My 2018

2018's been an interesting year. After ~24 years (minus backpacking) in the embedded space I switched into cloud operations.

I was dissatisfied with my current employer's backward attitude towards development and innovation (a verbal warning for creating a pull request was the last straw) so I spent several months looking for a new job. I found that the embedded space in Auckland seems to be shrinking and at my level of seniority and expertise there aren't that many jobs out there. What worries me most is that I can find another job now, but what about 5 or 10 years time? I really don’t want to end up as an unemployed developer before retirement age (and not really then).

I had a company business trip to Berlin in June to meet new colleagues (we've been buying companies) and discuss infrastructure. While I was there I got talking to a new colleague over a burger and we ended up complaining about our current roles. I admitted to him I was looking for a new job, so a few months later he emailed me and asked if I'd be interested in transferring to a new division he was setting up dedicated to cloud development and operations. Obviously I don't have any experience in this area but they wanted to setup the cloud operations team from people already in the company who have related experience and know the company structure. It seemed like a great opportunity; to have the time to learn new technology whilst keeping my current salary and accumulated holiday, to move away from the silly management of R&D into a new division that was all about devops (the mindset and the tech) and to move upstairs in the company (literally). I went from this:

to this:

So I'm about 3 months in now and I've learned a lot but there's still a lot to go. I think the key difference from my old role is that I used approximately the same set of tools (C++, compiler/linker, IDE, source control) for most of my career, whereas in the new role the sheer scope of technologies I'm trying to get to grips with (AWS, Azure, Docker, Terraform, Packer, Python, Go, C#, Vault, Sentinel, Elasticsearch, Prometheus, Grafana and that's just what I can remember right now) is blowing my mind.

Goals for 2019:

• Do more meetup talks. I've already down for NZISIG on Tuesday 26th February talking about WPA3 and possibly Bluetooth.
• Do some CFPs. I've really enjoyed the conferences I've spoken at, I'd like to do some more.
• Do more open source. I'm halfway through converting the examples for Terraform: Up and Running to Terraform 0.11.
• Follow up ideas outside of work. I have a couple of ideas (one Infosec, one medical) I'd like to pursue.
• Learn to make Ceviche. I visited our factory in Ensenada, Mexico a few years ago and was introduced to Ceviche at a cart in the market. It turned out this is one of the best Ceviche places in the world so lucky start!
• Do more blog posts. This is my first since 2007, so a bit crap.

Wow! It's been a while since I blogged here, in fact I'd actually forgotten what site I was using to host it. Luckily it hasn't been deleted and I've been able to reclaim it even though I don't have access to the email address it was created under. Thank you Mr Google.

Monday 22nd July: I had arranged for the hotel to order me a taxi at 06:00, so I got up at 05:00 to give me time for a shower and the all-important swearing and jumping up and down on the rucksack to get it to close. I was actually flying from Newark so I had left plenty of time to get there, but traffic was light so I was there by 06:30. When I checked in the airline representative asked me if I wanted to go on the 07:00 flight rather than wait for the 08:00 as I was there so early. It meant spending an extra hour in the airport at Chicago, but since I had nothing else to do I thought I might as well get going. I was gratified to learn that, once again, I had been selected (randomly) for a baggage check. I am beginning to wonder how random this selection is.

Sunday 21st July, part II: When I got back to the hotel in the evening there was a message from Kit saying she was going to be out for the evening but suggesting we meet up for breakfast on Monday morning. She had obviously forgotten that I was due to fly to Houston and was leaving for the airport at 06:00. She eventually called me when she got in at about 23:00 and asked me about breakfast, and when I told her I was leaving she said “But you only just got here!”. We agreed that I should walk down to her apartment so I could return the books on New York she had leant me and we could go for a drink. After trying an Irish pub but deciding it was too noisy we went to a French bistro style place, where I was able to get a cheeseburger (very French) and we both had a drink. We said our goodbyes and then I returned to the hotel to complete my packing.

So what did I think of New York? Well, to be completely honest I was a little disappointed. Everything I had seen and read about the place had led me to believe that it was somehow the ultimate city. Now I don’t pretend to have seen the whole thing – I didn’t go anywhere near Queens, the Bronx or Long Island – but I didn’t really see anything that you couldn’t see in any other major city. My main disappointment had to be the line “New York – the city that never sleeps”. I was rather surprised to learn that most bars and clubs shut at 04:00, not that different from any other city. When I mentioned this to Kit she said, “Ah, but you have to know where to go after then”. How is this different from any other city? There are plenty of places in London where you can go to party all night, but most people who visit London don’t know where they are. You can drink all night in Regensburg if you are prepared to go to the Max Bar and Würstl Tony’s.
Having said this, New York is an amazing place. It’s the largest city I’ve ever been in, and it does have an amazing variety of people living there. It’s got some incredible architecture and Central Park is a wonderful place. Most of the people I met were very friendly and helpful (although someone did say this is only since September 11th and it would wear off soon – and they call me a cynic). I would certainly like to visit it again, but I’m not sure if I would ever want to live there. I am reminded of a line from the film “Keeping The Faith” – Edward Norton says to Jenna Elfman, “People who live in other cities are somehow kidding themselves”. Why?

Sunday 21st July: I had read that the Shakespeare In The Park performance this year was going to be “Twelfth Night”. This has always been one of my favourite Shakespeare comedies, especially since I studied it for my GCSE English and then performed in it. For those of you who don’t know – my claim to fame is that I played Sebastian and my identical twin Viola was played by Tara Palmer-Tomkinson. Yes, none of us could understand it either. I also read that Sir Toby Belch was to be played by Oliver Platt who is an actor I would love to see live on stage.
Unfortunately I underestimated the popularity of this event. The tickets are distributed free at 13:00 so I got there by 11:00 only to find the queue stretched for several miles (well, that’s what it seemed). I asked at the ticket office and they said it was rare to get a ticket if you got there after 10:00-ish, although it did vary. You have been warned.
I spent the rest of the day wandering around Central Park. I had been here before, but not gone to the north end of the park which is wilder and therefore less visited. It was a beautiful day, although the heat and humidity meant I had to stop at regular intervals to buy cold drinks. I spent an hour watching a baseball match, which is a game I know almost nothing about. It’s actually quite fun to watch when you’re close enough to hear what the players are saying – I was sat directly behind where the players sit when they’re not batting (don’t know what it’s called).
If you get the chance to visit New York, try and spend a day in Central Park – it really is worth it. It’s not that big compared to, say, the New Forest, but there is so much hidden away you can spend ages just wandering around. I was startled to see how many men felt it necessary to wander around in the bushes, especially in the Ramble, until I realised they are all gay and looking for a bit of stuff. You have been warned (again, and in a slightly different context from last time).

Saturday 20th July: I had bought a ticket to the 14:00 showing of “Into The Woods” at the Broadhurst Theatre (235 West 44th Street), so I got there in good time. There was a large queue down the street and it was very hot, so it was a relief to get inside. My seat was fairly near the stage on the right hand side which meant I got a view of almost the entire stage, although as usual it had almost no leg room.
Some of you will know that “Into The Woods” was the first play I did with RUPs in Regensburg, although we did it as a play rather than a musical (which I’m sure came as a relief to the audience). I had never seen the original, so I was interested to see how it was as a musical rather than as a play.
Hearing the libretto sung rather than spoken does make the whole thing sound quite different, although the characters are basically the same. The two exceptions were the Princes, which was the part I played in Regensburg (not both of them). In this version they are played much more as upper-class twits, although I think this perception is partly because their songs make them seem that way more than just the spoken parts.
It was interesting to see how they handled the special effects. Obviously they had a much larger budget and a permanent set, but most of the effects they used weren’t that different from the ones we used. The only major difference was when their witch was transformed they had her rise to the roof while spinning, whereas ours disappeared behind a tree. In some ways I thought they cheated, like when Cinderella talks to the birds they had the narrator holding a mobile on a stick with some small birds attached.
The only member of the cast I actually recognised was Vanessa Williams, who played the witch. She and most of the rest were excellent, but I thought Jack and his mother were rather weak.
I got speaking to the couple next to me during the interval – they were two retired Americans from an area a few hours away from New York somewhere in the country (sorry, I forget where). Apparently they come to New York for two weeks every year and see as many shows as they can – one a day and two on Saturdays. They thought the show was okay, but not as good as some of the others they’d seen.
After the show I walked down to 42nd Street and had a Mexican meal in a large tex-mex restaurant. It was an enormous portion, but oddly tasteless for Mexican food. Still, I would be in Houston next week and the Mexican I had there last time was superb.
I then went across the road to the cinema to see “Eight-legged freaks”, which had just been released. Great fun, but don’t see it if you have a problem with spiders.
After all this excitement I went back to the hotel for an early night.

Friday 19th July, part III: By the time I finished the second pot (no charge) the rain had reduced from a wall of water to a shower, so I decided to take my chances. I walked north along Mott Street, retracing my steps. North of Canal Street there is a dramatic change as you move into Little Italy. This is not nearly as authentic as Chinatown, in fact the guidebook warns you that the best Italian food is to be found elsewhere in the city and this is strictly tourist fare. I carried on up Mott Street and into NoLita. This is an extremely hip area, full of those very small clothing and shoe shops with insanely high prices that women seem to love. I got several disdainful looks from the extremely well groomed staff that were standing under the awnings smoking French cigarettes as they waited for their customers to brave the rain. Since I was at this point soaked to the skin I stopped at a café. It was obviously designed to be as European as possible, with even the toilets labelled in French. I decided to enter into the spirit of the place and ordered an espresso and a glass of St. Emilion, whereupon the atmosphere was shattered by the waitress. When I ordered the wine she appeared confused, so I pointed it out to her on the menu. “Oh, you mean Saint Emily-on.” I took this as a compliment to my French pronunciation.
That evening I got a taxi to Union Square. There was a bar just down the street I thought might be worth trying – the Belmont Lounge (East 15th Street between Park Avenue South and Irving Place). After a few drinks and some abortive attempts at conversation with the locals I decided I wasn’t really enjoying myself. I wandered around for a while, and completely by accident found myself outside the piano bar I had such a memorable evening in before. I wandered in to see if by chance Karl was there, but it seemed rather quiet compared to the last time (although there was still plenty of singing). I finally got a taxi back to the hotel, but realised I hadn’t eaten since that afternoon, so I went round the corner to a café on Ninth Avenue. It seemed very odd to be eating at nearly 05:00. If it had been a weekday I could have gone to see the Fulton fish market, but I never got the chance.

Friday 19th July, part II: Once we had returned to dry land I walked up to Chinatown. This is an extraordinary area, quite unlike the similarly named areas in most large cities. As you walk east down Canal Street is almost seems like you have been transported to China itself – there are no signs in English anywhere (even the ubiquitous “Walk” signs on the traffic lights are replaced with figures – the only place in New York I saw this). There were people everywhere – all over the pavement and spilling onto the street, often blocking the traffic. It was also incredibly dirty, with piles of rubbish all over the place.
I reached the junction of Mott Street and turned south. This is the main area for Chinese restaurants in New York, so after wandering around for a while (and buying a few cheap T-shirts) I picked a clean-looking restaurant down an anonymous side street and wandered in. It was obviously a family run establishment as they were all sitting at the far end having a conversation in several different languages – all the children spoke English (with an American accent) and all the adults Chinese (don’t ask me what type). While I was reading the menu the waiter brought me a pot of green tea and a cup, which was absolutely delicious. I ordered spring rolls and a spicy noodle and pork stew which were both very good, although when the stew arrived it was the kind of portion that would have been shared between two people anywhere in Europe. I was amazed to find all this came to about 7 dollars, so I left a generous tip and walked towards the door. Unfortunately while I had been enjoying my meal the heavens had opened, and outside the door was a veritable wall of water. Seeing my hesitation the waiter offered me a table near the door and brought me another pot of tea to drink while I waited for the rain to stop.

Friday 19th July: I got the metro to Fulton Street and walked down to the South Street Seaport. Pier 17 has been turned into a shopping arcade, but it is also one of the places where boats leave for a tour of the harbour. I bought a ticket (lower harbour cruise, $11) then saw that there was a temporary branch of TKTS in the arcade. The main one in Times Square always has a massive queue but this one was relatively quiet, so I went to see what they had on offer. I already knew there was a revival of “Into the woods” playing at the Broadhurst Theatre, so when I saw they had tickets available for the Saturday matinee I decided to get one ($48.75), leaving me just enough time to catch the boat.
The tour guide was a rather grizzled looking man who had obviously been doing this for years, as his patter was very smooth. Some of the history had been ‘toned down’ a little for the tourists – I noticed two mistakes in the history, but they were not so much errors as removal of un-American events. It was still a good trip, though. As we pulled out from the harbour there was a great view of Brooklyn Bridge behind us, followed by Wall Street to starboard. The guide showed us a painting of Manhattan from the days when it was lined with ships pulling in to port just as we passed a helipad on one of the old docks. The boat continued round the end of Manhattan, towards the Hudson River, giving us a great view of the hole in the sky line where the World Trade Centre used to be. Apparently on September 11th the tour was cut short when the boat docked here to take on people fleeing from the dust and confusion and transport them across the river. You can see there is a lot of new building going on across the river, as companies race to replace the real estate lost in Manhattan. Apparently a lot of the apartments around Ground Zero have been empty for months. People first moved out because of the appalling dust, which was quite toxic because of all the metal, but now don’t want to move back in. Most of them haven’t been paying their rents but the owners haven’t chased them for it.
After turning in the mouth of the Hudson we went past Ellis Island, where all the immigrants were processed, and Liberty Island, where the Statue of Liberty stands. This is where the guide made his two mistakes – the status was not built for New York, but originally created for Alexandria in Egypt, and the money for the base was not spontaneously donated by a willing public but took two years to collect because everyone thought it was a complete waste of time. Just goes to show.

Wednesday 17th July, part II: That evening I thought I’d check out the local music scene. I’d seen a gig in Time Out which sounded interesting – I reproduce the entry here:
Knitting Factory (74 Leonard Street between Broadway and Church, http://www.knittingfactory.com). Oops! The Tour featuring the Locust + Arab on Radar + Lightning Bolt + Orthrelm + Wolf Eyes, 20:30 $12.
New York rock fans have been more open to edgier sounds lately; it's as if each new kick only pushes us to look for something even more freakishly bent (didn't Reefer Madness say it would be like this?). Well, kids, it doesn't get any more ridiculous than this tour - top to bottom, each band does its thing with such hair-curling intensity that we dare you to live through them all. Any one of them could harm: The Locust and its blistering electronic punk, Arab on Radar's spasming noise, Orthrelm's bursts of metal. But our money's on Providence's Lightning Bolt, a remarkably compelling duo of drums and bass. When this duo plays, it pulls attention towards it like a black hole draws light. If you get hurt by music tonight, all we can say is "Oops!".
I include this to show how misleading music journalists can be. When I reached the venue there was only one man on stage, and he spent the next twenty minutes doing an extended guitar solo – basically a guitar wanking session. I’ve seen this before in a band as part of a set, but doing it on stage by yourself seems rather indulgent.
I went to get a drink while the next band were tuning up. After half an hour I began to wonder what the delay was, so I went back in. I realised that the band had actually started playing, it just sounded as though they were still tuning up.
By this point I really couldn’t be bothered to stay for whatever lay in store, so I walked down the street and called Martin from a payphone to wish him a happy 30th birthday and bemoan the state of the music industry in general.
My next stop was back to the Peculier Pub. It wasn’t as crowded as it was last time, but I still didn’t see anyone I recognised from the comic.

Thursday 18th July: Oddly enough I really can’t remember what I did, but I think the important thing to remember is that I was doing it in New York (whatever it was).

Wednesday 17th July: I decided to have brunch at Hooters today, as there is one quite close to the hotel (the only one in Manhattan, I believe). It's one of those places I've heard referred to so many times in American culture without actually knowing what it is. Many years ago I went to one in Amsterdam (it was a business trip and the boss was paying), but I couldn't really see what all the fuss was about so I wanted to see if it was any different in America. It seemed to be exactly the same, although the beer wasn't as good. I had a Philly steak, which was quite good, and then got the subway to Park Place, just round the corner from City Hall Park. I wanted to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge to get the view of Manhattan from the other side. Walking across the bridge was a strange experience - it was very hot, and there is an enormous temptation to keep looking back to see what the view is like. Not exactly in the same class as Lot or Orpheus, but I managed to resist the temptation until I was halfway across. It's definitely worth the wait.
Once you reach the other side you encounter a small problem. The footpath across the bridge runs in the middle, between the two lanes of traffic. You have to keep walking quite a way from the bridge before you are allowed to get off the path and into the streets of Brooklyn itself. Not really knowing where I was going, I turned left and walked a few blocks until I found a MacDonalds where I could quench my thirst (I told you it was hot). I had a look at the Rough Guide and decided the best place to go was Brooklyn Heights.
It’s a beautiful neighbourhood just to walk around. I walked through the park and onto Middagh Street, where the oldest house in the area is at number 24 – built in 1824. It makes you realise how recent areas of New York really are in comparison to Europe. From here I walked down the Esplanade, which gives a wonderful view over the East River to Manhattan. The buildings around the area are fantastic as well, many of them with unusual features on the top.
When you reach the end of the Esplanade you can turn onto Montague Street, which is the area’s main shopping thoroughfare. I spent some time wandering around a second-hand bookshop, where I found a copy of “The Marijuana Growers Guide” and some great black and white postcards (which some of you will have received). I stopped for a coffee and a slice of something chocolately and then got the metro back to the hotel. I said to Kit later that if I was to move to New York this was the area I would like to live in. She was absolutely horrified, and said I definitely wasn’t a true New Yorker as they all want to live in Manhattan. Obviously I was devastated by this news.

Tuesday 16th July, part III: From here I made my way to Wall Street. It's a strange place - not nearly as big as I was expecting. The buildings on either side are so high it's actually quite dark, as most of the sunlight is cut off, and the narrowness of the street makes it seem like being in a ravine.
Fulton Street is where the fish market is, but unfortunately I never managed to get up early enough to see it (05:00). The wharf is very touristy, complete with it's own shopping centre, but it's where some of the tours round the harbour islands leave from. I had an iced coffee at an Internet cafe there and answered a few emails - you know who you are.
I walked up to City Hall Park, intending to catch the #1 metro back to the hotel. I sat in the park opposite the Woolworths building and started typing up my journal for the day. I was sharing the bench with a young black couple whose young child was charging around in front of them making those odd noises that only ever mean anything to the child. We exchanged smiles at his antics and then I went back to my typing. I was interrupted by a loud voice saying "What's that?". I looked up to see a badly dressed middle-aged man pointing at my handheld computer. "It's a computer" I replied. "What?". "A COMPUTER".
The conversation proceeded with him asking questions about the handheld (Who makes it? How much did it cost? What can it do?) and me shouting the answers loud enough for the entire park to hear. At one point he started walking away and I noticed the couple next to me were both desperately trying not to laugh, but then he changed his mind and came back for another couple of questions and they could contain their mirth no longer. He seemed particularly confused by the price, which I quoted in pounds because that's the currency I purchased it with. I think the concept of "not dollars" was a bit hard for him to grasp.
Having finally satisfied his voracious curiosity I got the metro back to the hotel. I'd already decided that evening that I was going to make an effort to do some exercise, so I went down to a hotel gym called Gravity (119 West 56th Street between 6th and 7th Avenues). As I wasn't a guest or a member I had to pay $25 for a day, although I was only going to be there for an hour or so. It's a very nice gym (they even have free fruit at the front desk) but a lot of the equipment was unfamiliar so I didn't complete my usual workout. Even so, I felt I had made the effort as I walked back to my hotel for a much-needed shower.

Tuesday 16th July, part II: The park was full of sunbathers, probably from the college you pass to get to it. I walked through and turned south when I reached the Hudson river. This was the first time I had seen the river, and as I looked south along it I caught my first glimpse of the statue of liberty. Not the way the immigrants would have seen it, but I still felt it was a noteworthy moment.
Following the park south, you can walk all the way down to Battery Park City along the Hudson River. I then turned up to the beginning of Broadway, which runs all the way through the city. There are some amazing buildings here, including the US Customs House. It has four statues at the front of the building representing the four continents - not quite sure what happened to the other three. Another interesting one is the old Cunard Building at number 25. It is now a post office, but you can go in and look at the murals on the ceiling. Just outside is a statue of a charging bull - nothing to do with the stock market, but a sculpture the artist was trying to get rid of. He stuck it in the middle of Broad Street and the city removed it the next day, but the public outcry forced them to put it back. It's rather difficult to take a photo of it without a bunch of Japanese tourists standing in front of it (or on it).
Walking further up Broadway and you start seeing the memorials to September 11th laid out in various places on the street. There's really not much to see at Ground Zero itself - the whole area is surrounded by a high fence while the clearup continues inside. The fence has been holed in several places so you can look through, but you can only see some building equipment and a couple of workmen. What is impossible to avoid seeing are the hundreds of flowers, posters and cards placed nearby and around the local church.

Tuesday 16th July: Having been in New York for a week and a half, I found it was high time I got some laundry done. There was an establishment conveniently located round the corner from the hotel, so I took a few bags in and arranged to collect them tomorrow. My domestic chores completed, I hopped on the subway and made my way to Franklin Street. This is the start of the area called TriBeCa. At this point I was beginning to feel a bit peckish, so I was delighted to find a classic diner just down the street. It was one of the old-style steel tube designs that you always see in films but never seem to actually exist. I had some coffee and a pizza burger (a burger with tomato sauce and mozzarella, as far as I could tell), which was all good.
Just round the corner, my Rough Guide informed me, was the firehouse used in the film Ghostbusters. They'd managed to get the location wrong on the map, but it was fairly obvious (there aren't that many firehouses). It didn't really look the way I remember the one in the film, but then it's been a while since I saw it so maybe I am misremembering.
I walked south through TriBeCa then turned west to the TriBeCa Bridge, which was designed by the Stuyvesant High School Of Science and reaches across to it. Crossing over, before you actually see the river you reach Roosevelt Park, which has a delightful collection of little sculptures. I'm not sure who does them, but I have similar ones in other places in New York so they must be quite well known. There is one of a mouse being stalked by a bird which is being stalked by a cat, in turn being watched by a dog tied to a drinking fountain.

Monday 15th July, part II: I suppose if you were to spend a while asking people in the street (à la Family Fortunes) who the most famous resident of Manhattan is, you would almost certainly find Woody Allen somewhere near the top. So I shouldn't really have been surprised to find him filming a scene for his latest movie at the Alice In Wonderland monument. Of course, I wasn't able to take a photo because I had just finished my film, but I assure you he was there. The assistant who stopped us walking across while they finished the scene said the film did not yet have a title, but when it's finally released I'll be able to bore you all rigid by identifying the scene that was filmed a few feet away from me. You have been warned.
I attempted to find somewhere I could buy another camera film, but all the vendors in Central Park sell completely useless rubbish like cold drinks and hotdogs. When are they going to realise where their key market is? I walked round to Belvedere Castle in disgust and glared at the Delacorte Theatre before stomping my way through the Ramble. However, it's such a beautiful area I was unable to maintain my fug. On the way back to the hotel I went to the photo shop I have been using to collect my photos (and purchase a new film, of course) only to find the entire area had been roped off by the police. I asked the officer what the problem was and he pointed to a pile of stonework on the pavement. Apparently part of the building, which was about four storeys high, had eroded to the point where it had collapsed into the street. Luckily nobody had been hurt, and they were going to start putting scaffolding up that evening so the shops should be open again tomorrow morning. It could only happen in New York (not quite true, but it's the only place I've seen it happen).

Monday 15th July: When I was investigating bars on 1st and 2nd Avenues on Saturday night I walked past the start of the Queensboro Bridge. The bridge is unusual because it also has a cable car to Roosevelt Island, which the bridge itself just passes over. I had recognised the cable car from the one in Spider-man (if you've seen the film you'll know the one I mean) so I walked over to have a ride. It's not on the Metro card like the subway and buses, but a single ticket is only $1.50 and it runs every quarter of an hour. The trip itself is fairly short, but there's an impressive view of the bridge and the river, and you can look back to get a view of Manhattan.
Roosevelt Island is surprisingly quiet. I walked south for a bit and found a hospital. This reminded me that my friend Val had been in for an operation over the weekend, so I found a payphone in the hospital and called her. She was still recovering from the operation and being doped up to the eyeballs (no change there, then) but sounded in good spirits.
I didn't really fancy walking all round the island, since nothing in my Rough Guide sounded worth seeing (for the trivia/film buffs out there, it sounds as though the building Spider-man lands in when he's knocked off the bridge by the Green Goblin is actually New York's first biological weapons facility). I got the cable car back and walked around Park Avenue and the Upper East Side for a while. This is the area where some of the really expensive stores like Tiffany's are located. Of course, I wasn't interested in any of those, so I went to a cafe for lunch. This was no ordinary cafe, so I ended up having a black truffle and porcini mushroom pizza and some very good coffee.
After lunch I wandered west until I came to Central Park. I had walked past it several times in the last few days but this was the first time I had entered the grounds. It really is an amazing place - not just the fact that such a large area in the middle of a city is given over to a park, but also the landscaping that went into it. I walked up the Mall, an area which is well known for the street performers that work there, continued over the road and came to the boating lake. Turning right, I used the last shot on my camera on a picturesque piece of stonework on one of the tunnels running under the road. This turned out to be particularly ironic, considering what happened next.

Sunday 14th July: I spent the day doing nothing in particular. Just walking around New York can be an experience. They have an unusual attitude to crossing the road, which is especially refreshing when you have just spent three years living in Germany. In New every junction (at least in Manhattan) has traffic lights. There are also signs telling pedestrians when to walk. These are almost universally ignored by everyone on the pavement(sorry, sidewalk). This is in complete contrast to Germany, where people will obey the pedestrian signals even at 03:00 when there isn't a car for five miles (sorry, eight kilometres) in any direction.
Kit called me and we arranged to meet for supper, so I walked over to her apartment and she took me to a place a few blocks away called 45 & X (because it's on the corner of 45th Street and 10th Avenue). It's not very well known because it's in Hell's Kitchen, which is an area most theatre goers tend to avoid. My spicy chicken sausage risotto was a little too rich (too much cream) for my taste, but the chocolate napoleon for dessert was excellent.
Kit went home to bed (she has to work in the morning, after all) but since it was only just after 23:00 I went over to the big cinema on 42nd Street. They had a late showing of Spider-man so I went to see it again - I'd seen it once in Germany but it's interesting to watch once you've been around New York. I recognised quite a few of the scenes as places I've already seen.
After the film I walked down 42nd Street to Bryan Park. The park itself was shut, but I sat on the steps outside and was still able to access the wireless network provided free inside. I didn't stay for very long, because sitting outside a park in New York in the early hours of the morning holding a relatively expensive piece of electronic equipment probably isn't good for your long term health prospects.

Saturday 13th July: I really should remember not to drink gin and tonic in large quantities. I didn't achieve anything at all today apart from sitting around and drinking liquids. By evening I was feeling a bit more lively, so I decided to follow up a tip I got from a native. Kate, who I met in the piano bar last night, had suggested there were quite a few bars from 40th to 50th Streets between 1st and 2nd Avenue that were good places to meet people. My Rough Guide listed a few as well, so I thought I'd try it out. I walked over to 3rd Avenue to find a famous bar called P.J.Clarke's between 55th and 56th Streets. Unfortunately it was shut for renovations. I also tried British Open, an anglophile pub dedicated to tennis, but that had closed down. I decided the Rough Guide wasn't helping much and switched to the tried and tested "walk around and look in the window" method of bar location, but I discovered curious thing. In New York on Saturday evening every single pub and bar I looked at was nearly empty. There just didn't seem to be anyone around. I walked a long way south, alternating between 1st and 2nd Avenue. At one point I found myself walking past the United Nations building, which I found a little sterile.
I ended up in the Fàilte Irish Whiskey Bar (2nd Avenue between 29th and 30th Street) trying the Guinness, which was nice. It too was almost empty, so I ended up chatting to the barmaid, Jennifer. She was very interested in my trip, and wanted to know all the different places I'd been in Europe. Suddenly, just after eleven, for no apparent reason the bar suddenly filled up. I have no idea where all these people were hiding, but (as if by magic) they suddenly appeared.
Jennifer was now being rushed off her feet serving drinks, so I thought I'd indulge in a little fan trip. For a while now I have been reading an internet comic called Goats. Most of the action (if you can call it that) takes place in a bar in New York. The bar and some of the characters are real, so I grabbed a cab and asked him to take me to Bleeker Street.
I wasn't totally sure where the Peculiar Pub was (I'd managed to lose the bit of paper I'd written the address on) so I ended up walking the length of the street. It's obviously a student area, just south of New York University, so every shop is a bar, restaurant or take-away. I eventually found the Peculiar Pub near the corner of Thompson Street. It's not particularly well decorated (wood features heavily in the design) but it does posess a remarkable collection of beers from around the world. This probably explains why it was so crowded. I had a quick look around, but I couldn't see anyone I recognised from the comic, mainly because it was so crowded. I ended up going to an Irish bar a few doors down and having another Guinness or two.
When I finally got a taxi home I was amazed to find it was the same taxi driver who'd driven me to Bleeker Street a few hours earlier. I have no idea how many taxi drivers there are in New York, but I'd imagine it's a fairly large coincidence.

Friday 12th July: I spent a while on Friday sitting in Bryant Park getting my new wireless network card to work. After a few false starts it came online, and I was able to check my email and answer a few queries. For some reason Blogger is refusing to update my webpage so I will have to play around with it for a while.
That evening I decided to hit the town. I got a taxi down to Washington Square, and after wandering around for a while I found myself outside the Cubbyhole again. Why is it I'm drawn to lesbian bars? I managed to get a seat the bar and ordered a Guinness. Shortly after my first sip someone asked me if the seat next to me was taken. He ordered a Greyhound, I asked him what that was (vodka and cranberry juice, apparently) and we got talking. His name was Karl and he was originally from Norway. He had been in New York for twelve years, originally as a model, although he had been training as a lawyer and was now a paralegal (the stage before taking the bar). He had the sort of looks that go with being a male model - striking rather than attractive, 6'4", blonde, slim rather than muscular. He was also very obviously gay. Apparently he comes in the Cubbyhole to avoid being hit on by men. He asked me if I was gay, and upon my negative reply asked me what I was doing there. I told him I had discovered it last week and it seemed a nice place for a drink. He asked me if I realised that most of the women there were lesbians and I pointed out it was pretty obvious.
Having satisfied his curiosity, Karl seemed to decide to adopt me. He announced that, since I didn't have any other plans for the evening, he was going to take me out and show me the town. We decided to stay for a few more drinks, and got talking to a married couple called Peter and Jean. I couldn't help thinking Peter was living in denial, because while he was talking to me his wife was flirting with most of the women in the pub. Still, they seemed happy so who am I to judge? I also talked to a few of Karl's lesbian friends. When one of them found out I was straight she asked me if I was there hoping to see some "hot lesbian action". I laughed and said how sad would I have to be to come here for that, and she said it was actually quite common to get men in the bar looking for that kind of thing.
At some point I offered to buy Karl a drink and he suggested we move on, so we said our goodbyes and walked to a nearby club called Nells. Now I'm not going to say that we were the only white people in Nells, but we were definitely in the minority. It didn't help that I was the only man with long hair and I was accompanying a tall, camp man, but Karl knew the doormen so we got in without too much trouble (althought they confiscated my bottle of water - I assume they didn't want anyone drinking anything that wasn't from the bar, or maybe they just sold the water on to someone else). Inside, the club was decorated in a rather old-fashioned style, although it was rather dilapidated so maybe it was original. There was a sort of latin jazz band playing in the bar. The singer was very short and had very thick glasses which spoilt the effect somewhat, but they sounded good.
It was at this point that began to suspect that Karl's motives for letting him accompany me weren't entirely altruistic. Although he paid for some of the drinks he made me go to the bar to buy them, and he was very enthusiastic about introducing me to all his friends then making sure I sat next to him. When he dragged me downstairs to the disco I began to suspect that he was in fact using me as a novelty toyboy to show off with. I wasn't particularly bothered, mainly because I was already fairly drunk on Guinness and had now switched to gin and tonics. We danced for a while downstairs (we had our own little area of the dancefloor - whether this was because we were white, appeared to be gay or were just dancing really badly I don't know), then Karl announced we were leaving. We jumped in a cab and Karl shouted something at the driver, then he remembered it was Friday and changed his mind. We arrived at the corner of Grove Street and 4th and went into what Karl called "the piano bar". Basically it was a bar with a piano in the corner of the room surrounded by stools. There was a whole variety of people sitting and standing around the piano, which was being played very well by a man who was the spitting image of Andy McGrath (even down to the shorts) singing what I assumed were show tunes. Karl grabbed a stool by the piano and sent me to the bar (again), and when I came back he was in full voice. Apparently he had been a member of the New York Amateur Opera Society for ten years. I attempted to sing along, even though I didn't really know any of the words. After a while Karl announced he was going home because he was drunk, so I said goodbye and he staggered out to order a taxi.
By now I had met several other people in the bar, including a large black guy called Jay. We sang along to a few songs from Grease then they started singing something I didn't recognise so I stopped. Jay asked me why I wasn't singing.
"I don't know the words."
"Why not?"
"Well, I'm English."
"So what? This is Oklahoma! You're gay, aren't you?"
I had to admit that I was not. He seemed surprised, and asked me what I was doing in a gay bar (deja vu?). I pointed out that I had thought it was a bar for people who enjoyed singing, and he seemed happy with this.
I had also been talking to two women at the bar, Kate and Liz. Liz was slightly older than my mother, but we had been having an interesting conversation about how most American men were too insecure to come in a gay bar. However, I began to suspect her motives when she claimed a man at the other side of the bar was eyeing me up and offered to kiss me to get rid of him. While I was unwilling to doubt her generous nature I decided that it was time for me to go home, so I walked out and hailed a cab.

Thursday 11th July: Having not had time on Wednesday, I went over to the electronics store on 45th Street to collect my wireless network card. Because my handheld PC does not have a CD drive I need a PC to install the drivers for the card, so I asked the salesman how much they would charge for this. "$95" was the reply. I felt this was a little steep, as I had just paid $99 for the card itself, so I declined. After asking around a few other shops I realised this was actually quite cheap, as the other shops either had no idea what I was talking about or would have charged me even more. I was finally rescued by an excellent salesman in the Gateway computer shop round the corner from my hotel. When I explained what I needed he said they only offered technical support on Gateway machines. I said I didn't need any support, just the use of a PC for about 15 minutes.
"So if I were to turn my back while you used one of the PCs in the shop, that would be all you need?"
"Yes, that's all I need. Is that okay with you?"
"I have no idea who you are or what you're talking about." He smiled.
Armed with this tacit agreement, I selected a PC in the corner of the shop and got to work. I downloaded and installed ActiveSync from the Microsoft website, plugged in my handheld and established a serial connection then installed the drivers from the CD provided with the card. One this was completed I unplugged the serial link and uninstalled ActiveSync, leaving the PC exactly as I found it. The salesman was talking to a customer, so I gave him a thumbs up as I left the shop. He smiled again.
In between technical support stops I went to see some of New York's famous buildings. Near Grand Central station is the Chrysler building. It's not open to the public but it's still an amazing building. I then went down to its big brother, the Empire State building. This one is open to the public, but I couldn't be bothered to queue up to get the lift. The queue goes halfway around the building and there's an X-ray machine, metal detector and bag search to get through (just in case someone tries to hijack the building, I suppose).
Just round the corner is one of the best comic shops in New York, which was recommended to me by a friend of Kit's - Jim Hanleys Universe (33rd Street between 5th and 6th Avenue). Well worth a visit if you're in to that sort of thing. I was looking for a specific comic - "White Trash", which was published when I was a student. A friend of mine had it and Martin's been trying to get hold of a copy ever since, so I thought I'd check into it. Amazingly enough it has just been republished after 10 years, so I bought a copy for Martin's birthday. I also bought a copy of T-shirts, one of which was an image taken from Neil Gaiman's Sandman series. I had noticed in Time Out that he was doing a reading and signing session for his new book at 18:00 in Barnes and Noble (East 17th Street between Broadway and Park Avenue South). I walked down there, stopping on the way to have a look in Macy's, apparently the world's largest department store. I found it rather disappointing - not a patch on Harrods.
I arrived at Barnes and Noble just before 18:00 and made my way up to the fourth floor. There is a large open area at the back with a small stage, but it was already packed. There were three hundred seats at the front in a roped off area, which you had to have a ticket for. The rest of us got to stand behind the rope. Neil appeared shortly after 18:00 and read from his new book "Coraline" for about 20 minutes, did about half an hour of questions and answers then a short speech about what he was working on at the moment. He seems to have his finger in many pies, although most of the films are being held up by lack of funding. There has been talk of a film of "Good Omens", which he wrote with Terry Pratchett, to be directed by Terry Gilliam, and they already have $45 million but when they went to the studio to get another $15 million they said no, because they were scared of Terry Gilliam!
After the talk Neil started signing books. I had managed to get myself at the start of the queue for signings, but they had to get through the three hundred people with tickets first. I sat there for a while and read "Bone in the throat" by Anthony Bourdain, but after an hour or so the woman in charge came round and said Neil was talking to everyone who wanted a signing so they probably weren't going to have time to get to us. I had wanted to get a copy of the new book signed for Martin's birthday, but they had some copies that had been signed earlier so I bought one of them instead.
I stopped off at a café on the way home and had a hot dog with chilli (traditional American food) which was very good, then went back to the hotel.

Wednesday 10th July: I was due at Kit's apartment at 11:30, but I had some shopping to do first. I went to CompUSA and got a CD of computer games, then walked up to Barnes and Noble and got a copy of "Kitchen Confidential". I was a little late getting to Kit's, but she was still getting ready so I sat on the bed while she opened her birthday presents (carefully presented in a Dean and Deluca paper bag).
When she was ready we went to a shoe shop where she bought a new pair of pink sandals. I had a hot dog - most disappointing, I was expecting it to be covered in relish, chilli and kraut but all they had was mustard and ketchup - then we got a taxi to the Lincoln centre. For her birthday Kit wanted to go to the ballet - the Kirov Ballet were performing "La Bayadère". I know nothing about ballet, in fact I've never even been to one, so I had no idea what to expect. We got standing tickets, which meant we were standing at the back of the ground floor. The seats were less than half full, so we were expecting to be allowed to sit down once the performance started, but the overzealous ushers actually roped us in to the standing area to stop us leaving (I'm sure this must be against the fire regulations). I attempted to read the story (not an easy task, as it's more complicated than the Silmarillion - it's very like one of those Indian singing soap operas you see on Channel 4) while Kit fumed about the seats.
The first act was quite enjoyable, although I had a few problems figuring out which character was which. This was partly to do with our view of the stage, which was hampered by the seats above us which cut off most of the top of the stage. I followed Kit outside so she could have a cigarette, and we noticed a purse lying on the seats just to the left of the entrance. There was quite a lot of cash as well as the usual collection of credit and ID cards, so Kit wrote out a note explaining we had handed it in to reception, intending to leave it on the seat. However, before she had finished writing it we noticed a ticket stub for the very performance we were attending. We went back inside and found the seat indicated by the stub but there was no-one there. Kit asked a few of the other people in the row if they knew the person sitting there and a woman coming down the aisle said it was her friend. Since she knew the name in the purse we left it with her and grabbed a couple of empty seats further back (well away from where we had been standing for the first act).
The second act was almost as convoluted as the first, but I just about managed to keep up, although I felt myself beginning to fall asleep at one point. Luckily there was an attempted murder on stage at that point and the percussion from the orchestra woke me up. I wonder if the people who write these things slip the dramatic bits in at predefined points to keep people awake?
In the second interval the woman who's purse we had found came and thanked us, although we refused her offer of a reward. Apparently she'd dropped it while breastfeeding her daughter. Kit informed me that the third act was one of the best pieces of choreography in the history of ballet, and her personal favourite, so I settled down to watch attentively.
The start of the afterlife scene is extremely impressive, with a seemingly endless line of ballerinas, all dressed in white, dancing their way onto the stage. The story element of the scene followed. It was the next bit of the act I had a problem with - after they had told the story they spent the next fifteen minutes dancing around. Maybe this is an integral part of any ballet, but I couldn't help thinking that it was a bit like all the singers in an opera (soloists and chorus alike)singing scales for quarter of an hour. It's probably because I'm such a philistine.
After the ballet Kit had to rush off because she had to be at work that evening, so I wandered back to the hotel. I had decided to spend the evening investigating some of New York's famous nightlife with the help of Kit's copy of "Time Out". I scribbled down the names and addresses of a few clubs that were open that evening. They all seemed to be concentrated in the same area - between 14th and 12th Streets and Avenues A and B. I got the #7 bus to Union Square then walked east on 14th Street. I walked past the first club twice before I found it - Barmacy (538 East 14 Street). At first I thought it was shut, but then I saw about three people at the bar. It didn't look too promising, so I decided to move on to the second place on my list. It turned out that Angel (174 Orchard Street) and Totem (505 East 12th Street) are actually only a few doors away from each other, albeit on different streets. I tried Totem first - a very good pint of Hoegarden, marred only slightly by the stuffed moose's head hanging from the ceiling (nose first) over the bar. The regulars obviously knew every word of the obscure 80's hits the DJ was playing, and had even managed to remember some of the dance moves, so I decided not to stay. I went to the (unisex) bathroom and was delighted to find they had provided several pieces of chalk for people to leave nuggets of wisdom on the walls, so I left them with my one American joke (What's the difference between America and yoghurt?) and a Latin quote (this is supposed to be a student area). I hope they enjoyed them.
Around the corner, Angel had a much more adventurous DJ and much more attractive bar (no moose head, and a pretty brunette barmaid called Nicole). I was soon working my way through the Guinness barrel and listening to the burblings of a man called Chris sitting next to me. Apparently he was homeless but owned two properties outside of New York (I'm not sure if this counts) - he spent his nights staying on friends' couches, and had done for the last year or two. I asked him why he didn't move in to one of his own properties, and he looked at me as though I was a complete idiot. Obviously I had committed some horrendous social faux pas. Chris obviously forgave me, because a few minutes later Nicole presented us with two glasses of a brown spirit at his request. I asked him how I should drink it, and he grinned and indicated it should be drunk in one. I think he was rather disappointed when, upon swallowing, I said "Oh, it's Jaegermeister". I think he was hoping for more of a reaction. Another faux pas? I gently explained that I had spent the last three years living in Germany, but I think he was too far gone to understand me. Shortly afterwards he pulled a sheaf of notes from his wallet and scattered them over the bar before staggering out the door. Nicole came over and counted them, then asked me if he was okay because it seemed rather a lot for a tip. I had finished my last drink by now, so I went out and found Chris leaning against a lamppost. I asked him if he was okay and he indicated he was, although I'm not sure if he recognised me. I decided to call it a night and got a cab back to the hotel.
Favourite sign of the day: I saw a poster from the Michael Jackson fan club (poor fools) about a 30th anniversary concert. It said they had obtained a major coo (sic) in getting Michael himself to attend. Does he think he's a pigeon now?

Tuesday 9th July: On Tuesday I decided to do a bit of shopping. I was still looking for several pieces of electronic equipment so I went to a few stores like "Radio Shack" and "CompUSA". I quickly realised that there staff were not chosen for their technical know-how. The guy I spoke to in CompUSA even said he didn't want to deal with my query because it was obviously a waste of his time. Part of the problem is that America, while leading the world in development, is rather behind in sales. The stores tend to stock a few standard lines rather than selling anything new. I was told by one person that the Jornada 720 wasn't due to be released until next year. I showed him the one in my rucksack, which I have owned for two years now, and he looked rather confused.
I managed to buy a power supply (to convert American 110 volts to European 240 V), but for the network card I went to an internet shop. There only seems to be one in the centre of New York - easyInternet on West 42nd Street. I was able to find one card that would be compatible with my system, but none of the large stores seemed to sell it. I finally managed to order it from a small shop on West 45th Street, and they said I could pick it up tomorrow.
Since I was in the area I decided to have a look at Grand Central station. It's an amazing building - wonderful high ceilings, and the main hall has the constellations laid out on the ceiling. They look a little unfamiliar because they're done as a mirror image - the way God would see them when he looks down at us. I'm not sure I agree with this cosmologically, but it's a nice idea.
It was now well after lunchtime, so I decided to treat myself (and my new stomach lining) to a meal at the Oyster Bar. This is located on the dining concourse which runs underneath the main hall. If you're ever there I can highly recommend it. I went for the eggs benedict with smoked salmon (smoked in the restaurant) and a pint of local Weissen, followed up with a slice of Florida Keys lime pie. If I had been feeling a little braver I would have tried the oysters at the fresh bar - they're sold individually, and there's about twenty different types on the menu. Maybe next time.
After lunch I spent a while walking up 5th Avenue. I was amused to see the gardens in front of the Rockefeller Center are called the Channel Gardens - so called because they divide La Maison Française and the British Empire Building. I wonder if there's a tunnel (used by disgruntled employees to escape from one building to another)?
I had been hoping to find a shop selling exotic foods, but when I went into Saks I discovered they only sell clothes. I thought the idea of a department store was that it had more than one department. I decided to try the best, so hopped on a subway down to SoHo to visit Dean and Deluca. It's an incredible place - they have just about anything to do with cooking and food. I bought a box of Marron Glacé and a coffee mug.
On leaving the shop I stopped at a payphone. I'd been trying to use my international calling card all day, but the number had been engaged. I suddenly realised I had left the card at the last phone I had tried to use. I thought it was on 42nd Street so I got the subway back there, but the card had gone, so I called the card company and cancelled it. They can't give me the new number over the phone, but they're going to call and leave it on my mobile.
I went back to the hotel for a shower and change of clothes. Kit had told me about a couple of Irish bars in the area, one on 51st and one on 55th, so I went to try them out. I had a good pint of Guinness in one, and Murphys in the next, but they were both quite quiet. I wandered around for a while and ended up in a bar called Ned Kellys on 9th Avenue. I was assuming it was an Australian bar, but they didn't have any Australian food or drinks. I got talking to the barman, Jerry, and he said it was just a name and most people didn't know who he was. Jerry is Irish but had been living here for 18 years. I also talked to a girl called Anne, who is American but spent a year in London at college. As far as I could tell she spent the entire year being sick in taxis. When the bar closed I walked her as far as Columbus Circle then I went to get something to eat. One of the things I really like here is that on every block there's a Deli open 24 hours. You can get water, beer, pizza slices, tuna salad and bagels at any time. This probably goes a long way towards explaining why so many people are so fat here.