Hawaii on a Tuesday Night Whilst Sitting in my Pants

On the eve of our honeymoon, I'm sitting in a pyjama top, bed socks, my British pants with a mug of Horlicks blogging. How very rom.

I was having a mini fit earlier, as I was so excited about our impending trip. I don't want to go on about it too much, but the whole place just blows my mind. As a long-time Rough Guide aficionado, who has recently lapsed into using the ever so matter-of-fact Lonely Planet (it's like reading the Independent back home), I would highly recommend the Fodor's 2014 edition of the guide to Hawaii. They are so descriptive with their words that I feel like I'm there already. (I don't want to do Rough Guides a disservice, but they never seem to have the most up-to-date editions. The writing is generally excellent with the British sarcasm being the best bit.)

The Boy was amazed by my amazement at the place. The mind boggles - at the place, not him. How can it be sunshine-y on one side of the island; rainy on another bit; snowy at the high bit; and then full of lava in another high bit? That's just too crazy. Plus they have a beach with green sand and loads with black sand. As I said the mind just boggles. Apparently, they have 11 of the world's 13 climatic something-or-anothers. It's an incredible fact when you hear it in it's full glory. We're going to spend the equivalent of a deposit on a house in Hull on a couple's massage by the seaside - we'll have to dodge the folk going past on their donkeys eating candy floss. And don't get me started on the food...

I have decided that we'll have to go again. If nothing else, then for the crab-fest Luau at the Hapuna Prince Hotel. Apparently, it's excellent and very good value. Am booking my next trip now...

A Relaxing Weekend

We are living in a complete pigsty at the moment. I mean, complete and utter shithole. I'm really embarrassed by it, hence why I'm sharing this with all my friends and a few randoms from Russia, who have apparently been following my blog. We've just struggled to muster any enthusiasm for tidying. No doubt we'll get down to it at 10pm tonight.

I've felt my mood shifting since Friday. I can see a break is in sight. A proper one. I didn't mind hanging around at home, waiting for the Boy and the rest of Team Momentum to decide when they would be heading down to the East Village on Friday night. I headed over to Misoya for one of New York City's top 25 bowls of ramen. Unfortunately, I didn't realise you had to ask for the parmesan (!) to be added so didn't get to try that bowl of strangeness, but what I did have was pretty good. Really balanced broth and nice chewy noodles.

I've been off my foot for the last few days, as I think I must have sprained or pulled a tendon or something. My feet are doing weird things due mainly to too tight shoes. So Saturday I spent an hour or two fighting with women from around the world over cut-priced shoes at DSW. Such a terrible idea. I was getting stressed at the prospect of not having shoes whilst I'm away and when I get an idea in my head, I'm fixated. Like the loo at the motel with the too high water upon flushing, I just could not stop thinking about getting new shoes.

Last night, we celebrated Oktoberfest in the Loreley, which was the place where Jarlotte and Con first met. We were a group of eight who didn't know each that well. The Boy and were the common link; it's strange to think that even then, we had probably spent between 3-6 nights out with each couple. It just goes to show how easy friendships can be forged.

As many of you know, I am a big believer in where you are placed amongst your siblings. Eldest children always get on and so do eldest/youngest children. The group last night was split evenly in half. Two couples both of youngest children. Two couples both of eldest children. I rest my case.

The baby talk was also rife, which I think will happen more and more as I hang out with more couples and more women over 30. But as was agreed by the other expat couple last night, it's tough to entertain the idea of throwing a baby into the mix when you're living overseas. It's a selfish existence here and it's so much easier to put it off until we're back at home. Where we have a safety net of friends and family. And when we're in our three-bedroom semi-detached house in the 'burbs rather than a one-bedroom apartment in the East Village. A discussion to be put off for another day.

In other news, the Boy had the bonza idea of fishfinger bagels this morning. What amazing dirty breakfast food to follow my pork shank, sauerkraut, mashed potatoes and German pints last night. I'll be rocking the bikini body in Hawai'i.

Body is battered and bruised

It always amazes me how far and fast you can travel on a bike. The fog rolled in and enveloped us as we travelled around Golden Gate Park and up, up and up the Presidio towards the Golden Gate Bridge. I was proper cold and was roaming around the gift shop looking for socks to wear on my rental bike. We couldn't even see the bridge when we first arrived because of the fog. 

After about five minutes of freezing my invisible bollocks off, I was ready to leave. Unfortunately, the Boy had spied that the fog around the base of the bridge was clearing. And indeed it was. At an incredibly. Slow. Rate. The Boy time. 

Needless to say, I got bored and started messing about with the functions on my phone. Did you know you can take 20 shots in the space of three seconds on a Samsung S3? Neither did I until that moment. Amazing how similar 20 shots of a bridge in fog can look. 

San Francisco is truly beautiful though and, I imagine, an amazing place to live. You get vistas of bridges, green spaces, beaches, water, hills. What more could ask for. Plus my fit bit was having a field day. 75 flights of stairs climbed in one day.

We were freezing when we finally got back so ended up going out locally in the Nopa area, specifically to the restaurant Nopa. I had read that it was difficult to get a booking but hadn't realised just how difficult until afterwards when a friend said that she had tried making a reservation three times. Well, girlfriend, you need to try again because the food was amazing. Yum. The flatbread and the pork chop were so delicious. And I felt trendy so double tick in one night.

The following day we spent the day roaming around the trendy, trendy area of the Mission district and eating some down and dirty Mexican food. Funnily enough, I think it was the place I ate at three years ago with my colleagues on a drunken night out. We wheeled our wheelie suitcase and luggage around the whole day, which was pretty annoying. Nothing beats a couple of hours sitting in Dolores Park, mind.

Life has been uneventful since San Francisco. I did complain to AA about their crappy old plane with their non-reclining seats. I mean, really? Who takes a red-eye flight and doesn't want to sleep? And who can sleep in an upright seat? Not even Chan, so it clearly was a disastrous scheduling error.

I spent Tuesday and today pretty battered and bruised. We're tired from lack of sleep and too much going on. Roll on Hawaii when we follow the sun out west again...

Big things, BART strike and Anchor Oyster Bar

After a morning of work, I take a few hours in the afternoon to see the sights. Apparently Palo Alto is also known as 'Superficial Alto'. For you Brits out there, it reminds me of Farnham without the history. Plenty of nice cafes, nice boutiques, nice trees. It's nice (and chi chi).

I also made my way to the Cantor Arts Centre at Stanford and to their Rodin sculpture garden. 13 years after visiting the Rodin museum in Paris, I am still overawed by the Gates of Hell. It is just incredible. There's nothing quite like imposing artwork. For those of you who know me well, I don't like big things. Not a little bit big, those are fine, but really big things. Standing by the Daibutsu in Nara, Japan; scary. Standing by the Eiffel Tower in Paris, France; scary. Standing by the cathedral in Santiago de Compostela, Spain; scary. You get my drift. You feel so small and insignificant. If one of those things were to fall you'd be crushed to smithereens or if, in the case of the Daibutsu, it were to come alive, it would definitely gobble me up, no problem.

I feel a little bit like that with big sculptures when they're indoors. But the moment you put them into a garden, they become super magical. They shine in the sun, they brighten your day in the snow. They are magnificent. That's why the Rodin Museum in Paris will always be my favourite, because it opened my eyes to how beautiful artwork can be when you take them into a different setting. And sitting in sunny California on a Thursday afternoon, I got to relive that moment of awe all over again. (I'm still not good with busts. They're still a bit freaky, particularly ones with big noses.)

Now at the best of times, the San Franciscan transport system isn't great. It just doesn't have the full coverage that other cities seems to. So when the BART strike was announced, everyone just groaned. Everyone will be forced into their cars rather than taking the train. Travelling 3.8 miles from the Caltrain station to our AirBnb apartment took 1.5 hours yesterday with three buses and multiple miles walked wheeling my suitcase. When the bus driver tells all passengers to get out the bus and walk, you know there's trouble. I arrived extremely grumpy but was welcomed by my Boy and a beautiful view from atop Alamo Square across the whole of San Francisco. Breathtaking.

Last night I revisited the Castro and took a picture of Zadin's for my RtR girls. We didn't eat there, but instead managed to get into Anchor Oyster Bar, which was the place we tried to go two years ago that had people shivering under blankets as they waited. As the weather is beautiful we waited and was treated to the most delicious meal. Cioppino, a San Franciscan delicacy of seafood in a tomato-based sauce was chock full of fresh seafood. Incredibly, that wasn't the best bit. The best bit is the garlic bread and I'm not a bread eater. Oh my. It was so tasty. I'm still full now at 11am now. The female chef was smiley and friendly and gave away garlic bread to those sitting at the counter. make sure you get a spot sitting by the kitchen, through which, incidentally, you have to walk to get to the loos. They done good.

Off to ride in Golden Gate Park...

Return to San Francisco

If I'm talking gibberish, it's because I've been up for over 20 hours. I am lying in a bed in a proper motel in Palo Alto - apparently pronounced pah-lo alto rather than pay-lo alto*.

I dragged myself out of bed in the middle of the night and left the apartment at 5.15am to catch a flight to sunny California. Our doorman offered to hail a cab for me, but I declined, as I was going to tube it to the airport. 'Woh. you can take the subway all the way to the airport? I didn't know that.' He said. Uh oh. I should have taken it as a sign.

An hour and 45 minutes later, I arrive, stressed and panicked that I might miss my flight. It was only supposed to take an hour. I had 40 minutes to traverse terminal 8 at JFK. Ready, get set, go!

It wasn't that eventful really. I did have to hot-foot it and didn't get to leisurely choose my breakfast. Hudson News - the US equivalent to WH Smiths - could only offer up some juice, yoghurt and a double boiled egg package. (I do the yoghurt a disservice, as it also had fruit and granola but that wouldn't have the same effect from a storytelling point of view.) The low of the journey was when I got a face full of egg juice, as I opened the plastic container, as the flight had made the pressure in the container go funny. Nice!

Being back in San Francisco has felt really odd. I was meeting three sets of people all around the HQ of my old charity. Roaming around streets that I had visited on two previous work trips was so strange. Nostalgic in both a good and bad way. Those work trips were intense and filled with wonderful and awful moments so the streets brought back all these intense feelings around every corner. The coffee shop on the corner where my colleague and I had that awkward conversation with our department head about our manager. Walking past a restaurant that we walked past whilst looking for hours for the restaurant we all wanted to eat in. I love the feel and vibe of San Francisco. It's so laid-back. But I had forgotten about the level of homelessness and evident mental illness of folks on the street. It's tough to see.

Another strange thing is coming back as a US resident. I am viewing San Francisco differently, which I find amusing. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm much better suited to New York. I'm far too impatient. Why, people, is there a pause once the little white (green) man appears to indicate you can cross the road? What's with the lack of jay-walking? I'm just not relaxed enough to live here.

The trip to Palo Alto further exacerbated this feeling. I missed the train I needed by minutes so asked a member of staff what I should do. 'Oh, if you take this train, it overtakes the one you need so you can pick it up at the first stop.' Nuh uh, it does not. So I sit around for 20 minutes and end up taking the local train to the same destination as the train I was on. I can get to my motel from it, but rather than a mile, I have to travel three, which isn't doable on foot. Sorry, work, I was fed up with waiting around so am going to be cabbing...

Bring back London black cabs with the Knowledge. I respect you so much now. Bring back grid system roads, New York. I will never complain again. I give the taxi driver the address and he can't find it on his Tom Tom, so I find the exact route on Google maps. Remember, it's three miles and there are two turns. Left then right. He just couldn't get his head round it and just wasn't happy to drive until his Tom Tom was telling him what to do AND he had left his meter running. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr. And what do I do? I still tip him. Decently. What a doofus.

* Tip for Brits: when in the US, look at a word, think about how you'd pronounce it in UK then disregard this completely. In fact, pronounce the opposite way you would do naturally.

a weekend as a tourist

I've been a proper tourist this weekend! baby sister and I had grand plans for Friday morning. instead we were nearly late for our tour as we were watching people carve up pumpkins on telly. to be fair, the guy who won was immense. he made this Medusa head with moving snakes coming in and out of her head.

 we then went on a tour around grand central station and the Chrysler building. we were introduced to this amazing bar called the Campbell apartments, which is inside the station. brilliant story in that a rich couple used to own it as an apartment for when they were in the city. imagine, right next to the station! our guide was the most expressive bloke I've ever met. big arms, big gestures, stretchy face. I hope that makes some sense.

we then went to Xian Famous Foods for some beloved cumin lamb. theo
wner was in that day making the hand pulled noodles and I have to say, they were the best I'd had there.

we then joined the queue for uniqlo free Fridays at Moma. I can't believe it's taken me so long to go there. the array of stuff they have is immense, including the phallic creations of Yasuma, which the Boy and I saw at the Tate last year. As ever, the sheer scale of paintings is incredible. Monet's water-lilies over three canvases is vast and Matisse's 'the dance' is interesting in the way it plays with perspective. Moma does an excellent job in showing you how each era of art builds on each other. really fascinating and so worth it! even the queue to get in for free wasn't too bad. 45 minutes and in by four.

we then hot-footed it to barcade for beers and old arcade games. I stuck with what I know e.g. geeky tetris. I even got onto the scoreboard at 8th position, which is impressive stuff given that we were in a geeky arcade bar. you'll find me as Evi as I couldn't work out how to control the letters. we ended the evening in a diner and I ate chicken and waffles with fake maple syrup. pretty dirty.

 Saturday, I officially broke my sister. I made her traipse around Manhattan doing new York open house. we saw one apartment that was only 400 and something square feet and had a whole wall that ran along a track so you could separate the room out when you had visitors. another apartment had a puddle of water on the ground floor, over which you had to traverse on wooden blocks. his bed overhung the ledge of thefirstfirst floor and he had a prison toilet in his bedroom. the apartment also has a waterfall that runs around the perimeter of the apartment. extreme. we also went to the Freemason's head lodge. it frustrated the hell out of me. it's basically an old boys' club. every question that was posed was basically batted away or deferred to someone on a different floor. the most I learnt was that the colour of each room matches the tiles in that room. oh for Christ's sake. we were running late so jumped into a tour of one room late and left early. the Boy's face was bright red, which my baby sister hasn't noticed. had she known, she said she would have just shouted out " boring!" to embarrass him more.

after an epic combination plate meal at stage restaurant - stuffed cabbage, bortsch, bread, sausage, pierogi - my sister said 'no more!' she went to bed whilst the boy and I went out for more. it was getting late and stuff was closing. we got to one place that was closing, but the guide kindly showed us the apartment through the window. hopefully, the pictures will upload OK this time.

 we then went for the world's cheapest and amazing massage. that was followed by Texan barbeque at mighty Quinn's. the brontosaurus rib is immense (think the size of my arm) and the wings deliciously tangy.

today, we entered the book of Mormon lottery but weren't successful. apparently Sunday matinees are the lightest so we will be back. instead we went to see avenue Q, which was very entertaining. not side-splitting, but so clever and impressive, particularly when you realise there are only 7 actors playing multiple characters. for lunch we went to pure Thai cookhouse, which seemed to have really authentic flavours. the meats and seafood were accessible for western palates, but super tasty. tea was homemade fish tacos. additional pineapples this time, which pumped up the tastiness volume. 24 hours on the clock with baby sister :_(

chan quota in NYC doubles

where have the days gone? my sister arrived on Tuesday after saying au revoir to S&S and changing the towels and sheets on Sunday night.

she seems to be hitting her stride after arriving and being in that strange I've-been-here-twice-before-so- have-done- all-the- sights problem. I desperately want to show her a good time but I'm fast running out of fun activities that are unique and special for each guest.

having said this, cocktail bars and speakeasies still always hit the spot. yesterday was pouring ribbons, which had a vibe like the Hawksmoor steak restaurants back home. they had an interesting key to show howr potent and adventurous the cocktails were. the Boy's was doubly safe on both counts but was delicious. mine was reserved alcohol-wise but was meant to be exotic in flavour. yes, if you count a pina colada as exotic.

tonight was another speakeasy by the name of the blind barber. it was cool but seemed a bit fake for my liking. tomorrow I've planned out another one of my ridiculously overambitious days: have a lie-in; get a haircut; go on a guided tour of grand central station; go to Xian famous food for lunch; queue for Moma; go to Williamsburg for drinks... who wants to bet on how much we'll get done?

 oh, I also nearly killed my baby sister by taking her to tabata. she looked like she was going to throw up, pass out or both after about 36 minutes. she even stuck two fingers up at me after set one of six exercises. hope her legs unseize themselves by tomorrow otherwise she'll find what I have planned tough going.

speakeasy dollhouse

firstly, congratulations to J and B for tying the knot. wishing them many years of happiness together.

the day started with a leisurely brunch with Angela, who I haven't seen in eight years. she looks the same and it was all very natural and easy. Hearth, the restaurant has a dish called trotter fiorentina, which is supposed to be one of the top ten brunch dishes in new York. they served me up the wrong dish, a pork steak with rosemary, so gave that to us for free and gave me my trotter dish too. both were delicious. very different and great to alternate mouthfuls; there'd be a meaty, rosemary crunch one minute followed by a gooey, juicy mouthful the next.

 had my first geocaching experience, the first was hidden on a lamppost and the second was under a railing. it remains to be seen whether I'll get hooked onto it.

we then went to the world's biggest fancy dress shop ready for our outing to a speakeasy whodunnit in the evening. S's purple patch continued and we got a free drink at the bar before the play started. I need to bottle that guy's luck.

 speakeasy dollhouse is based on the true story of the writer's grandfather. he was killed by the local barber, who was then acquitted. every audience member is given a role and we're encouraged to get dressed up. the interactiveness of the whole thing meant ridiculous dialogue and confusion. I'd find myself listening in on a conversation thinking that it was part of the play before realising I was eavesdropping in on a personal conversation by random punters. oops!

I wasn't there to witness it myself but it sounds like the line of the night from amongst our friends went something like this: (friend ambles over to the judge character in the play), 'hello, judge. nice to meet you. I'm in politics too.' judge: 'oh yes? what kind?' friend: 'oh. um. you know. general politics.'

we then ended up at the Essex, a restaurant in the lower East side. I am perplexed still by how they managed to get their lobster ravioli so uniformly stripey. there were bands of yellow and black, which I think is made from squid ink, but how do they get the lines of colour so perfectly straight? what a mystery.

Jammiest couple ever

we have the delightful S&S staying with us right now. I have to say, they are the JAMMIEST pair ever. when the boys visited, it took them a couple of hours to get through immigration. my boss took around 2.5. S&S landed at 6.20pm and were at our apartment in Manhattan by 7.30pm.

 unfortunately for them they have had to live in squalor, as we had planned on tidying whilst they were queuing. then, they were able to book a table at Please Don't Tell, the speakeasy that led us to ruin when my mother-in-law came to visit. (we weren't able to get a reservation so ended up on the waiting list and drinking for about four hours on an empty stomach.)

then today, they entered the lottery for Book of Mormon and were the first names out of the hat. this is an incredible feat. I know a girl that entered it five times before getting tickets. bear in mind that the cheapest tickets are $180 with a restricted view. the lottery tickets are $32 each! as I said, jammiest couple alive.

lastly, I've been remiss in documenting my food exploits so for you, Ms James, the last few days I've eaten matzo ball soup and pastrami sandwich at Katz's deli; dim sum at mandarin court; and street tacos at Mercadito. highlights? pastrami at Katz's; pork belly and orange taco; tilapia and avocado taco. mmmmmm hungry now...