The Madhattan Tea Party

Distance Traveled:   58,840 kms (BNE-MEL-SYD-BKK-PKT-BKK-CNX-BKK-PP-SR-BB-PP-HCMC-NC-TH-HA-H-L-MR-AG-SV-TF-AC-LL-ML-CZ-TF-CZ-SV-L-BP-ZG-SP-LJ-VN-PG-SZ-MN-ZR-GV-ML-FC-RM-FG-MN-VC-CT-RM-PDX-NYC)

Time Difference: -14 hours (from Brisbane)

Soundtrack: Muse (before they were shit), Bluegrass Student Union, still getting into Amy Winehouse (she suits NY), and early in the week I even listened to a bit of Vanja's jazz, voluntarily.  Not for long though. :-)
Celebrities Spotted so far: Alec Baldwin, Michelle Obama, Carson Kressley

Currently Inspired by: Re-reading Lord of the Rings for what has to be the fiftieth time at least as a wee celebration for finishing my novel.  For finishing anything actually - I'm such a great starter.  Thanks for your help Professor Tolkien, I knew going on that pilgrimage to your pub in Oxford and asking for it was a good idea!  Did it really need to take seven years though?

Stacks: None!  I'm as sure footed as a mountain goat, because this be my territory, biatch.
Words written: 94,473.  FIRST DRAFT COMPLETE! Damn that feels good.

Madhattan itself

So Manhattan in the rain goes from merely maniacally eccentric to strap-em-in, hold-em-down batshit crazy, as umbrella-less folks push for space under awnings, fashionistas slip and slide around on their Manolos and suicidal pedestrians decide that the three inch gap between two speeding taxis is sufficient space for them to dash across the oily roads against the lights. The oncoming vehicles deal with this in the same manner that they deal with any kind of annoyance on the roads, which is to continue hurtling towards said annoyance at high speeds, but with one hand pressed firmly down on the horn. Traffic in the city is about as calm and orderly as the maximum security wing of a mental hospital for armed and violent sociopaths on the day when the meds run out, but with less compassion and common sense. 

War Horse. Never heard of it? Nor had I, but it's a Broadway production and one I wouldn't have seen if it were not for a barbershop friend from Australia who was here for a few days after international and wanted to go. What a shame it would have been if I had missed out on this experience. My understanding is it is coming to Australia at the end of the year and I highly recommend it to anyone who likes plays / musicals. (It has some music in it, but it's more of a background thing). 

Inside a Broadway Theatre

The production contains none of the lighthearted cheese of Mamma Mia, or that particular brand of Broadway flash and humour that you find even in so called dramas, but it is by no means understated or unimpressive. Quite the opposite in fact: it is loud and full of throbbing theatricality, visual and auditory stimulation and incredible staging. With comparatively little set and few props, it may be a scaled down set up but it is by no means simple, with loads of talented actors, sound engineers and puppeteers packing a huge punch with everything they do have. If I have one criticism (and I do) the lead actor either gave an annoying performance of the main human character or the character himself is actually annoying. Either way, I found myself having to fight to stay on his whiny little side. Incredible theatre however, and were it not for the production of The Tempest I saw in Stratford which was much plainer but was, after all, Shakespeare and the most beautifully acted Shakespeare I've ever experienced, it would be the best play I've ever seen. I jumped, cringed, cried (several times) and gasped. It's an emotional rollercoaster, and an intense one at that! Not for the young 'uns or faint of heart. 

Chicago promo ladies

I have rather arbitrarily anointed Wednesday as "Broadway Day" here. Why not? If I make myself stick to one show per week then I can't go too crazy or broke, and I'll still get to see everything I want to see in plus a couple of extras, hopefully hidden gems.  “Chicago” is finishing up its run at the end of July so I am going to try to see it this week, and I’m very much looking forward to the return trip to Times Square to get the tickets.  No book or other entertainment device is required to wait in line in that ridiculous place, all you need to do is stand back and watch the Freak Parade.  There’s an almost nude Gandhi type character who wears little white short shorts and a Statue of Liberty crown, the Naked Cowboy of course, who most people have heard of, the Weed Head who is a guy with a cardboard box on his head and a sign begging for money for ganja (honesty! How refreshing) and actual real life strong men with bulging muscles who will lift you over their heads for five dollars.  I’m Home.

Group sing with my new chorus + others. I'm way on the left!

I have a chorus, hurrah hurrah!  On Thursday evening I went along to a Voices of Gotham rehearsal, a male barbershop chorus who recently performed in Portland, and did well too.  I think they’re just fabulous and I met a couple of the guys at contest, so I rocked up for a fantastic evening of singing and got more than I bargained for.  A new prospective Sweet Adelines (the female bbs organisation) chorus called the Sirens of Gotham actually rehearses on the same night in the same building, downstairs, and they were there.  I learned a song and sang with them on the night, and they said I was welcome to join them each week for the next eight weeks that I am here, which I jumped at, obviously!  There is also a Brooklyn Chorus for women, some members of which were also there on the night, and they invited me to their rehearsal on Monday and also offered me a place to stay over afterwards because getting from Brooklyn to Jersey is a pain in the butt, particularly late at night.  I swear to god I’ve met many of the nicest people I’ve ever met in my life here.  I can’t reiterate this enough – NYC people do not deserve their pushy, aggressive reputation!  They’re absolutely lovely, and I don’t want to leave!  Particularly now I’m officially a Siren… oh yeah baby.  Can you hear my Siren call?

Zed with the two beasts

I have made another really cool friend in Jersey who actually has two dogs, which is fabulous because now I have pet cuddles as well!  I had been missing my cats a lot, more so lately since I won’t be seeing either of them when I return.  As you may remember, Marius was killed by a hit and run driver in January, and I found out a little over a week ago that Louis died also from an infection at the end of June.  My family didn’t want to tell me while I was having such a good time in Portland, which is sweet.  I’ve just kind of been dealing with it, which is why I haven’t said anything until now.  But if you remember and loved my beautiful little boys, please take a second to think about them at some time will you?  In the meantime I am soaking up lots of furry puppy love from naughty-as-hell Logan and Annabella.  This place has become like home to me really quickly.  I guess the Big Apple is used to integrating new folks - It’s a shame I don’t qualify to stay.    I am certainly approaching poor, and I’m definitely tired.  I could huddle, but there is only one of me so I guess it’s on the masses part that my suitability falls down.  Particularly lately.  I’ve been losing weight which is pretty amazing, considering the amount of delectable pizza, veggie burgers, tea shops and cupcakes on offer here!

Sunset on Manhattan from Jersey

Jersey is cool.  People who live in the city hang shit on Jersey for some reason, I guess because it isn't Manhattan and everyone who lives in Manhattan thinks it is the centre of the universe.  I can kind of see their point, but who would want to live in the centre of the universe?  Too damn noisy.  I'm very happy with my decision to stay out of it and just visit, and I have actually spent more of my days  hanging around Jersey than I have in the city.  I haven't even done the major touristy stuff yet, apart from a couple of Museums and Times Square.  Perhaps next week, although I'm in no rush.  I've been swimming, writing, Skyping, going for walks, going out for lunch with friends, playing with dogs, shopping and checking out the absolutely incredible view from here over the Hudson.  I am feeling blessed and utterly content, with the occasional rush of pure happiness thrown in for good measure.

Agent hunting has begun.  Sort of.  I have looked up publishers here and have found only one that is currently accepting unsolicited fantasy manuscripts directly from writers.  As a result I began to look at agents instead since I’ll obviously have to get one before I can do anything, and the first agency website I looked at said “Not currently accepting anything more in the science fiction / fantasy genre” and I had a mini anxiety attack and had to go lie down for a bit.  I have found a website called the Literary Marketplace which gives information regarding agents, so I guess it’s just going to be a suck it up, sift and research job this week, as I wait for feedback on my first draft.  I’m sure the market can’t be so glutted with fantasy that ALL agents are currently not accepting.  Even writing that sentence makes me feel a little faint!  I clearly need to toughen up a lot!

You can click here to see my latest lot of photos from around Manhattan and Jersey.

Whoever would like to give me feedback on the second draft when it’s ready, please let me know.

Til Next We Speak

*LOVE*

N

These Vagabond Shoes

Distance Traveled:   58,840 kms (BNE-MEL-SYD-BKK-PKT-BKK-CNX-BKK-PP-SR-BB-PP-HCMC-NC-TH-HA-H-L-MR-AG-SV-TF-AC-LL-ML-CZ-TF-CZ-SV-L-BP-ZG-SP-LJ-VN-PG-SZ-MN-ZR-GV-ML-FC-RM-FG-MN-VC-CT-RM-PDX-NYC)

Time Difference: -14 hours (from Brisbane)

Soundtrack: Phantom, Clare Bowditch, Presets, Amy Winehouse

Currently Inspired by: "There is a crack in everything.  That's how the light gets in" Leonard Cohen

Stacks: None!
Words written: 92,815.  So close!

Amazing place

I’ve had this wholly predictable Sinatra earworm for the last three days and am feeling completely unoriginal.  Adding to that feeling is the fact that when people here ask me what I do and I tell them I’ve (almost) written a book they go “oh, you too” in distinctly unenthusiastic tones and then continue on with whatever they were talking about.  Thank god I’m not staying in Brooklyn, where you can’t throw a pencil without hitting six starving writers who are sitting in a vegan café with their soy lattes and sharing a copy of the New York Times (it’s expensive!), flipping straight to the book review section where they can happily while away a morning, chowing down on sour grapes and eviscerating the latest bestseller for its amateurish writing.  It’s actually making me feel quite panicky.

All these crazy cities I’ve been to in the lead up to arriving here have kind of been my practice runs for the biggest of all, this gigantic melting pot of the hopefuls and the hopeless, united and unique under a starless sky. The stars are all on the ground here, and there is only so much ground to be grabbed, so you need to be a combination of quick, smart, talented and lucky to make it.  After just a few days of the frightening anonymity that this place is capable of delivering, my hope flaps in shredded tangles, and I’m really gripping onto it with my fingernails.  It’s a death grip though!  I’ll breathe and reboot, don’t worry.

Love how out there this place was

Do not think that I don’t love it here, because I absolutely do.  Heart and soul, New York City has wooed me and won me over with a minimum of fuss and coquetry.  That flirty shit doesn’t fly in New York.  It takes what it wants.  If you don’t like what’s on offer, move on sister.  There are plenty of fish in the sea, and plenty of seas to suit the fish.  For someone like me, an honest type A who constantly struggles with the societal pressure to moderate my behaviour and censor my speech in order to avoid upsetting all the sensitive types out there (why don’t they ever have to work on moderating their sensitivities to avoid upsetting me?), it is a relief to be around pretty much an entire city of no nonsense plain speakers who are also capable of being polite and pleasant.  

From the lovely ladies in Central Park who squished up on their picnic blanket to make room for me to sit while watching a concert, to the guy who sheltered me under his umbrella when it started to rain and the girl who asked me if I needed help when she just saw me looking lost in the subway, I have had nothing but the most positive interactions with New Yorkers.  The service is great of course, although it was recently and rather cynically suggested to me that this has financial motivation, I think it’s more of a cultural expectation than anything else.  I mean, tipping at least 15% is so expected here it’s pretty much considered mandatory, regardless of the service you get.  I guess the “at least” part is the operative part of that sentence.  Hourly rates here for servers are stupidly low.

The reason I was in Central Park (not that one needs a reason) is because the New York Philharmonic puts on free concerts in parks in the five New York Boroughs every year in summer.  The five boroughs of NY for those who are curious are Manhattan, The Bronx, Queens, Brooklyn and Staten Island.  Although from where I am staying in New Jersey (in a suburb rather confusingly named West New York) I can literally look to my left and see all of Manhattan and also some of the other boroughs, I am in a completely separate state.  With traffic it takes about twenty minutes on the bus to get from here into Times Square.  

Fireworks after the concert

So back to the Philharmonic.  The orchestra comes and sets up on a stage, someone with a whole lotta cash sponsors the event, Alec Baldwin randomly walks out to introduce the show for some reason and New Yorkers come out in droves with picnic blankets, wine bottles and yummy food, and basically sit there in the balmy summer evening listening to a world class orchestra play beautiful music for a few hours.  To top off the experience there was a massive fireworks display over the darkened Manhattan skyline.  It was one of the more memorable experiences of my trip, and was one of the very rare times over the last eight months that I thought to myself “I wish I had someone here with me to share this moment with me”.

The fab Chelsea market

Speaking of company, I have made a couple of friends already, which was quick work and also something of a relief given that it is going to be my home for the next two months.  My housemate slash landlord slash unpaid tour guide Vanja - a native Bosnian but a New Yorker in every other sense that it is possible to be - welcomed me into her apartment with three huge hugs and a “Welcome Home”, the nicest greeting I’ve heard for a while.  Us raggedy vagabonds like to feel at home occasionally, too you know!  Another lovely person I met while here took me to the Chelsea Markets that contain, among other things, a lobster shop where you can pop in and grab a freshly boiled lobster, fast food style to tuck into on your lunch break, and a very famous bread store that looks to me like it is going to be worth a second visit.  That’s the beauty of staying the amount of time I am.  I haven’t done the Statue of Liberty, Empire State etc yet, but they are definitely on the to-do list.  I can tick the rather startling Museum of Sex off, however.  A girl has priorities, you know, although I could have lived without the entire floor relating to animal sex.  (Animal and animal, not human and animal – thought it best to clarify that one).

New York pizza is absolutely delicious and very distinctive, and holds its own against the Italian style, although it is quite different.  My favourite so far has been from a store called 99 Cent Pizza where the slices cost, rather fraudulently, a dollar (I amused myself for a while wondering how many Americans sue over that advertising) but they are smaller than other places so you can get a piece for a snack without feeling sick.  With such dizzying displays of cuisine on offer, it is best to have small amounts of lots of different types.  Frankly I can’t believe I’m not sick of pizza yet.  I have also tried a Jewish item called a knish - not like knife, you pronounce it kuh-NISH - which to all appearances was a deep friend hunk of mashed potato with mustard in it and worrying, unidentifiable black things, with mustard in the middle and also slathered, like everything here, in tomato sauce and mustard on top.  It was like something students eat when they can’t afford to go grocery shopping, and it was perfectly nasty.  I threw the remainder of it out with some relief.

Times Freakin Square, Man!

Everything else so far has been so much fun, exhilarating and a total sensory overload.  I’m so glad I am staying out of the madness of the city.  It is great around here too, although I’m having to get used to being the minority!  I went to a local pool the other day and was the only white person there, which was a unique experience for me.  I don’t think I liked the feeling of standing out if I’m honest, but I felt that it was a worthwhile thing to have happen, even just for the sake of gaining a tiny bit of perspective. 

My laptop finally shat me past the point of no return with its constant overheating and shutting down while I was in the middle of tasks, so I bought a new one and am currently mired in the painful process of transferring all of my music and video over.  For some reason when I’m dealing with people in shops I am putting on this really full on American accent – I hate it and I’m trying to fight it but it seems to happen before I can think to put the kibosh on it.  I don’t know why this is happening because I lived in England for two years and never lost my Aussie accent, but I’m even thinking in an American accent right now. It’s very odd.  You’ll all just have to beat it out of me when I get home.

So basically in three days here I’ve seen Alec Baldwin, Michelle Obama, an almost naked Ghandi type character wearing Statue of Liberty headgear and I’ve received a marriage proposal in Times Square, so I very much look  forward to the next two months!  Maybe even finishing a book could end up on that amazing list.  You can click here to see my photos so far, although be warned, there are a couple in there from the sex museum!

Til Next We Speak

*LOVE*

N

Keep Portland Weird

Distance Traveled:   55,940 kms (BNE-MEL-SYD-BKK-PKT-BKK-CNX-BKK-PP-SR-BB-PP-HCMC-NC-TH-HA-H-L-MR-AG-SV-TF-AC-LL-ML-CZ-TF-CZ-SV-L-BP-ZG-SP-LJ-VN-PG-SZ-MN-ZR-GV-ML-FC-RM-FG-MN-VC-CT-RM-PDX)

Time Difference: -17 hours (from Brisbane)

Soundtrack: Have a guess.

Currently Inspired by: Have another guess.

Stacks: Read below for the King Of Almost-Stacks.  I was nervous and jittery before our guys performed too and I threw a pen in someone's face.  But that was more of a stack for them.
Words written: 89,502.  Again, see below.

Marina

Portland is strangely wonderful, and wonderfully strange.  “Keep Portland Weird” bumper stickers, Naked bike races, an Adult Hide and Seek League, Pirate Festivals and Yarn Bombing (an illegal but rarely prosecuted form of “graffiti” created by draping colourful knitted fabrics around trees, public benches etc) all contribute to the creation of the deliciously odd sub culture that exists beneath the city’s idyllic suburban exterior.  All the teeth-achingly sweet people I encountered while staying there began to take on a suspicious sheen of weirdness.  I began to stare at everyone through narrowed slits, convinced they were about to start miaowing at me, or covering me in glitter and telling me I could fly now.  On the trams, a notorious hang out for crazies in even the most sedate city, I encountered a man who attempted to gift me with a poster he had won at a B Movie Bingo Night, a older gentleman in a suit who farted loudly and then collapsed into a fit of incontrollable giggles and of course a whole bunch of mad barbershoppers who insisted on singing at everyone who got on - oh, wait.  That was me.  Speaking of which...

New champs - Ringmasters

BARBERSHOP!  Ahhh, my heart is so full.  I have been to conventions before, but this was my first international contest and it was truly extraordinary.  To begin with, being in a room with thousands of talented male singers is no hardship on the old eyes.  I had to remind myself on a few occasions that I was there for the SINGING.  One would think that in a room like that they would only sell half the seats in order to fit the egos in as well, but there were surprisingly few jerks around.  A handful of the younger guys strutted around the place like they were Mr Barbershop, obviously self important and painfully aware of any attention they were getting.  The real Mr Barbershops however - truly talented champs and veterans of the craft - were to the last humble, approachable and genuinely lovely people.  The ones that I met anyway, and that was quite a few.  Let it not be said that I wasted the opportunity to meet some of my heroes!  It was such a relief to discover that they were nice guys to boot.

One perfect example of this is the email I sent to a man by the name of Michael Slamka, lead of my favourite active quartet Crossroads and owner of one of the most exquisite voices I have ever heard.  Click here to hear a ballad by Crossroads that will change your life.  It was just a little “thank you for the music” email, saying how wonderful it was to meet him and how much it meant to me to hear my favourite song Lucky Old Sun live, and also I asked if they were ever going to make their albums available on iTunes as I went to buy it in the marketplace and it had already closed down by the time I got there.  I had a response within ten minutes saying that it was also lovely to meet me, and could I please give him my address so he could send me a CD.  Exhausted and emotional, I burst into tears for about the tenth time that week after reading that email.  What a diamond!

Alliance (photo by Shawn York)

One of the best things about being present in person was that I was able to give some support to my friends from Perth, our national champion quartet Alliance who were there to represent us.  Not only was it wonderful to see and hang out with them again but they really did our country proud on that stage.  It can be difficult for non-Americans to master the art of barbershop, because it is such an American tradition, and the best coaches and resources are all in the US.  However, our guys acquitted themselves beautifully, and one of the best “I’ll remember that forever” moments I had was just sitting around with them on their last night, as we chatted and every now again they broke into a song in four part harmony, softly and beautifully.  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get a little tear in my eye then as well.  It’s been an emotional rollercoaster, and I’m quite wrung out.  You can see pics from the contest by clicking here.

It was with no small amount of cynicism that I listened to my hosts (TNPITW) talk about how good the pizzas were at this little place near their house.  “I’ve just spent nearly six weeks in Italy”, I scoffed silently.  “I don’t think I should bother trying pizza anywhere else.”  My pizza arrived and I sniffed at it rather dubiously, convinced that it would somehow manage to be both bland and overstated like most non-Italian pizzas now seem to me.  Well.  It wasn’t quite as good as the famous pizzas we had in Naples, but it was easily equivalent to every other pizza I had in Italy, which was a delicious surprise.  I am now looking forward to trying New York pizza as well!  Also divine was a selection of seafood dishes we grabbed from a bar menu yesterday.  When I commented on the quality of the food I had tried in the city I was advised that Portland is a food town, a wine town and most definitely a beer town, with many of its own breweries.  I can’t speak to the wine or the beer (unless you count root beer, which is delicious in its own non-alcoholicy way) but I can definitely attest to the food! 

In a town where you can actually take a class to become a “Master of Recycling” (seriously), the streets are unsurprisingly clean and free of litter.  Even the larger than usual numbers of homeless people around seem tidier and better fed than those in other cities.  A big undeveloped belt of forest, 20 miles long and 8 miles wide, actually begins within the city limits and contains several delightful walking trails, one of which we tried.  On the way to the entrance of this national preserve is a huge and stunning rose garden full of drowsy blooms in every colour and size, velvety petals filling the air with that languid sweetness that only roses in large numbers can generate.  It has a dreamy quality to it, and my memory of strolling through the heavy blooms in the warm sunshine has taken on a fuzzy, slow motion quality.  The most endearing thing about Portland is the generous social and environmental consciousness of its citizens, may it never fade!  It’s what keeps the place “weird”, but also what keeps it beautiful and still more in touch with nature than most urban spaces I have visited. 

Chris on the bike

I was very excited to take a motorbike ride through the city and up into the hills yesterday to see more of the lush forest, and indeed it was an interesting and exhilarating experience, until we got back down into downtown on the way home and the jacket I had taken off in the sunshine slipped down, got caught and locked up the back wheel, stopping us dead.  In just two seconds of carelessness I managed to nearly kill my host and I, stop a tram and all the traffic behind it in downtown Portland while we cut it out of the wheel, and destroy a 20 year old leather jacket that belonged to my hostess.  Not bad for a days’ work.  All I can say is we are both fortunate (and both still alive, in all probability) because it happened while we going slowly downtown and not flying along the freeway or taking those curves up on the mountain.  Unfortunately a day that would in all other respects have been considered a highlight was marred by this experience, and will be forever in my memory.  How fragile life is!  I have always had these annoying mixed feelings with regard to bikes: I really really love going on the back of them but I think they are stupid and dangerous and I never want my friends to own one.  The purest form of ambivalence. (Or hypocrisy).

I have photos of the food, of the views, the forest and Rose Garden.  However these are on my new phone and it is not a smart phone, literally or in any sense really, and I can't get them off.  My camera went for a swim in a water bottle that spilled in my handbag so I went for a day without one before I could go shopping.  Until I figure it out, you can see the very very few photos I do have of Portland here.

This is it now.  Crunch time. The last leg of my tour has arrived, and I am heading to New York today to become a total cliché and try my luck.  Obviously with the last several weeks having mum and Laura over, and then spending entire days and nights until the wee hours of barbershop, I have been unable to complete the first draft of my novel.  However I am close, very close.  I estimate about 5,000 words kind of close, and this I am aiming to have completed by Saturday of this week, ready to send out for feedback on Sunday.  Wish me luck! By the way I am typing this up in a cafe, and I asked my server “what do you think the weirdest thing about Portland is?” and he said “How environmentally conscious everyone is.  You can’t even chop down a tree in your yard without having activists all over it, and there are people in the airport who are employed just to go through your trash to make sure it is recycled correctly”.  So there.  Straight from the horse’s mouth!

Til Next We Speak

*LOVE*

N