Jetlag has does some really odd things to my circadian rythyms. So I’m up at a ridiculous hour again, and reporting on days one and two in NYC. Who needs more than two hours sleep in a row, I ask you?
On the shopping front, Cam has utterly surprised me by throwing himself into it with gusto – It’s like an alternate universe. Yesterday I found myself having to sit down by the changing room to wait and rest up, while he debated whether he should get the 34/32 or the 34/34 size pants. I’ve had to put an embargo on any further jeans purchases, lest he take up all the suitcase space.
Due to the seemingly irreversible jet-lag, we are forced to siesta in the afternoon, and sometimes these siestas last a little longer than anticipated (ah – woops, where’s the daylight gone?). So much to my bewilderment, we’re wide awake and out exploring until the early hours.
We spent Friday night in the East Village, with pre-dinner drinks at Jules Bistro – a Parisian style live jazz bar tucked down underneath the street. Now if you know Cam, you can picture the expression of pure joy on his face, as we drank at the bar and listened to live music. In Manhattan. He went to a little happy place, bless him.
Since then, we’ve ticked off a few other things on our To Do list.
We’ve had two of the best Mexican meals of our lives, at Mayahuel in the East Village and Los Americanos in Tribeca. Thank the dear Lord for Mexican cuisine, in this wheaty city of bagels, pizza and giant pretzels.
Last night we followed a hot tip from a friend and ate fantastic, greasy burgers and fries at 5 Napkin Burger in Hells Kitchen. Unfortunately, a few hours later, I was still clutching my belly and wondering if my heart would thud to a stop from all that lard, as we stared out at Manhattan from the top of the Empire State Building.
And I met a true (and utterly trollied) New Yorker at a bar. She cry-laughed while showing me the text message conversation she was having with a friend. It went something along the lines of: ‘I’m just going through a whore stage right now’, to which the response was ‘Aren’t we all?’
And on that rather profound note, I’ll finish up for now.