... buggered if I know!

I boarded a train from Quebec, discovering that i could purchase a rail pass that would carry me in comfort for the next month of my travels, all the way back to BC. But for now i continued to head east. I planned to visit a friend in Halifax which is on the eastern seaboard, the capital of the province of Nova Scotia.

The train was far superior in comfort to the buses i was accustomed to travelling in. The seats are more comfortable and spacious and the best thing is that you can get up and walk around. One thing to note is that the age demographic of train travellers tends to be slightly older than the bus. Less vagabonds and travelling minstrels and more families and dying people. I felt almost grown up on the train, like i was maturing as a traveller.

The first carriage i found myself on seemed to have an inordinate number of such old and sick people. How could one carriage contain so many coughers. I wondered if they had all been coughing this much since they got on on or was it steadily increasing? Was this the beginning of some plague? Was this carriage an infirmary? The guy next to me was sounding very sick, and he had a bandage on his arm which was weeping a dark fluid...Was there a war going on in the west and these were all the refugees being shipped out east? I think some of them were coughing just because it had become fashionable. How long had these poor people been on this carriage? After a short while of listening and observing i realised that coughing had become their main form of communication. The woman sitting just opposite from me had been alone since i had got on hours earlier. Soon enough she too had begun coughing. Nothing too serious, just a few sporadic splutters, which were echoed somewhere further up the carriage. Someone was replying to her. Shortly after, her mate appeared, answering her call. She gave a cough upon his arrival and he promptly replied with a cough as he sat down next to her. She coughed again and he seemed to understand, as he opened a packet of cracker biscuits and he shared them with her. Not a single word had been spoken between the two of them.

The guy in the block of seats next to me with the seeping arm was of grave concern. Fortunately there was an isle between us, so i could observe him from a distance. He occupied a double seat to himself. He seemed to jump and start every minute or so and he would sniff, cough, hoik, and moan, but mostly he would sigh. Every half hour or so he would suddenly look behind him down the carriage with a furrowed brow on his puffy face, then jump up and head back toward the toilet with a determined stride. From my seat i could hear even more desperate coughing and hoiking coming from back there. He returned to his seat with the same determined stride, yet looking defeated, and sighing so deliberately. He then sat back in his chair, eyes shut, hand on head, sighing and breathing deeply. This man was obviously suffering a great deal. Later I saw the cabin attendant offer him some antacid. The man was suffering from crippling heart burn, coupled with a terrible cough, both possibly caused by the zombie bite on his arm. I lost all sympathy for him when i later saw him consume two cheeseburgers and a can of coke, purchased from the canteen carriage. This man clearly needed his mother, who i suspect was on the carriage somewhere. There seemed to be a whole family of them, these hoiking hoarders of double seats.
The following is an excerpt from my journal: "I fear i am becoming one. I saw a double seat become available and i lunged for it, moving only half my stuff so as to keep my lucky no.11 seat, but to also stake my claim on the cherished double, 12A and 12B. I managed to get some sleep for it, stuffing my head in my hood and mimicking the hunched position that i had observed in my fellow travellers. The coughing has not started yet, but i am sure it is just a matter of time..."

Halifax, ah Halifax. what isn't there to say about Halifax. What a magical town. Filled with fabulous folks, fine food, affordable films, fair trade coffee, Frenchy's fashions and other fortuitous findings. The east coast of Canada is fundamentally different to the west. Where BC has mountains, Nova Scotia has a hill. BC has forests, NS has trees. In Vancouver you catch the bus or ride a bike, in Halifax you can walk everywhere. The west coast can be cold, the east coast is fucking freezing! But Halifax is worth it. I had such a great time there.

I arrived and contacted my friend Sebastian who had kindly offered to have me to stay. I walked to his house and we relaxed and chatted for a while. It had started snowing shortly after i had arrived and i headed out in it on sebs bike, to pick up some beers. It was so peaceful out, i love the first snow that falls. Seb told me my arrival was well timed as one of his favourite bands was playing that evening. Later, we headed off to the gig and along the way we met Seb's girlfriend Lee. As we parted i remember reflecting on how lucky he was to have the love of such a woman. If only such a love could be bestowed upon me.

The bar was full of people and music. Several more beers were consumed and beeties were the aroma of the night. I met a girl, her name was Max. She smiled and said, "Welcome to Halifax!"

Funny thing is that two days later i went to see a movie and Max was sitting right next to me in the Cinema. After the movie i decided to go Tobogganing on the fresh snow on Citadel Hill in the middle of town. I make-shifted a toboggan out of card board and headed up. You can imagine my surprise when i should see Maxine there and we slid down the hill together. Then the next night i went with Sebastian to see Stephen Lewis talk and who should i run into but Maxine. The next night i decided to go for a walk over the Bridge which connects Halifax and Dartmouth and right in the middle i bumped into Maxine! It was freezing that night so we huddled together for warmth. The next night i went with Lee to a bar and then she had to leave but i stayed on and chatted to the barman, who had married an Australian gal. Believe it or not but Max walks in, wearing her famous blue coat and we hung out over a few more bevvies. Later that night i was at the Art Museum perusing some art and there was this cute girl there that i was flirting with and it turned out to be Maxine! Afterwards i went and grabbed some sushi. The funny thing is that Maxine was there too, sitting right across from me at the table!
The weekend had come around again and this Friday night there was a party at Sebastian's friend's place. Yep, Maxine was there... performing, singing songs from her new album. Next day i went to the farmers market and Maxine was there, then we went to the national ice skating championships together, competed and WON!

On Sunday we headed to a farm out in Tatamagouche, Sebastian, Lee, Maxine and Me. The kids out that way are really funny and the ocean is frozen. We were able to walk out beyond the breakers. I could go on about what else i did that week and i will. We went to a greenhouse on top of Dalhousie University, went shopping at Frenchy's thrift store, rented Harold and Maud and never watched it, caught the ferry to Dartmouth and visited the Urquhart's, rented a car and went on a road trip around the south of Nova Scotia.
I ended up staying in Halifax two weeks longer than planned, sometimes you've just got to let it all go and roll. I had so much fun hanging out with Seb and Lee at all and any time of the day or night. They were so hospitable welcoming me into there home. I left Halifax just as i had arrived, by train. You wont believe this but when i was at the train station saying goodbye, who should we run into but Maxine! Bizarre.

...Bloody Australians.

If Montreal is Eastern Europe then Quebec is definitely Western Europe. Quebec is a beautiful little city straight out of France with cobbled streets and old walls, cathedrals, and snow! Yes it snowed for two days after Millie left. Tragic really, but nice for me.
I met a nice girl on the bus, I can't remember her name now... Anyway what's her name was a lovely girl and she was coming from Ottawa to visit her sister in Quebec for the first time. She could see that i did not really know what I was doing or where I was going (because that was how I made it seem;) so she kindly offered to have her sister drive me to my hostel. We chatted some more and things seemed to be going quite well, i think we really hit it off. So, we drove through the streets in the snow and slush and her sister, also a lovely girl, filled us in on the history of this quaint little town. I wont bore you with it. Here we are, at the hostel, just down that road a little. Yep this is fine thanks. ok yep thanks very much. yes it was lovely to meet you too. ok "what's your name", bye. bye.... Ok. there they go... there she goes... ... Idiot.

I lamented not getting what's her names number for about two days after that because as soon as I got out of that car and they drove off, I realised what it was about this city that i had been enjoying so much but couldn't quite place up until then. It was obvious now that i think back; old stone buildings, thin winding cobblestone streets, snow falling and covering the ground... Quebec is a romantic city, and there i was standing in the snow, completely alone. Idiot.

I checked into my hostel and yep you guessed it, romantic. I decided to drown my sorrows so i sought out some local ales at the corner store and fortunately they brew them strong in Quebec.
Hanging out in the hostel was actually not too bad and i met some great people there. It was just a small place, which i think i prefer. Smelt less of men than a lot of the other larger hostels which I inhabited on my travels. Oh Millie, by the way. Remember that dorm room i checked into for my last night in Montreal, which did stink of man flesh? well it just got worse. It turns out that
the bunks in that room were all somehow intrinsically joined together so that when that strange guy that i was sharing the room with turned over in bed, which was about every 30 seconds, all the other bunks in the room moved with him. All the screws on all the bunks were loose, fortunately none were as squeaky as mine.

Next day i got up early to go and explore the town. It had stopped snowing and it was truly beautiful. I walked to the wall which surrounds the old part of the city. It even had a rampart!
I felt great as i traipsed through the snow alone. I could do this by myself, i didn't need anyone else to have fun. Then i saw them, people. Other tourists checking out the sights, they looked kind of my age too. I headed straight for them. Turned out that I knew one of them. I had met Andrew at a rainy bus stop in Vancouver about two months earlier! Weird, he had just been up visiting from California when i met him and now here he was, clear on the other side of the continent. His companion was John and both were Australian, Andrew from Perth and John from Adelaide, haha...

So we toured around the sites together, visiting the old war/fort thing, where we ran into some more Australians. Funny I hadn't been in the vacinity of any Australians since the end of first semester at UBC. In fact the only Australian contact I had had for nearly 12 months was the phone calls to people back home, in which i had been secretly chuckling with glee to myself over the funny accents, and Todd's insisting on talking to me in an Aussie accent at work. But here i was in French Canadian Quebec surrounded by them.



We moved on and ended up up the tallest building in Quebec which gave a nice view of the old city, freshly covered in snow. Our vantage point was educational too and we learned all about why this old city was where it was and why it was so fortified. Turns out the the Americans tried to invade, as did the British i think, during the American war of Independence, But they failed, I think.

So i hung out with these guys for the next few days in Quebec. We teamed up with another Australian, Marg and went out for drinks on the town. We ended up discovering a secret hidden away upstairs bar which was filled with real french Canadians, singing real french songs in french. It was cool and we felt cool, even if our presence as tourists kind of ruined the whole authenticity of the place. We met some nice frenchy girls here at this bar and ended up out at a shit night club afterward, and then ate Poutine, which is otherwise known in Australia as Jum's chips 'n' gravy.

The next day was great. I got up early and woke the others up. We organised a rental car and we headed out of the city to some waterfalls that had been recommended to us. It was really cold out there, and everything was snow. It was a fun drive too. After the falls we took some wrong turns and so some back roads but finally made our way to the Ice Hotel.






As we arrived we walked towards the igloo like structure with a bus load of tourists. A man spoke something incomprehensible to us and handed us all a sticker, which we stuck to our jackets copying the other people around us. That done we walked in and started to marvel at the structure and the ice sculptures within. We soon realised that no one had charged us anything to get in? It was supposed to cost $18 and we were obviously concerned that we had not contributed to the upkeep of such a fine establishment. Then the tour started and all became clear, well at least to Andrew who could actually understand Spanish. The bus load that we had unwittingly joined turned out to be a Spanish tour group and we were now apart of it. We stood for a few minutes nodding and smiling at the tour guide and Andrew translated the basics for us. Before to long we had to excuse ourselves for the giggling was becoming a distraction to the other members of the tour and we were starting to get funny looks from the other employees of the hotel. We made our way into the various rooms which had been made up in various themes. The rooms would be available to sleep in for those that had reserved them for the night at an undoubtedly exorbitant price. The beds were actually made of ice and clothed in firs which were surprisingly cosy. They had carved all manor of canadiana sculptures and were in the process of constructing a church for people to get married in.





















It was even colder in the hotel than it was outside. I know that john had lost feeling in his feet several hours earlier but he did not seem content with that and insisted on proving his worth by having us hold blocks of ice on his hands resting on the ice table. Now as we sat on chairs made out of ice blocks, drinking ice cold drinks out of cups made of ice in a bar made of ice, we made a toast to how fucking cold it is in Canada, all of us no doubt thinking of the warmth of home.



















Next couple of days were spent resting and seeing a few more sights. As i often do, i sort out the sanctuary of a church and Quebec has no shortage of them. I like to see the art work and check out the ornate architecture but there is also something comforting about being in a church. We walked the old streets and took a trip over to the other side of the St. Laurence to Levis, the bullied little brother city to Quebec which serves only to give nice views of the city.



















With that i said farewell to my Australian friends and we all went our separate ways. I reflected on my time in Quebec. What on earth happened with old what's her name? What would have come of me if i had not fatefully run into the guys and Marg? Why does America insist on invading every country conceivable? Why does Levis suck so much? What else can B possibly stand for? and why oh why is it so bloody cold here? Why indeed am i here traipsing through the snow of this wide continent? All will be revealed in the next chapter...

...Bonjour, Bon Appetit, Bon Voyage.

As we crossed the long bridge over the St. Laurence into Montreal, I felt an ominous feeling rising in me. The wavy and disjointed construction of the bridge sent a deep and slow heartbeat reverberating through the bus. Like babies in a womb, comforted by our cosy surroundings, I couldn't help but think that we were about to be born to something unknown. The city looked dark and unfriendly from the bus, and then I remembered that the buses windows were actually tinted. I had a sense of how foreign this place was, even though i had been living in Canada for long enough. These feelings were confirmed by the francophone chatter which steadily increased as we neared our destination.

The French Canadians had been so quiet when we left new York, where they were so obviously the foreigners and in the minority to us English speakers. As we disembarked and attempted our first efforts at communication, I felt very much in the minority and realised what I had been warned about, that these people did not like having to speak English in their home land. I have been in foreign speaking countries before but the French have special and not so subtle ways of letting you know that you really should be able to speak and understand french (even if you are Australian?). Lets be honest here, French people are really not... well i was going to say nice, but I can't (compassion for all beings and all that). You know what i mean; They have a unique way of being.

The very first waitress that me and Millie encountered in Montreal was kind of rude. Some of you know of the special bond I share with waitresses. We have an understanding which allows me to charm them with my witty banter and entertain the other members of my table at their expense. Which usually just makes everybody uncomfortable, want to up and leave and tip high. But this girl just didn't fit the bill. She hated me, even before i spoke. She had us sized up the moment we stumbled in with our baggage and dazed complexions. I never had a chance to even smile at her. Anyway, i am over it now but she really could have been more welcoming to a couple of wherry travellers. Eh Millie? Yeah.



We were fortunate enough to be staying in a friends vacant apartment for the first few days. We were doubly fortunate as this apartment was in the trendy and happening area called Plateau Mont Royal. It lay in the shadow of Mont Royal which turned out to be a hill - if me and Millie walked up it, then it's a hill, not a Mont. Which we did, the first day we were there. Even though we were somewhat disappointed that it was not snowing (something that Millie had wished for the whole trip), we were blessed with fairly friendly weather, for that time of year, in that part of the country. There was however some snow left on the ground on the hill and Millie finally got to do what I suspect she had come all the way from London to do. She made a snow ball and hurled it at me.











We spent most of the rest of the week just wandering around eating and drinking more. Sampling local beers and trying different restaurants in our area. The streets of Montreal reminded me of some run down eastern European city (not that I've ever been there). When we arrived the streets were pretty much deserted because it was the 2nd of January so all the shops were still closed, and I assume because it was freezing cold? There was gravel all over the side walks and remnants of snow banks which had hardened into dirty patches of windswept ice. The great thing about Montreal streets is the graffiti everywhere. Oh, and the hot french chicks.














We visited a few of the tourist sites around town too. In One day we managed to go to the Botanical Gardens, which where predictably frozen (They even wrap up some of the plants so they end up looking like these strange frozen figures), the Insectarium which was quite disturbing and the Biodome, which was pretty amazing; A collection of different environments from all over the world, including Antarctic and Tropical Rain forest, of which you can walk through and check out the flora and fauna.


As the weekend rolled around things livened up on the Plateau. We went out with a friend from Vancouver to a Breakdance Battle. It was being held in the upstairs of this big Chinese restaurant out in the suburbs, which on the same evening was the venue for a 30th Birthday party and an Indian wedding! The break dancing was pretty impressive and tensions were high as the locals defended their home turf from the challengers. At one point the MC just dropped the mic and walked off stage mid sentence to do battle with some young gun who had obviously had the audacity to dance outside of the competition. I went and watched the battle that ensued and had to try really hard not to laugh out loud as the opponents stood arms crossed and breathing hard in between displays, sweating profusely in there all over trackies, their eyes all red from staring each other down.

The dancing was cool though and the final battle was filled with attitude and power moves. All the excitement put us and our lovely companions in a dancing mood so we headed back to the Plateau in search of a suitable venue. On the way we passed a photo booth and it was proposed that we get all eight of us into one photo. We tried and if you look very closely you can see my eye somewhere in one of them.

At an apartment later, an impromptu yoga session degraded into a little break dance battle of our own, after a few shots. This was my power move... Then we went out and tore up the dance floor at one of the Plateau's hottest bars.







With that mine and Millie's time in Montreal and indeed North America together was pretty much over. After a hard day recovering in a cafe I escorted her to the greyhound station and we said goodbye. As she was boarding the bus it started to snow, so I guess she finally got her wish.

...Big Apple.

I recaaalllll,... CCCeentral Park in Fall,
how you ate your pretz, what a mess...

This was mine and Millie's first meal in New York: a pretzel in the park. And it was delicious, apart from the coating of giant salt crystals which the vendor smothered it in (I had to knock the damn things off to be safe when i fed some to the ducks). It was boxing day. Millie and I had both spent Christmas day on aeroplanes and then met up that night at JFK airport. We had a little family Christmas present swapping party back at the hostel, before heading to bed, both exhausted from our travels.

Boxing day was the first day in more than a month that I had not been subjected to constant pouring rain. It had been raining for at least a month in Vancouver when i left. I took a bus to Seattle for a night and it didn't stop. I jumped a plane to New York and when i was walking from the airport to the train, the rain was coming in sideways under the canopy. When i emerged from the subway station at Columbus Circus, I tried to look up in amazement at the towering buildings of Manhattan, but it rained in my eye and i had to put up my umbrella. I secured a room for me and Millid at the "Y". While i was waiting in line to check in, i kid you not, the song YMCA came on the radio. With out flinching the guy at the desk casually walked straight over to the radio and switched it off. I laughed but he didn't?

I had some sushi and then trekked back to the airport to meet Mullie and guide her safely back through the savage jungle that is the New York subway system. The fact is that the New York subway is about as dangerous as I am (That is to say that is not very dangerous). The most scary thing that happened to me on the subway was when this huge guy pushing a cart got on and addressed the whole carriage "Excuse me ladies and gentlemen, can i get your attention please...", at which point my safety senses switched on. ...he then proceeded to hand out packets of food while he explained that he was part of a group who distribute food to the homeless and would anybody be interested in donating money. The thing is that people actually started giving the guy money. I started to feel something for New York at this point. The second most scary thing that happened on the subway was when another even larger guy got on and started yelling at people at the top of his lungs,"JJJJEEEEsus LOves You! JJJJJJJEEEEEEEEEEEEEsus". He was kind of scary but he meant well. Another time, this guy in a wheel chair got on and addressed the carriage explaining that he was disabled and homeless and was just trying to get some money together for a meal. This guy actually looked to have gangrene in one of his legs. With out hesitating, a well-to-do young business man, looking sharp in his fancy suit and felt hat walked straight up to the guy in the chair and tucked some green notes in his hand before exiting the train. People from all walks of life offered money to this guy-in-need. This is not what i had heard about New York, the subway, or it's people. Now i loved the place.

It was great to see Midlie again after so long on different continents. She had made the trek all the way over from London and she and I were both pretty excited just to be in New York. We spent most of our time in the first few days, just walking around looking at the beautiful buildings and the hordes of people, finding cool places to eat and drink and just generally lapping up the freedom of being travellers in a foreign land, once again. We met up with her friend Hayley, who had flown in at about the same time, and she joined us in our aimless wandering consumption. Little did Hayley know that all the while I was delighting in hearing her Melbourne accent. Ours is such a soft and subtle way of speaking. I like the fact that people still have trouble understanding me here in the New World, despite my having lived here nigh on two years. Not so much because my accent is so thick anymore, but more because sometimes i just can't be bothered saying anymore than is absolutely necessary to convey something to them.







This is a nice photo i think, i like the fact that you can see Mildie and Hayley in the corner of the picture, but they are not the main focus. You get more of a sense of what they are experiencing here of the beautiful scenery, the statuesque buildings enclosing the vast open... wait a minute what is that...? oh I see. Upon closer inspection, in the corner of the picture we find... oh dear. That's right, i forgot for a moment that we were in Central Park.
























We did all the touristy things in New York. We spent quite a lot of time in Central Park including an evening ice-skating, and we visited the shopping shopping district of Soho, where, much to my chigrin, Miljie spent at least a day hopping around, trying on just about every shoe in New York. The only thing more painful then the incessant squeaking of her one faulty shoe (which accompanied us from JFK all the way to the bus in Montreal), was the fact that she didn't even buy anything that day in Soho! We went to Times Square, which apparently Mudlie thought was really funny.





Me and Nhillie were both really excited to see that what we knew to be a famous New York landmark visible from the window of our second YMCA room (we moved just to get a feel for a different part of the city). The next day we were up early and sure enough there it was, clear in the light of the new day. After a proper new York breakfast we eagerly headed toward the building we had sighted. As we approached, the awesome structure loomed above us. When we reached the lobby and entered we were disappointed to learn that we could not climb any higher than this lobby level, and that this building had no observation deck that we could gaze out over the city from. Even more disappointing was that the plaque above the elevator was not welcoming us to the Empire State Building at all, but it read "Welcome to the Chrysler Building".





We eventually found the Empire State building, from the observation deck of Rockefeller Plaza. We met Hayley there and forked out the very reasonable $17.00 to ride the elevator to the top of the building owned by one of the richest families in the world. By the look of the building it was clear that they needed the money. The view from the top was obviously spectacular, but that was a given. We had already visited Rockefeller Plaza at night and viewed the spectacular light-up dead Christmas tree, which they had chopped down and dragged into the plaza and propped up for idiots like us to marvel at. It was really shiny and bright. That same night we were headed home and passed one of the many street vendors found littering the sidewalks of this tourist district of downtown New York. I can't quite remember what t was but something about this particular guy was really convincing. I insisted that me an Mildrid should get 'one of those' New York caricatures. So i sat down and the very enthusiastic artist began his master piece. As I sat there grinning like an idiot i couldn't help but feel like I was starting to fit in, in this crazy town. I looked at the picture that was being drawn. "Hey, that does kinda look like me!"I thought. A sense of belonging overtook me and my stupid grin turned to a genuine smile. Then my butt and my smiling cheeks started to hurt and my patience began to wear thin. Finally he finished me and i jumped up and Millle took her seat. As our new friend started to draw her i started shaking my head. "Yeah, i guess that does kinda look like her", i thought, but who the hell is that guy he has drawn next to her. I looked around for this guy that he had drawn on the page, but he was nowhere to be seen. How was it that when i was sitting across from the artist, it had looked so much like me, and now that i had come around to his vantage point could i not recognise myself?
He then proceeded to draw a love heart floating in the air next to me and MY SISTER, we both quickly interjected and he tried to turn it into a big bright star, which i guess was in the Christmas spirit. It turned out looking like some weird catholic symbol of a bleeding heart, the blood of which "I" was collecting in a martini glass to toast in the new year. I have included a photo of this picture but have placed it upside down so that you can recognise me and Millic in it.







This was as close as we got to the what's her name, in fact not even this close, i zoomed in quite a bit for this photo. We had spent a long day walking around, and were pensive after visiting the World Trade Centre site. We just couldn't be bothered getting any closer so we just waved at her from here. That evening we headed to China Town and Little Italy. China town was, well china town, they all look the same to me. Little Italy was actually great, really electric atmosphere. There were lights everywhere. We had Chinese dinner and Italian dessert that night.







We spent an afternoon at the Guggenheim which was a little disappointing as the exterior was shrouded in construction scaffolding and the exhibition was largely made up of portraits of Spanish Lords and Ladies or some such shit. We spent the good part of a day at the Natural History Museum, most of which was really amazing. We got sick of New York after this and decided to take a trip to Africa. We joined a safari group and managed to get pretty close to the wild animals there. Sorry, i am kinda running out of material here...












We had some great nights out in NY, especially when we teamed up with some locals. We stayed a couple of nights with a friend of mine's sister, Nancy. One night we were out at a cool NY pub (that apparently The Strokes frequented) and we had a few. At the end of the evening a friend of Nancy's recounted his experience of Sept 11, 01.
He had lived in the shadow of the Twin Towers and was just getting up when all hell broke loose. He went outside to investigate the source of the thousands of sirens and alarms that were simultaneously sounding and found himself caught up in a crowd at the base of the towers, "watching bodies dropping from the sky and crashing down onto the fire trucks" below. Then he witnessed the second plane hit and was frozen there with so many others, compelled to watch in horror. When it became apparent that the buildings may collapse the crowd dispersed and he was freed. As the buildings fell he fled, running as fast as he could, but he was caught by the cloud of dust and ash and ended up face down in it. After some dust had cleared he got up and ran clear to the river and understandably in shock by this stage, he just kept going. He and many others were picked up by a boat in the river.
Me, Millie and Nancy sat mesmerised and humbled by his recollection of this event which mesmerised and humbled the whole world when it occurred.




We stayed in New York for new years eve. The atmosphere was predictably vibrant on the night and all week leading up to it. We got caught up in the crowd of revellers and watched the Times Square ball drop from ten blocks away. There were over a million people there that night, the funny thing is that i reckon i did not speak to more than five.


All in all I loved NY, adding it to the list of big cities that i have visited and felt right at home in. I never realised just how much of a city boy i was until I went and lived on a farm in the country. The buildings tell a story of exploding progress and inconceivable wealth and decadence. Yet the people who populate the city are so humble, interestingly interested in you and surprisingly tolerant. I guess they have to be. Diverse extremes of culture and class coexist in a familiar flow. I expected NY to be 'fast paced', and it is busy, but life just flows efficiently and effortlessly.

YAY, MILLIE!

to be continued....