Full Moon, Hot Sun

I have a small confession to make. I never did travel around Europe. I was squatting in a basement in Peckham, underneath a Reggae shop. I survived by luring pigeons towards me with an old packet of chips and eating them raw. My only excursions were to the internet cafe where I made up emails based on facts gleaned from a pile of old reader’s digests. I didn’t want to lie to you but you’re not allowed to sit at the grown up’s table in my house unless you’ve been around Europe at least once and I’m sick of eating Christmas dinner off the floor with the cats.

Now the real travelling begins. I’m in New York, New York, the town so nice they named it after an apple. When I mentioned my plans to come to New York in August a couple of pragmatists put on a whiny voice and said “ooohhh … it’s going to be hot.” The annoying bastards were right, as well. It’s constant sweat weather, the kind of heat that forces you to walk just to get a breeze going. I like being wet all the time so it’s not a problem for me. The only annoying aspect is waking up in a wading pool of sweat every morning but I usually just grab my rubber ducky and spend an idyllic 30 minutes waking up.

The first impressions you get of New York are big and square. The buildings, cemeteries, parks, teeth, road system, cars – they all conform to the simple principles of bigger is better and contours are bad. America has taken the ‘glory to the empire’ approach of many older civilizations and topped the lot of them in the grandeur stakes. Surprisingly, it’s a really good city to wander around in. I’m talking mainly about Manhattan here as only a fool honky would wander around the outer boroughs.

Contrary to expectations the natives are being very polite. They are loud and slightly arrogant but not rude and a lot happier than I expected. I read an article in the local paper by a man having trouble controlling his anger, especially when people dropped weights at the gym and honked when the light had only just gone green. He said that he had to tell himself that they weren’t deliberately trying to make him angry but were just being inconsiderate. I think this illustrates a couple of personality traits of Americans. They think that everything that happens revolves around them and don’t give a toss about anyone else. They do seem a lot calmer on home soil but it might just be a thin veneer of politeness just waiting to corrode.

There’s not much point going on about the sights of the city as everyone knows what they are and the fact that I’ve had a look at them doesn’t really change that. Most of my time has been spent looking up in awe, or wandering around a mammoth store, home to a global brand. The most famous landmark at the moment is an absence, as people crowd around a massive hole in the ground and sing sappy songs about peace and freedom. It looks like another construction zone now but when you look at the way the surrounding roads have been chewed up it’s a reminder of the scale of disaster that took place.

I don’t know where the next destination is. I have a travelling partner this time, my good friend Tim, but he’s just as bad at planning as I am. It’s throw-the-dart at the map time.

Dave out.

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