In one week I ate more calories, walked more miles, and spent more ‘friend time’ than I had in months in London! Rose and I had a 10k run in Central Park, which I absolutely loved and we worked our way through all the cocktails at Pegu Club, our favourite downtown bar where the doorman, K-Dawg, greeted both John and I by the name! It was good to be home…

And how weird that this strange city that I once loathed living in now feels like home to me. I can only hope that London will soon do the same!

Some new hotspots that we discovered include:

• The Hurricane Club – best frozen cucumber & mint rum cocktail ever
• The Bang Bang, sorry, Boom Boom Room at The Standard – gorgeous interiors and scary bathrooms
• Del Posto – most expensive Italian restaurant experience of my life – ha ha!
• Eataly – amazing Italian space with any type of Mediterranean food you can imagine…very New York!

And then of course we spent lots of time at the usual hangouts including:

• Joe’s Shanghai
• Supper
• Chelsea Market
• The Apple store (we didn’t have internet at home, so had to rush from free wi-fi spot to free wi-fi spot – such techno-holics…)
• Shake Shack
• Menkui-Tei – still the best ramen in town (in fact, we went there twice in the one week visit!)

You know, looking back on this list (and I didn’t even include the 3am pizza slices or the cream cheese bagels on here), the 3kg I gained does not seem that excessive…

We got back to London on Friday around noon and the entire city was covered in snow – quite a bit colder than the weather in New York, actually. Have spent the last couple of days mostly cooped up inside trying to shake the world’s most hideous flu – probably due to my overindulgence of the past week…a small price to pay, I say!

Strangely enough I didn’t really feel sad. I felt more…angry. And I decided to hold on to that anger for the whole day, just to prevent myself from crying, crying, crying. Because I figured that once I started, the waterfall would most likely not stop. In three short years, Manhattan had crept into my system and embedded itself in my psyche as ‘home’. The freezing, sunny days. The long walks in the park. Yes, even the vomit spots on the sidewalks. The rude walkers (“Haaay, I’m waaaalkin’ here”) and the friendly coffee cart guys. The impatient cab drivers and the polite police officers. With every fiber in my body I wanted, no, I needed, to stay.

But my brain overrode my feelings and I counted on the benefits of living closer to home, of being nearer to friends and family (but what about the friends who have become our family in New York?) and of being able to travel to Spain and Italy for a weekend. And so I kept packing. And packing and packing. Four oversized suitcases and two cabin bags later, I had a quick shower, pulled on my jeans, boots and warm coat and gave our Super’s wife a teary hug. (Sofaya was crying so much she couldn’t say goodbye and kept offering us a place to stay if we ever wanted to visit!) John, being his fabulous self, had organized a super stretch limo to take us to the airport and as we bundled our luggage and selves into the back of this long black car, I put on my brave face. This was it.

We popped a CD, made specially by Rose and titled ‘Gotham – What will you take away’ into the player, turned up the volume and John popped the cork on a bottle of Vuerve. And then, on the second glass, the tears started rolling. Uncontrollably. “Turn the car around. Turn it around,” I kept thinking, but I smiled and shook my head when John wiped my tears away and told me how lucky we were to be leaving on top. We have had the best of times. We made friends that will last us a lifetime. We went to the best parties. We did things that I would never have thought that a girl from a small town in Africa could ever do. And we were leaving it all behind for another bold adventure.

By the time the stretch limo dropped us at JFK my tears had dried and I was focusing on getting the sleeping tablets (the poor man’s business class, of course) ready and organizing us some dinner. We got on the plane and were both asleep by the time dinner was served (and I’m a bit disappointed by this as I notoriously love the lasagna on British Airways. No, really. It’s delicious). Six hours later our plane touched down at Heathrow and all our bags made it through with no problem.

We had arrived. And inside I was sad, sad, sad.

Now, after three days of non-stop rain, no sunshine and a cold that cuts right to the bone, we have organized cellphones, bank accounts and have even gone grocery shopping. We have walked miles in the rain and even attended a Goldfish concert on Leicester Square on the first night here. We are regrouping and starting over. And perhaps it won’t be so bad. Through my friend Shelley I’ve found a waxing salon and even gotten into a bookclub. She’s also hooked me up with a hairstylist whom I’m hoping to go see next week to pay some attention to my tresses. We have dinners lined up for next week, and, most importantly, John has announced that we will be going to Paris for my birthday on Thursday.

Life is looking better. The big question at the moment is what to do with this blog. Because after all, The City can only be Manhattan, right? Laurel kindly suggested I change the name of my blog to ‘Sue in the Loo’. After complaining about the non-stop miserable rain, Helena suggested ‘Sue in the Shitty’ (what do you think?).

Either way, this is going to be a whole new adventure. One that I’m ready for. Bring it.

Note the dress code…Hot!

Preston is the premier event planner, responsible for the weddings and birthday parties of people like Donald Trump, Oprah, Uma Thurman, Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones and with this party he surely did not fail to impress. Preston transformed a pretty ugly military hall into a purple and pink wonderland with a large runway / printing press onto which he projected moving images from his book, seemingly falling off a scroll attached to the ceiling. Larger-than-life trees, fitted with ribbons and crystal flanked the entryway and huge wire globes were alight with battery-operated ice cubes, creating a space that was just…breathtaking.

Oh and don’t get me started on the food. Entire stations dedicated to dessert? That’s my kind of party! Not only was the decor spectacular, but he also organized some top notch entertainment, starting with four, uhm, naked models, covering the basics with only pink and purple flowers. Nothing wrong with showing your guests some candy, right? However, when Gloria Gainer, and Martha Washington both performed, it took this party to another level – never has “I Will Survive” sounded this good.

I was also delighted to hear that Preston’s partner, Theo Bleckmann, was nominated for a Grammy – you go Theo!

This party was truly not a bad one to end my “social career” in New York with. I know we’ll remember this party for a long time coming, and if we ever were to forget, there is a gorgeous signed copy of Celebrations on the coffee table to help remind me.

John and I divvied up responsibilities and tasks to ensure that we get everything done in the three weeks that we have left before we leave and the selling of all furniture has fallen on my plate. And boy oh boy have I been selling! The full-length mirrors went first, then the modern bookcases and the comfy swivel chairs. Now there are a couple of things left, but I feel pretty confident that we’ll be able to get rid of all of these before our time is up.

Considering that we arrived in the US three years ago with a total of four suitcases and a smallish case, filled with boots, photo albums and some small trinkets, we really have come a long way! And it’s strange how detached we have both become in regard to these furniture pieces that we spent so much energy, money and time in collecting. That dining room table that we agonized over, rented a car to drive two hours and pick it up? Sell it. Same for the book cases that we trawled the net for, trying to find the ultimate best deal on. Sold. And it’s quite liberating in a way. We are leaving New York to start over. Start new. Fresh.

Now if only they sold the energy required to do all of this in small little sweet tablets. I’d definitely be first in line to get some for when the whole process of searching, agonizing, bargaining and shopping starts all over on British soil!

For us this new love is London. John was offered a great position within his company’s office and we have to start this new affair in mid-February. While neither of us feel quite ready to leave New York (how can you ever feel ready?), I have to be honest an say that  we are both excited about the prospect of living closer to family and friends – and even on the same time zone – and being back in a European culture.

See, I don’t think you can ever really ‘be done’ with New York. It’s like drug and it’s one I’m hooked on. Now every time I buy a latte from my coffee cart guy I think ‘Will I ever see this guy again?’ and when I side step a puddle of vomit on the sidewalk I do so with less disgust in my heart, because it is New York vomit, after all. The big apple will be hard to get over. But I’m opening my heart to whatever will come next.

At the moment I’m compiling a list of all the things that we still have to do before we go. And my list is long. It’s like dragging your ex to just one last supper, because the conversation is just so good. And if you will, I’ll drag you along on these final experiences so we can cry together over the loss of our mutual love, New York.

Part of what makes New York so fabulous to live in is the safety, and I know it sounds unbelievable to those who haven’t been here yet (and those who lived here ten years ago!), but I feel so safe walking by myself in the city. There is a very visible police presence everywhere and being a cop is such a matter of patriotic duty they get a lot of respect. In addition to looking out for the safety of tourists and locals all over, they are also a huge source of information (Sorry officer, but do you know how to get to so-and-so?) and they are always pleasant and helpful.

So imagine my delight yesterday when I finally saw someone getting arrested in Times Square! Finally, a real criminal getting the New York law in action treatment! (Sorry, this sounds very rude of me, but it was truly a first for me.) We arrived on the scene shortly after this police van had apparently pulled in front of the alleged suspect (love my cop-talk!) and two cops had this guy in a vice grip, leaning against the van. One arm up in the air, the other against his back, the suspect had purple hair, was wearing a purple shirt and these baggy jeans that the cool ghetto kids wear. And he was swearing. A lot.

Sam and I stopped in our tracks and took in the scene. So there’s the police drama going on in the background, and directly in front of it is this bridal couple pretending to run through Times Square for their photographer, with thousands and thousands of people walking by, taking photos of the wedding couple, the suspect, the buildings, the lights, the people… It was truly like something out of a movie.

And I thought to myself that if you had to get arrested, Times Square would probably be the very, very last place on earth to do that in. I mean, considering the high volume of tourists with cameras, you probably don’t want to have your face attached to the body in cuffs? Our suspect soon figured that out too and asked the cops to pull his shirt over his head to protect his identity! This is when I figured ‘what the hell’ and pulled out my camera to get in on the photo-snapping action too.

This was such a ‘New York Moment’ I couldn’t stop giggling!

The press has been rampant with reviews (both good and less good) of ‘ASteady Rain’, a new play with a twelve-week run featuring Hugh Jackman (Wolverine) and Daniel Craig (Bond, James Bond). It’s not easy to get tickets for this show, but Sam used her whit and charm (and flirted shamelessly with the ticketing agent) and secured us two amazing seats in row H, right in the center of the row. After a quick brunch yesterday morning, we made our way down to West 45th Street and got in line to grab our seats.

I was glued to my seat and the 90-minute performance (featuring only the two actors and minimal stage props) went by in a flash. A Steady Rain tells the story of two Chicago cops who are lifelong friends and their differing accounts of a few harrowing days that changed their lives forever. It was fantastic! And yes, Hugh Jackman is even more beautiful in real life than he is on stage. Daniel Craig is also quite the looker, but has grown a mustache for the play which is somewhat less becoming…

At the end of the play they auctioned off their (unique-to-this-show’s-sweat) undershirts at $4,000 each to raise funds for Broadway Cares / Equity Fights AIDS and they were selling a photo opportunity with the two of them at $1,500 each. (Never had my credit card burnt such a hole in my pocket, I’ll tell you that!).

Hugh Jackman coming out of the theater (Blue cap & scarf on the right).

We finally booked our place, opting to go for the ‘Everyone Cooks Everything: Healthful Dishes‘ course and signed up about six weeks in advance. Apparently all we had to do was show up ready to cook and be hungry. Yes, you actually have to prepare and cook your own food and then serve yourself, sit down and eat your own concoction! All this over the course of four hours on a Sunday evening. So we were sure to have a late breakfast and no lunch and by the time we caught a cab to head downtown to the school, John and I were both feeling less friendly and in need of some serious nourishment. (Enough said, right?)

Luckily, we got right into it after a quick menu discussion with our chef. Eight couples (some married, some mom-and-daughter partnerships) started chopping shallots, adding a dash of this and a splash of that and soon all the gas burners in the test kitchen were going and delicious aromas filled the air. Our menu consisted of Bibb Salad with Warm Cider Vinaigrette and Asian Pears; Cedar Plank Salmon with Blood Orange Glaze; Roasted Asparagus, Peas, and Basil; Herbed Quinoa (a weird but strangely delicious newness for me); and Greek Yogurt Panna Cotta with Strawberries Soaked in a Balsamic Reduction – possibly the reason why we chose this particular course. I have discovered a love for Panna Cotta recently and could never have imagined it this easy to make. (If you don’t like Panna Cotta and get a fancy dinner invitation from me, you might want to reconsider…it’s bound to make an appearance somewhere! Ha ha!)

After making the Panna Cotta, we put together the salad and then all sat down to eat it before getting the vegetables and salmon going. We finished the meal with a big sit-down dinner with wine and fascinating conversation – what a great experience!

So if you find yourself stumped for a creative gift idea this year, take it from me…the recipients will truly appreciate this one (even if it takes them eleven months to use it)!

This recently happened to me. The subway was packed as I was heading downtown for dinner in SOHO and as the mass of people got off the train and shuffled towards the exit of the China Town train station, the pack slowed down – as it invariably does when the group reaches the stairs. One thing about New York subway stations is that most of them are underground and very few have escalators. In the Big Apple we mostly rely on our feet and legs to carry us up and down the stairs, streets, tunnels and bridges. So when a big throng of people all head for the stairs at the same time, there is invariably someone at the front of the pack who is at a slower speed than the rest of the crowd, so the group always…slows…down…

I was caught in the midst of this slow group and we started ascending the stairs up into the open air. Picture this – the stairway is pretty steep and when a group of people are on it, you move pretty slowly. For at least five seconds, you are literally nose-to-butt with at least one stranger directly in front of you while the upward shuffle continues. Now let me paint the picture for you. There’s me, nose-to-butt with some small Chinese man. I’ll slow this picture down even more. I don’t have my ipod in my ears (which is strange, because that’s my usual subway-getup…it protects the soul from the noise and the crazy people) and I’m inhaling the fresh air after being stuck underground for the past 40 minutes, tunneling my way from the Upper West Side down to trendy SOHO. A slow muffled pffffffffffffffffttttttttt makes its way into my ears, but before my brain have the time to register what it is, my nostrils are accosted by a smell too purid to describe in detail here.

The little Chinese man had just farted in my face. It was possibly a fart that he’d been holding on to for a while, not wanting to be mean to his fellow train passengers. Upon smelling the fresh air, the little Chinese man must have thought that it was finally safe to let that prisoner escape and he did. Straight into my face and up my nostrils, the sickly green smell reverberating off my sinus cavity walls and landing on the back of my tongue, making me pretty sure that he had some sort of fried pork for lunch that day.

The SOUND! I should have been a little quicker, just a little more ‘with-it’, but I was, for the moment, too caught up in the fresh air, the throng of people and thinking about the fact that I had a small Chinese man’s butt in my face, wondering about whether these types of things ever happened when it did. It actually happened to me.

I still get palpitations thinking about it, and it’s been a while since this happened. Soon I might even be able to talk about it. For now, writing will be my therapy.

This strange phenomena has happened every year since we’ve been here and I finally decided to look into it. Not surprising, there is a name for it! They call it ‘Indian Summer’ and it is, according to wikipedia, “is an informal expression given to a period of sunny, warm weather in autumn in the northern hemisphere, typically in late October or early November, after the leaves have turned due to an onset of frost but before the first snowfall.”

Sue is going GREEN!

I don’t really care what it’s called…I’d just like for it to stick around as long as possible!

That said, there are some mixed emotions that come into play here. I finally bit the bullet and invested in a pair of (green!) Hunter Wellies to keep these African toes dry during the upcoming snow / sleet / rainy season and I’m dying to break them out of their fancy Scottish box… Strange to be this torn between two seasons. But I think the wellies can wait while we enjoy this amazing summer…