Revolution, Liberation, Precipitation

The Freedom Trail is a great walk through Boston, touring around all the historical sites that were significant to the birth of this nation. After walking it today I feel a real sense of the American psyche. I feel liberated.

And saturated. Probably more saturated.

Boston's a really pretty city, and I am definitely glad that I extended my stay here (despite the inclement weather).

iPod with my little ears...

Every playlist and song that is on my own iPod.

Weird... All the bars in America seem to be playing the exact same music that I left back on my iPod at home.

I hope someone is firing that thing up every now and then.

In other news

Its raining. And I don't have a coat.

:-(

Edit: I bought an umbrella.
It broked.
I bought a raincoat.
I'm still soaked.

Revision

Just booked myself in for an extra night in Boston. This place is really pretty, and there is plenty to see!

I am also now a proud member of the Boston Public Library. Beautiful building.

Free internet.

And so begins the poverty...

News post

This was a country built on railroads. I thought I might explore a few.

Current itinerary:

27th Apr - New York to Boston
29th/30th Apr - Boston to Chicago
5th May - Chicago to St Louis
6th May - St Louis to Chicago
7th May - Chicago to Washington
9th/10th May - Washington to New York


Then its time to go roadtrippin (thanks to the Jacqueses who suggested, and to the Jacques who agreed to come). The route is yet to be decided, but may include New Orleans, may involve a trip around the Great Lakes or could be a trip down to Miami. I will keep you all posted.

Back to the west coast by May 22, then maybe Seattle, Vancouver and possibly San Francisco before heading back to LA to see Naomi for one last big hug, and fly to Malaysia.

But anyone who has been in touch with me would know how quickly these plans could change. Check back regularly for updates!

United Nations. We hope.

Often criticised for their inability to accomplish things, the United Nations can often seem like a really defunct institution. I tend towards optimism in most facets of life, but even I am dismayed at times by the meaninglessness of some of the UN's actions. Inactions.

But I must admit that when I visited the headquarters in New York, I couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope in just the idea of nations united. It is definitely a powerful thing.

The building itself was far from spectacular. In fact, it seemed almost run down in some areas. The gardens were pretty, but entirely fenced off. And I know it was naive of me to expect more, but the security guards just didn't seem all that sophisticated.

Yet walking through the security checkpoint, I found myself very excited. I was thrilled at the idea of being on an international territory (yes, to visit the UN you must actually leave US soil - unfortunately no, you don't get a stamp on your passport that proves it). I was eager to impress everyone that I spoke to, with some faint idea at the back of my mind that this is what should be done here - it is a place of unity, respect and peace.

United nations is a fairly romantic notion. Even before the birth of the nation-state people struggled to coexist peacefully, and whilst forming nations added politics to the already volatile mix of racial, religious and geographical tensions, it did little to halt conflict. In fact, it became yet another reason to go to war.

But with nations and nation-states also came a new sense of diplomacy. Nations can work together in ways that, historically, different races or people from different religous groups could not. All sorts of different people can be united under the banner of 'nation', whereas defining people by their race or religion is much more constraining.

Standing in the lobby of the UN Headquarters I was as giddy as a scholar who finally discovered not the solution to his problem, but a new path to a potential solution. It was exhilarating, and I couldn't get enough of the idealism that existed within the walls of that very building.

Or maybe I am just naive. Either way, I'm not letting go of my idealism easily.

Is peace worth fighting for?

New York, Zoo York, Jew York, Too (much) York

Highlights:

Central Park is beautiful. It isn't just the flowers that are blooming, it is the people as well - there is so much life here. An afternoon can be easily wiled away just watching, relaxing, enjoying.

The Guggenheim Museum has an exhibition on by Cai Guo Qiang. It is the most amazing exhibition that I have ever seen. His ideas are challenging, his vision is grand and his favourite material is gunpowder. Say no more.

I stood inside an Egyptian tomb over 4,000 years old in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I saw burial cloths equally as old. I now know why everyone in the world wants Egyptian cotton.

The emotion stirred by Ground Zero and stories of September 11, 2001 is still very poignant. I wonder what the Middle East is going to be like...

Seder with a group of Jewish families was... delicious! My first Jewish religious experience.

The food here is phenomenal.

The biggest highlight is that I still haven't seen a fraction of what this place has to offer. Come to New York.

Drive me crazy

Yes, another driving post. But I am not the driver.

I am amazed at the judgement shown by people driving in New York City. Lanes are ignored, double-parking is frequent, indicators are a barely used accessory, yet I haven't seen an accident. I know they happen - I have seen the scratched, dented panels and fenders. Yet traffic flows, people zip through spaces that a Sydney driver wouldn't even consider, drivers seem to co-exist in spaces between lanes between spaces between cars.

Sitting in the car with Murray I feel completely comfortable (whereas in Sydney I wouldn't). Sitting in the back of a cab, I am rigid with tension and nerves.

Interesting but irrelevant observations!

Wrong way, Monsieur Ratsinger

I stood about 2.5 metres from the Pope on Friday evening. He waved through his car window as he (and his entourage of over 50 vehicles) went the wrong way down East 87th St from Park Avenue, right out the front of our building.

As exciting as the whole event was, the cherry on top was definitely the lone police scooter that ended a convoy of 30 - 40 highway patrol motorcycles, big SUV's, buses of media, limousines, police cars and black vans going the wrong way down East 87th.

Only the Pope. Only in New York. I love this place.

And home, home's anywhere you are too...

End of week two and a tiny bit of people-sickness is kicking in. That is not to say that I am sick of the people here - on the contrary, I love the people that I am spending my time with here.

What I do mean is that I am missing all the people who aren't here. I don't miss Australia just yet (although I do automatically sit up and pay attention when I hear an Australian accent in the crowd), but I do miss my friends and my family. Especially with the sudden, forced changes of plans. It would be nice to have a more familiar face here to boost my confidence, to bounce ideas off of, to laugh with.

That being said, my New York family have been wonderful. Murray and Francine have provided endless amounts of encouragement and support, whilst still giving me complete freedom. Not only have they given me full run of their beautiful home in the middle of upper Manhattan, but they have also dispensed tips, happily included (or not included) me in any of their plans, and have fed me the most spectacular meals.

Perhaps I shouldn't publish this post, lest everyone comes to New York to abuse their hospitality. Oops!

I could make New York home quite happily, if I could have my family and friends here too. I do wonder though - is my comfort here a result of the fact that I do have family here?

I thought I had already learned to appreciate the importance of family. Maybe this is a lesson that repeats itself over and over. I shall keep you all informed.

I am. Are you?

I am.

The shortest possible sentence in the English language, yet probably the most powerful.

Also a surprisingly significant sentence and concept in many aspects of life.

For example, I found out today that the State of New York doesn't believe who I am. In fact, the United States government will not believe that I am who I say I am in many contexts.

Why is this significant? If I can't prove who I am, then I can't legally own a motorcycle in this country. A frustrating revelation given that I went to bed with such cold feet, worried about the risk that I was taking if I was to buy this bike that I test-rode yesterday, but woke up with a strong resolve - I would buy this bike or regret my decision not to. Anticipating regret makes difficult decisions slightly easier.

Having difficult decisions made for you is also easy. So now I will plan myself a train or bus tour of this grand country, despite the fact that this grand country will not believe in me.

I will make this work. I know who I am. I know that I am.

I am.

Central Park, NY

Wow.

New news

Briefly...

LA was really great! Seeing Naomi and meeting RJ was brilliant, and I couldn't have asked for more in hosts. Thank you so much for your couch, your food, your bathroom, your driving skills, your patience and yourselves. I'm looking forward to coming back to visit!

I flew into NY on a red-eye flight, arriving at 6.30am Monday, and have been on the go since. There is so much to see and do here, and I am totally in love with the place and the people.

Including more motorbikes. Don't hold your breath.

Actually, feel free to breathe a little easier - my baby Geni (also known as UKP 05, 02 Suzuki GS 500 back home) has gone to a new home. She will be well loved by her new owner, a family man who has a passion for biking. I hope to see you on the road when I get back, Geni.

More soon, so keep an eye out! Or in.

E'erbody in the club gettin' tips (revisiting my final night in LA)

In the USA, people in the service industry are paid not for the work they do, but (theoretically) for how well they do the work. This happens in the form of tips. If they serve well, they can expect their 15% and more. If they don't perform quite up to standard, they might fall a few cents short of that magical 15% mark - and when you are getting paid a pittance for your base wage, every cent that you get in tips will count.

As such, this is generally a place where customer service is good, if not great - people's livelihood relies on it. Therefore this is a society in which there is a strong expectation of swift, friendly, helpful service. Afterall, it is the customer who is paying most of the wage directly from their own wallet, and they want their money's worth.

Obviously where there are expectations, there are also disappointments. This high expectation of good service can become highly entertaining in circumstances where it isn't fulfilled.

On Saturday night RJ and his friends had a booking for about 20 people at a teppanyaki restaurant in a nice neighbourhood in LA (Fullerton). Knowing his friends well, guests were told that the booking was for 9pm, but the reservation with the restaurant was made for 9.30pm. The plan was mostly a success - come 9.30, 15 of 22 people were there and the other 7 were on their way. We took our seats, ordered drinks, and contemplated menus, knowing that the other 7 would merely order appetisers when they arrived (they were going to be too late to have their food cooked on the grill in front of us).

Just as comfort levels rose and small talk grew between new and old friends, friendly conversation over drinks and menus was interrupted rather rudely by a quick-tongued manager.

"Who is responsible for this reservation? I need to speak to the person responsible for this reservation."
"I guess I am responsible?" (April, RJ's lovely cousin who made the booking and was also celebrating her birthday)
"Well, I need to know how many other people are coming."
"Um, I think 5 people are coming. Either 5 or 7?"
"When are they going to be here."
"They are on their way, I'm not sure when they will actually arrive. But they're just ordering from the appetiser menu, so you can feel free to fire up the grill anytime - we don't need to wait for them." (Smile from April)
"But are they coming? When will they be here? Because I have 5 seats here that need to be filled. And if your friends don't come, I am charging you $25 a head for those seats."

I must interrupt here just to add that there was nobody waiting for tables at this stage, and there was two whole teppan grills going unused.

"Oh! But, they are coming? I just spoke to them, they are coming and ordering appetisers."
"Well, if you confirm that now, and I reserve these 5 seats for them, then I am going to charge you $25 a head if they don't show up."
"But you didn't make any mention of this when I made the booking? Is this a rule? You didn't mention this at all when I called before..."
"No, but I am the manager here and I am telling you right now that I am changing the rule, ok? This is how it is. Either you say yes, your friends are coming, and whether or not they turn up you pay. Or you say no, and I don't reserve those seats for you. That's it."
"... what?! But nothing was mentioned about this sort of a policy when we made the booking."
"No, but I am mentioning it now, ok!"
"Excuse me, but aren't we the paying customers here?" (Steps in Ahmed, one of RJ's more hilarious friends with a sizeable mouth)
"Yes, and I am the manager."
"So you are trying to run a restaurant, I get it. But we are the customers and you need us to run your restaurant. You made no mention of this policy when the booking was made, surely you should be willing to try and find some sort of compromise here for us."
"No, I am telling you now. Either you book those seats and pay, or I give them to the next people that walk in."
"No, we are the customers. You need to compromise. You made no mention of this before."
"I am telling you that this is how it is, ok?"

Manager walks away.

After a 30 second discussion and a unanimous vote, we all finish our drinks and walk out, completely stunned.

Despite the fact that I am still slow and unsure when it comes to leaving tips, I think the only tip coming his way that evening was the one from a member of our group on the way out:

"Thanks... FOR NOTHING!"


On a post script, we ended up at a place called Yardhouse, which was wonderful. Great atmosphere, brilliant staff, wonderful manager and fantastic food.

Post-post script, the 7 people who were late turned up at the teppanyaki place at 10.30, an hour and a half late. Then they decided not to join us at Yardhouse after we walked out of a restaurant for them. Shame.

All up, an entertaining and memorable final night in LA. Much thanks to all, even the manager.

Hi-ho, hi-ho, off to New York I go...

Flew in this morning. I love this place.

Its All-Right, Its All-Right

They move in the most mysterious ways!

Driving on the right side of the road doesn't feel too wrong. Having the bulk of the car to my right when I am driving definitely doesn't feel right. But turning left is alright, and turning right feels pretty right.

You might have to think about that for a little while. I know I will.

The hardest thing about driving around in LA (and no, I haven't attempted any LA freeways in my friend's car) has been figuring out where to look. You definitely can't look into the eyes of any other driver on the road - its like looking into the eyes of a pit bull. You can't afford to gaze too long at the palm trees either, because you might just miss your turn to slip through the stop inersection. You can't even just concentrate on looking straight out your windscreen because in this city chances are that the person who is more likely to run into you is coming from behind. But don't spend too long looking back there, or you might just become that person.

Driving here has been easy and tough at the same time. Its not so much that my driving skills are the wrong way around, its just that my observation instincts are geared to the opposite side of the road. So whether I am crossing the road as a pedestrian, or negotiating a 4-way stop sign intersection in the car, it takes me a full second to figure out exactly where to look. Cruising aong, I have to learn to be aware that I am sitting on the left side of the car, and that the bulk of the car is actually sitting just past my right shoulder.

That being said, test riding motorcycles has been just fine. When you are riding you are concentrating 100% on making sure that you have your own personal space. I think that's why I feel safer on a bike - I am in control of my own space and don't need to worry about someone else's space that I might be considered responsible for.

Still no luck on buying a motorcycle. I'm thinking of flying to New York and trying there.

In other news...

LA is ugly, but there is definitely some movie-like magic to its bland hideousness.

I have thus far been unsuccessful in my hunt for a two-wheeled machine that will get me around this great nation. Plans for a Sunday departure may need altering, be it the date or the mode of transport.

Seeing Naomi and finally meeting her husband has been wonderful, and they have been very accommodating hosts. I will try not to burden them too longer with my immobility.

Tourist highlights include: Farmer's Markets and the Getty Centre today, seeing the rich houses in Chino Hills yesterday, Naomi and RJ's choir practice on Tuesday evening.

I'll try update again soon, hopefully with happier motorcycling news.

The Getty Centre, LA. Gorgeous.

Say cheeeese!

I remembered only a few things about America after our family trip here in Dec 01/Jan 02... I remembered snow in New York, basements in the suburbs of Chicago, theme parks in Cali and Florida.

I learnt more before coming here by casually flipping through the thousand-odd pages of my Lonely Planet and by actually paying attention to some of the travel stories told vividly by excited friends... Huge freeway interchanges in LA, vibrant cultural hotspots in Seattle and Vancouver, amazing musical communities in Memphis and New Orleans, fantastic hot dogs in New York.

I know I didn't come to America with a strong plan under my belt or a solid idea under my hat. My mother and most of my friends will happily testify to that. In fact, as far as trip preparation goes, I had none.

What I thought I did have was a good cultural preparation. I knew that Americans (in America) were generally hospitable people (if a little impatient at times). I knew that my Australian accent would get me out of a lot of sticky situations. I knew that America was the land of fast food, huge meals and plenty of carbs and protein.

However I was completely unprepared for the full frontal cheese assault that has been attacking my digestive system since I flew in on Tuesday. Everything in America comes with cheese. Everything.

I'm not talking about a creamy brie on water crackers with a French wine to begin your meal. I don't mean that your rocket comes with Italian shaved parmesan, or that your greek salad has some delicately crumbled feta dotted throughout. Nor do I infer that your dessert is a platter of New Zealand cheeses with fuit. No, not at all.

Cheese in America comes melted over your fries. Cheese comes in the form of a sauce all over your salad. Cheese comes dripping from your hamburger. Cheese is melted, cheese is oily, cheese is abundant. Cheese is also multicultural: "Would you like American, Swiss or Cheddar poured all over your sandwich, sir?"

Please don't think that this is a rant (although it might be). It is rather an observation, nothing more. I have actually discovered a way to benefit from this cultural difference and my stomach's inability to cope with the sudden influx of dairy and oil - rather than force the traditional three meals in a day, I can now happily survive on a hearty breakfast and a light evening snack. This saves me time and money, without which I wouldn't be able to update this blog.

So in effect, you benefit from the cheesiness that is the United States of America. God Bless America.

And Switzerland.

And Cheddarland...

Chili Cheese fries. Not even I could finish them.

Start Blogging?!

More like start packing!

I'll get this thing happening soon... Keep an eye out! Or keep it in. I like eyes better when they are in.