If I Ever Feel Better

Somehow, an entire week has gone by in New York and I’m not entirely sure what I’ve done with it.

I guess I’ve done the usual thing of strolling around different neighbourhoods and watching people.  I’ve also done some touristy things - the Staten Island ferry to see the Statue of Liberty, watching people ice-skate in Central Park, Coney Island.

Today’s highlight was visiting the John Lennon memorial at Strawberry Fields where a Japanese guy pulled out his guitar and started to play Lennon songs.  “Yoko oughtta come on over here and shut him up,” said one old guy near us.  But I thought he was cute, especially since he didn’t know many songs and sang pretty badly.  When he started to play “Imagine” for the second time, it was our cue to leave.

For some strange reason, my dreams this week have all involved a large parking garage that is connected to my old place of work.  I have no idea what this means.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Today, I’m celebrating it Jewish style with Tova - Chinese takeaway and DVDs.  But it seems like a good moment to reflect on the Holidays.

Over here, there’s a lot of ethnic and religious diversity - even more than in Sydney, it seems.  So everyone’s very conscious of saying “Happy Holidays” or something non-specific, out of respect.  I was talking to an American friend the other day and she was espousing the Seven Values of Kwanzaa (the African-American holiday) - things like unity, purpose and faith.  “I could get behind that more than a celebration based on overconsumption,” she said.

It got me thinking and I realised that there was this guy born a long time ago that had a few things to say about economics and social cohesion and faith.  And I had this idea that maybe we should ditch this whole Coca-Cola Christmas thing and celebrate his birth instead.

Finally arrived in the Big Apple last night and was immediately thrust into a whirlwind night out that involved dancing to 80s music in one of those bars where the men dance with each other.

Previous stop was Philly where I stayed with the lovely Michelle and Lauren - who are now pressuring me to move there permanently.  As if I didn’t have enough trouble deciding where to live in Australia!

I mostly took myself around town because Michelle worked during the day.  I saw an old bell, the steps that Rocky runs up, some great artworks (at the end of those steps) and some cool shops.  But I was also taken by Lauren for the famous Philly Cheesesteak - a kind of super-greasy meat roll - and then to the Mutter Museum, home of all sorts of medical oddities.  I regretted the lunch something fierce when I saw the 45 cm ovarian cyst and the baby without a skull.

My, my - what demanding little readers you all are.

Chicago?  It was big.  And kind of tough.  I guess it was more Sydney to Seattle’s Melbourne.  If Sydney was all snowy and so on.

I went to the Thrill Jockey 15th birthday concert out at Logan Square.  And honestly?  Unknown Chicago bands sound a lot like unknown Australian bands.  And our hipsters look and act exactly the same.  I’m not sure that I expected that.

Wicker Park was a cool neighbourhood, although probably too self-conscious and upmarket for my taste.  Still, the cute girl in the thrift store gave me free hot chocolate and we talked about Roskilde and travel and how much it sucks growing up in Northern Michigan.

Since then, I’ve mostly just driven through snow.  And more snow.  And listening to the amazing mix CDs Heartichoke’s husband made for me when my ipod died.  Seriously, what’s not to love about a CD that includes Prince, Billy Idol, Junior Senior and Bran Van 3000?

The snow did get a little old when I got stuck in Du Bois, PA.  Luckily it was outside a Holiday Inn and a couple of guys in a pickup truck stopped to give me a push.

I’m kind of a novice at this whole Winter Roadtrip thing.

Only a fool would go on a road trip through Michigan in December, but I’m nothing if not a fool.

My parents taught me that the best way to learn to swim is being thrown in the deep end and the best way to learn to cycle is to be pushed down a hill.  So naturally I would assume that the way to learn to drive on the opposite side of the road is to do it in a snowstorm.

It all started off ok.  Driving out of Chicago went smoothly and I remembered which lane to turn into.  But in Michigan, things got hairy, with a lot of icy old snow to make your car skid on.  I held to my lane pretty well, but a car in the left lane didn’t.  It spun out spectacularly, across my lane, into the inches-deep snow, churning up a flurry of white powder.  I managed to brake in time and they landed softly in the snow.  Lucky.

Then there was a minor snowstorm north of Benton Harbor (home of the Calvary’s Light Full Gospel Deliverance Church and the inspiration for a Fiery Furnaces song).  I wasn’t sure how that would pan out, but everyone slowed right down and ploughed on through.

More driving to do - I need to be in Philly by Tuesday night.

I’m pleasantly surprised at how grammatical and correctly-spelled last night’s post was, since it was written at the end of a Capitol Hill bar crawl.

First stop was a restaurant called Machiavelli’s which had a front bar playing Ryan Adams.  Second was Heartichoke’s recommendation, Linda’s, which was just like my favourite bar in Portland but with an even better jukebox.  There’s something about being able to spin Fujiya & Miyagi and Fleetwood Mac in the one evening that appeals to me.

After several local brews and a stellar burger, we hit to road in search of something new and exciting.  But it was cold, so we went into the first bar we saw.  It was a dive bar - and according to Raymond the Bartender, the New York Times had rated it the third diviest bar in America.  The clientele were all tattooed and punk as all hell.  But amazingly friendly.  And the bartender was so excited that visitors from the land of Nick Cave and Tex Perkins and Ed Kuepper were in his bar.

This is why Seattle is cool.

So Danelle reckons that my travel blogging sucks, although “the three whole lines you’ve written have really kept me up to date”.  Screw her sarcasm.

Seattle has been amazing.  I wish there was a better word in the English language for what I’m feeling, but I checked my thesaurus and there isn’t.

It feels like home.  Maybe it’s the Melbourne-esque weather.  Maybe it’s the indie rock poseurs that populate both here and home.  And maybe it’s the friends who just made that transition from “blogger friend” to the kind of people I want to keep in touch with my whole life and make our grandkids meet or something.

I have one more day here before I head over to the frigid East Coast.  And it’s not nearly enough.

Here I am, now in the sunny (limited time only) suburbs of Seattle at the home of the lovely Jen - of The Pile I’m Standing In fame.  After reading her blog for some time, it’s quite strange to be in her house, talking to her husband and children.  But those are the kind of strange connections you seem to make these days!

First stop, Portland, Oregon.  Cold, wet and at least 98% hipsters.

The beer is good (lots of microbreweries) and the food is good (lots of local produce) and the people are delighted to meet Australians.  They don’t seem to get a whole lot of tourists round here.

Which makes sense - mostly there aren’t traditional tourist things to do.  Like the fact that there’s a cable car that takes in an amazing view, but it’s mostly to service a gigantic hospital.  Like the fact that I’ve mostly just hung out in cafes and pubs and cool little shops.

But it’s my kind of place.