt4P4LfOZf9FN8wRQ8GlcDeO1IDsKUc1Xj0wrto9GLhyphenhyphenIayMGFdz59syDICnNA/s320/=%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAxMTUtMjAwOTEyMTUtMTgyOS5qcGc=%3F=-718777" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415609813905949426" /></a></p>Sent via BlackBerry from T-MobileStevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-50386617429788156862009-12-12T15:48:00.000-08:002009-12-12T21:16:08.915-08:00New York, New Yorkers, and No WorkThere's a lot that can be said about New York City.<br /><br />Of course, it would be impossible to talk about this city without first mentioning the people. I love New York as a city, but I think that I love New Yorkers more. When one thinks of a 'typical New Yorker', most times you'll think of very busy, rushed pedestrians, trying very hard not to be delayed from getting where they're going. I was prepared to be exposed to a people that are rude, arrogant, and opinionated. That's the impression I had got from television, and some friends and family.<br /><br />But I was wrong.<br /><br />New Yorkers aren't rude, they're focused. There is so much going on in this city with all the lights, signs, homeless people, pan handlers, people handing out fliers for the latest musical/play/charity event, that in order to survive in this city you really need to just put your blinkers on and focus on getting from A to B. Otherwise you risk suffering information overload in a city full of stimuli (and tourists).<br /><br />The thing that has actually really impressed me about New Yorkers though, is that they are genuinely very helpful, even to tourists. If you ask for help, or if they see you struggling, they will go out of their way to make sure you know where you're going, and what you need to do to get there. New Yorkers are, in fact, the friendliest and most helpful people I have met on this trip so far. Without their help, I would have been seriously lost and confused for much longer than I have been.<br /><br />It may also have something to do with my accent. I have certainly noticed that having a New Zealand accent has done me many favours in terms of making friends, getting assistance, or even a girl's phone number. I don't know quite what it is about it exactly, as New York is so full of tourists and immigrants that it can't be the exoticness of it. But I don't ask questions of something that works so well in my benefit (Your Honour), and so I just enjoy the extra attention. I have been told however that I sound more British than Kiwi, and tell me that I certainly don't have a typical NZ accent. Since I haven't met too many kiwis in NY (other than the ones I already knew) I can only assume that they mean that I don't sound like the Flight of the Conchords. Thank you, Bret and Jemaine.<br /><br />I am making friends too. I'm not meeting as many people as I would have liked, which I believe is largely due to my only just moving to the city, and also with not having been able to find a job. I think that there have been opportunities for work here - I could have possibly worked in a bar, or handing out fliers, or some such. But my goal for NY was to get a job that would complement my job back home, or would utilise my skills or whatever I have to make a difference. I know that sounds wanky, but I realised a while ago that I really am a public sector employee, and that I most likely wouldn't be happy working in the private sector. <br /><br />And so I made a conscious decision not to work in the service industry, as although I would possibly have made a fair bit of money (esp given that people tip rather generously during Christmas etc), I wanted a job on principal, not just to make money. This has ended up nearly killing me financially, since I'm still having to spend NZD in a country where the dollar keeps changing its mind every day. Couple this with the fact that my job back home has been rather temperamental in paying me, means that my visa card is getting a bit of a hammering! At least I get air points... <br /><br />Despite all my love for this city, I am starting to see how it could destroy me. Completely and utterly chew me up and spit me out. This is certainly a city which can make you feel isolated and anonymous, unless you can find a way to balance that out somehow with active social networks or some kind of creative outlet. Which is something I haven't really developed here yet, though to be honest I think most of the blame for that lies with me, since I haven't made the effort to make many social connections here outside of a few key friends in the city. Still no luck with the improv either. Shame, but the groups I have seen here are all rather average. I'm hoping to check out at least one other group before I go (Asskat and PIT), but we'll see how that works out. <br /><br />There is a lot that can be said about New York City. I love it here, but life here requires constant care and vigilance. We shall see how this goes.Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-40865141988018692672009-12-08T22:01:00.000-08:002009-12-09T11:23:21.308-08:00What made me famousBack in August (London) I visited the happiest place on Earth - the Borough Market. There I somehow made it to television. Here is the link to my very embarrassing debut.<br /><br />http://www.miroguide.com/items/2613112<br /><br />Guess I wasn't really ready for my close-up after all.Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-45753456407419176602009-12-07T12:42:00.001-08:002009-12-09T10:56:39.938-08:00Hooray!One of my goals for New York was to get a job. Another goal was to watch a live taping of The Daily Show. The former I have as yet been unable to achieve. The latter though, I'm achieving as I write this.<br /><br />Right now I'm standing in line on 11th avenue between 51 and 52 streets, waiting to see the funniest daily talk show on tv. I love this guy, I mean I was excited to see Letterman because he's famous. But I'm excited to see Jon Stewart because he's hilarious!<br /><br />I've decided that since it's now very unlikely that I will be staying in this city past January 5, that I'm now just going to make the most of this city while I can. I plan on seeing at least one Broadway show a week, and I still have to get to the Statue of Liberty.<br /><br />My 'job' is a complete bust, through (and I feel I can say this honestly) no fault of my own. I was completely ready, willing and able to jump into that project, but it's hard enough a project to do on its own, let alone when nobody shows up to the office! Still, I met a couple of people through the 'project', so I guess it can't have been a complete waste of time.<br /><br />But I'm happy. The weather is starting to get really cold, and may possibly snow today. I'm standing in line to see somebody I genuinely admire, and I have a pretty cool apartment (thanks to my handy earplug investment).<br /><br />But there is a kind of peace to knowing that I'm not going to stay past January. Now I can stop looking up jobs online, stop getting down that I haven't had a single interview since I got here, and finally take some time to enjoy the city that I'm now living in. <br /><br />Well, for another month, anyway.Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-39958358191730325872009-12-06T12:10:00.001-08:002009-12-09T10:56:16.363-08:00When cowboys go wrong<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkRiMTlTMBojnx-4mdV-FK0dPRe-9aeoHyT5v5EqCqEiz53erpy2MqMWBaToN1msCRQ4l1YZr2ufmvXw4RsU0vduyukjcCC6FZR1AT8oeDLIqeme9UiU7m44C_ehyphenhyphen4DabIZrSKOOek4PM/s1600-h/=%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAwOTctMjAwOTEyMDYtMTUwOS5qcGc=%3F=-755157"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkRiMTlTMBojnx-4mdV-FK0dPRe-9aeoHyT5v5EqCqEiz53erpy2MqMWBaToN1msCRQ4l1YZr2ufmvXw4RsU0vduyukjcCC6FZR1AT8oeDLIqeme9UiU7m44C_ehyphenhyphen4DabIZrSKOOek4PM/s320/=%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAwOTctMjAwOTEyMDYtMTUwOS5qcGc=%3F=-755157" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412218234731684146" /></a></p>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-10267566858694365532009-12-05T22:42:00.000-08:002009-12-05T22:44:41.768-08:00The biggest slice of pizza I have seen in my entire life. I kid you not.<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinRPyuR-gicPATvsza2Oc8Nxfm06ZudIuFNXpKEGUyja6xWyO71bRqm7b6qYW19ZPxwjuBGVCh6THbFhCtsKYwOBuY-cByv00J_GTFbAJEt6kBCVd6oN-GMfM3NvQNFXL9BdOfCxkHFj8/s1600-h/=%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAwOTQtMjAwOTEyMDYtMDE0MC5qcGc=%3F=-781769"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinRPyuR-gicPATvsza2Oc8Nxfm06ZudIuFNXpKEGUyja6xWyO71bRqm7b6qYW19ZPxwjuBGVCh6THbFhCtsKYwOBuY-cByv00J_GTFbAJEt6kBCVd6oN-GMfM3NvQNFXL9BdOfCxkHFj8/s320/=%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAwOTQtMjAwOTEyMDYtMDE0MC5qcGc=%3F=-781769" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412010470612883794" /></a></p>See?!<p>Sent via BlackBerry from T-MobileStevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-51815475732674577632009-12-05T13:32:00.000-08:002009-12-05T13:34:06.904-08:00This is probably better<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOmZrOv-_vpAJSFb2w8hY1AhhugxBolTKCw3MZRZXOfUTXFeJ78D0WrYXKXeD9K7BQccLPmBddtPhENmMnUYaO8ppupXhSebIS5bz6wTWKBeoFB2X7GmzS2akYNOhZgxVtpC6KHwKNDIU/s1600-h/=%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAwOTAtMjAwOTEyMDUtMTYzMS5qcGc=%3F=-746905"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOmZrOv-_vpAJSFb2w8hY1AhhugxBolTKCw3MZRZXOfUTXFeJ78D0WrYXKXeD9K7BQccLPmBddtPhENmMnUYaO8ppupXhSebIS5bz6wTWKBeoFB2X7GmzS2akYNOhZgxVtpC6KHwKNDIU/s320/=%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAwOTAtMjAwOTEyMDUtMTYzMS5qcGc=%3F=-746905" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411868587587462882" /></a></p>Snow wise, I mean<br>Sent via BlackBerry from T-MobileStevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9037319938408633345.post-19862659437619947812009-12-05T13:24:00.000-08:002009-12-05T13:28:20.219-08:00Snow!<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizRSaeVNrQmWhUUUIt7AjsxlT0H6J67sHe8kl5cH9QPuwfpHTPu8GteF8Rgbkv_csK7nNOqBhfJU-8RStNuuL3HjQ53mvfU2uCSbv7_zMiNOxDQRHIkqkf8NqasDO2-vvp8nj6udGHzeQ/s1600-h/=%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAwODgtMjAwOTEyMDUtMTYyMy5qcGc=%3F=-700220"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizRSaeVNrQmWhUUUIt7AjsxlT0H6J67sHe8kl5cH9QPuwfpHTPu8GteF8Rgbkv_csK7nNOqBhfJU-8RStNuuL3HjQ53mvfU2uCSbv7_zMiNOxDQRHIkqkf8NqasDO2-vvp8nj6udGHzeQ/s320/=%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAwODgtMjAwOTEyMDUtMTYyMy5qcGc=%3F=-700220" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411867098919482402" /></a></p>And now it's snowing!!<p>A little bit, at least.<br>Sent via BlackBerry from T-MobileStevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04777717659281988283noreply@blogger.com0