These ARE the droids you're looking for!

Yesterday I did something awesome.

Yesterday I got a private tour of Lucas Arts.

Yesterday I also signed a non-disclosue agreement, preventing me from saying anything other than this:

It was awesome.

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An Oregon state of mind

You may be wondering how Oregon was.

It was lovely. Damp, but lovely.

And there was turkey, and there was cider, and there was rum, and there was rain.

And beavers.

Oregon.

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Maybe a little bit psychic...

So I went to a psychic in New York.

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.

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.

I chose the standard reading, which included 'two palms and a face'; covering life, money, and love. A summary follows:

- I am supposed to be rich, but something went wrong

- I am a very generous, giving person, though am often misunderstood

- Many of my friends are jealous of me, and actively work against me to impede my success

- I will meet my soul mate soon, and be married in two years

- I will get divorced not long after this

- Three kids (two boys and a girl) are in my future. More than one mother

- I will have everything I want by age 44 (apparently including at least one divorce)

- 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

- I have a very black aura

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.

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.

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.

So Soul Mate, if you're reading this, I apologise that I was too cheap to save our love.
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I got to be a part of it

What better way to farewell the city that never sleeps, by not sleeping?

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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:

The world would be a better place.

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.

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.

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:

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.

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.

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.

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.

New Year in New York, or 'from 0 to 60 in 190 minutes'

If there is one lesson I can take away from this city, it's that two people do not a house party make.

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.

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.

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).

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.

Enter New Years Eve.

1pm my phone rings. It's Rob, wondering why I'm not coming to his house party.

'Because it's not on.'
'Of course it's on. I've told everyone you're coming. They're all excited to meet you.'
'Right. So it's on then?'
'Yes.'
'Okay, we'll be there.'

Rohan and I showed up at Rob's around 9pm, looking awesome.

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).

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:

A little before the countdown Rohan and I met what I have affectionately decided to call 'kiwiphiles' - people who think NZ'ers are awesome.

'You're from NZ?! Stick with me. You won't pay for a drink the whole night!'

Brilliant.

Here are some photos from the evening. Notice the fun times (and slightly drunk friends):

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.

Happy New Year!

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Fairytale of New York (or, so THIS is Christmas!)

Christmas in New York started with ice skating, and ended with cake.

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.

There are many types of Christmas trees in New York. This is Rockefeller's:

This is mine:

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.

I was awesome.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The friends arrived, and so began the feast. Eight hours worth. It was wonderful - much fun, much food, and much wine.

And so ended my Christmas.

On the way home, I saw Isabella Rossellini.