Travelogue : American roads

In which I like driving in my car it’s not quite a jagwhar.

On one of my regular sojurns to New York we were taken on a road trip by Mrs G’s father, not the kind that involves an RV or a brush with the police, but a very nice road trip up Long Island to see some pretty towns, eat at a roadside diner and taste some wines.

Also to stop and look at trees, because I’m British and therefore the logic was that I should like trees. I had never shown any hint of arborphila or waxed lyrical about a magnificent birch but we were still going to stop in a layby so I could get my wood fix.

PHOTO-NY Trees

At one point, about 80 miles from Manhattan, it made me realise that living on such a small island this is almost all the way to London. Which is a place I would only consider getting to by train. Also to just go out and drive for a day is almost unheard of in England, a major tourist destination is never more than 20 miles away. But America is a big place and as such is allowed space to breath and that space is connected by the strangeness that are American roads.

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Choosing my sports teams

In which I choose which team colours to wear.

It is the start of the batball season and it has reminded me that I have not yet provided my allegiance to any US Sports team. With the potential of being a future New Yorker I need to make a pick of which teams I am going to follow when I spend my life in front of ESPN.

I’m quite good at supporting non-local teams (after all I support AC Milan and the New Zealand All Blacks) so this shouldn’t be too much of an issue. However I do need to consider a few factors.

Can I support the really successful teams, will this make me a glory hunter? What if the team I choose has a deadly rivalry with the team of my new American family? Is the team known for being mean? Does the jersey look good?

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Why NY bagels are the best

In which I experience bread based heaven.

The Menu.

Ingredients: Bready goodness.

Preparation: Getting my coat on to go to the Bagel Emporium.

Cost: $

Amuse-bouche

Let me start with a caveat, the UK do not have bagels. It may look like a bagel, but it the same way I resemble a basketball player from a distance, this is a bagel in shape only. Or as Mrs G said “they’re basically a piece of bread with a hole in it”. It is a Polo loaf.

You can buy a bag which proudly announces it’s authentically New Yorker, upon showing this to the Queens originated wife she just scoffed. She did the same thing when Grandad G thrust a bag of “New York” bagels in her face. I think the reaction he was hoping for was a happy look in her eyes as she realised that she could get a piece of home from a UK supermarket.
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Moving from New York to Coventry

In which I wish I could sleep in the city that never does.

In the beginning we weren’t going to be here, I should have been writing this on a keyboard without a £ symbol and having to work out the date in the wrong format. When Me and Mrs G first started a’courting we planned to live in New York.

As I now sit opposite an industrial estate in the Midlands and not gazing on the Brooklyn Bridge (like we could afford those rents) it is evident that plan failed. Still even if we can’t live in New York part of my heart is there already.

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Looking out my window at home

In which home is where it’s easiest to live.

Living with an American I am used to the thought that I may have a nomadic life, our family by its nature will be one with a foot on either continent. Without moving one extended family 3,000 miles in one direction me and Mrs G will never both be ‘home’. We could lead a life where we jet back and forth between New York and the English Midlands, but sitting here looking out of the window suffering from jet lag shows I’m not cut out for the Transatlantic lifestyle.

We’ve just got home from New York leaving the bright lights of a double named non-sleeping city for the, well um, exemplary concrete architecture of Coventry. A couple of days ago I was sitting in a living room where the streets with a ‘th’, ‘nd’ or ‘rd’ in itheir name. I getting on the train to Grand Central instead of the London Midland to Birmingham New Street. I’m happy that we have set roots down but what if we were in a position to move around more. Where would I go?

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Being a Good Samaritan

In which I let someone else talk about the kindness of strangers.

I thought for today I should let Mrs G speak, it’s my way of being kind and trying to get more people to listen to here rather than me. She’ll shout at me as she’ll want to have written this herself but this is from a comment she made on an old post of mine so I think I own the copyright, but I think it shows that kindness is out there in the most unsuspecting of places.

Coming from what is arguably the most notoriously selfish city in the world, NYC, I wonder. I see people refuse to step aside to let others onto a subway car because they want to lean on the doors. My mother had a period where she was severely slowed because of a bad hip and still limping to work every day, yet commuters would still shove her, or get irritated when they were stuck behind her on a staircase.

And that’s to say nothing of the muggings, scams, drunken vomiting, and the rest of the scope of activities which show a complete disregard for other people.The NYC subway could be the perfect example of this argument.Indeed, one questions motives. If someone on the subway starts to talk to someone else, motives are questioned. I knew a guy from the Midwest who used to give up seats to women, and they would eye him suspiciously, wondering what he was after. If you bump into someone because the train jars you, brace yourself for a fight. Continue reading “Being a Good Samaritan”

Making the same mistakes

In which making the same mistakes over and over is not a problem.

They say the definition of madness is making the same mistakes over and over again. It could be keep gambling your money away, going out with the wrong kind of people or just writing the same post that you did 10 days ago.

I’ve made plenty of mistakes that I keep on repeating, but my tenacity in finding new ways to go wrong has got me to the great place in life I’m currently in. It took a walk around the zoo to make me realise this.

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New York menu

In which I eat a proper bagel.

I’m looking out of a strange window as we are now in New York (after a long second leg where The Felciraptor forgot to sleep and ended up completely crazy). I’m still pretty jet lagged so again I will keep it short.

Other than caffeine the only thing keeping me going is the food. I love the town Nana G is living in because the food is amazing, and (just like this morning) it begins with the bagel.
New York bagel with salmon salad spread
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