We woke up to a beautiful, sunny Sunday morning, so we decided to get out of Canterbury and spend the day in London. It was a chance to catch up with Aude’s brother for some lunch, hear all about his various trips around the world, and to begin doing some wedding shopping.

Sitting on the train, Aude can barely contain her excitement about travelling to the big City

Matthew, on the other hand, rides this train to work every morning and is a little more apprehensive…

Of course, this being Britain, by the time we were up and dressed it was pouring with rain – and it remained that way for most of the day. We caught the train to London Bridge and met Jerome, then caught the underground to Oxford Circus where we walked to Soho for lunch in a Korean restaurant. I was quite excited about this, because I’ve got the sort of naïve sense of excitement that is easily satisfied by having my food cooked in front of me. I’m equally impressed in Mongolian Barbeques, Japanese Steakhouses, and any French place that flambés anything. Having ordered barbequed chicken, pork, and beef, imagine my disappointment when everything was simply served on sizzling platters. It was like Coke without the bubbles – it may taste the same, but it lacks a certain pizzazz.

Jerome and Aude, not yet fully appreciating the disappointment of not having their lunch cooked at their table.

From there, we went around the corner for a quick coffee at Liberty’s, then Aude and I set off for a series of disappointing shopping experiences across London. It reminded us of two things: first, it’s harder to spend money in London than you might imagine; and second, this is still a city where the majority of stores are closed on a Sunday. Demoralised, we grabbed some shopping and caught the train home.

Jerome looking relaxed after several weeks off lounging in the sun. Still, give him two weeks at an investment bank and he’ll be his pale, tired self! 😉

Matthew and Aude have to make due with a cup of coffee in Liberty’s for their relaxation.

Aude does some window shopping

The highlight of our journey (and maybe our day?) was an onion falling out of one of our shopping bags (stored overhead) and landing in the lap of the rather surprised, but very good-natured, Scottish woman sitting opposite us. Having just re-read the last sentence, please believe me when I tell you it was funnier if you were there.

It’s bloody FREEZING! I think we must have brought the cold weather home with us. After dragging my jet-lagged body out of bed this morning, I was greeted with arctic gales and frosty temperatures, a real change after the very mild winter we’ve had so far. To make matters worse, I was running late and didn’t have time to grab my normal cup of coffee before jumping on the train. It’s a rough way to start the week.

Back to New York. We arrived late on Thursday night, delayed an hour because the pilots had trouble getting to the airport. We had severe winds on Thursday night, downing trees and power lines across the country, and generally making travel of all sorts difficult. The strong headwind also meant that our flight took longer – we eventually arrived in New York around midnight, and got to our hotel around 1am. New York roads are as bad as ever, and I saw my life flash before my eyes several times on the cab journey from the airport.

Lobby of the Sheraton New York. I was upgraded to a nice suite, but Anne Laure and Neil were “upgraded” to a handicapped room, where everything was designed for someone 3ft tall.

We were up early on Friday morning and decided to hit the city. I wanted to hit B&H Photo – closed on Friday afternoons and Saturdays because it’s run by Orthodox Jews – so that was the first order of business. I ended up with a 50mm lens for my camera and a new camera bag. And I talked Neil into buying one as well (…and so starts the addiction!).

Matthew tries to decide which lens he wants.

Neil was giving me a hard time about buying a lot of stuff — until we saw this guy. He must have bought every accessory in the store! He dumped everything out on the floor and packed it into his new camera bag.

We stopped off for a Mexican lunch, then headed to the International Photography Center, where we saw the Henri Cartier-Bresson exhibition I had wanted to see in Paris. I thought it was fitting to see his photos, a sort of “tribute” to a 50mm lens, in light of my new purchase.

Friday evening we met up with my friend Peter and his girlfriend for a few drinks at the W Hotel at Times Square, then headed out to dinner at Les Halles, Anthony Bourdin’s original NY restaurant, where Aude and I split a piece of steak just slightly larger than my head.

At the Whiskey Bar, beneath the W Hotel in Times Square. (Photo courtesy of Peter)

MG rode up from her home-away-from-home in New Jersey on Saturday – her first trip to New York. We picked her up at Penn Station and went straight into Macy’s – start as you meant to continue. On a tip from Peter’s girlfriend, we all met for lunch at Golden Bridge in Chinatown for dim sum – and were pretty much the only white people there.

Dim sum with everyone at the Golden Bridge restaurant in Chinatown. (Photo courtesy of Peter)

After gorging ourselves, we spent the afternoon exploring the city – Times Square, Fifth Avenue, the World Trade Centre site – then onto the real New York landmark – Century 21! Famished after hours of shopping, we headed to Little Italy for dinner. We had some fantastic veal, then went around the corner to Ferrara’s bakery for some dessert. After trying unsuccessfully to hail a cab, I managed to blag a ride home in a passing limo.

We were up like clockwork on Sunday morning, Neil’s stomach calling out for food. There was no avoiding it – we needed breakfast at a Jewish deli. We went into Carnegie Deli on 7th Ave and had a traditional deli breakfast with all the trimmings – including a waitress who looked like she’d been working there since the turn of the century. The nineteenth century.

The gang at the Carnegie Deli, shortly before being abused by the pre-historic waitress.

Clearly unimpressed with our unfamiliarity with deli procedure, she served us cheerlessly with her patented “service without a smile.” Still, it could be worse. She yelled at the retired travellers behind us for ordering a side-order of cream cheese, complaining that she had to walk all the way back to the kitchen. Funny, that’s what I thought her job was.

She added a 20% gratuity to our bill.

I got to thinking – if she keeps her tips ($14 on our $70 bill) and serves ten tables an hour, she’s clearing $140 an hour in tips. Assuming she works a 4-hour shift, five days a week, that’s $140K a year – a significant portion of which, I assume, does not get reported to the tax man. It’s easy to look at a 70+ year old woman and feel sorry that she has to work as a waitress. But then I did the arithmetic and my sympathy was tempered somewhat. She’s laughing all the way to the bank.

Some completely mad people running a half-marathon in Central Park in the middle of winter.

Laden with food, we headed up to Central Park, where we caught the tail end of the half-marathon that Peter was running in. We didn’t manage to catch him (he was too quick for us) but we did get a chance to see some of his slower competitors bringing up the rear.

Skaters in Rockefeller Center.

Neil finds heaven on Fifth Avenue.

Heaven, like God himself, takes many forms. For MG, it comes in the form of Prada.

After discovering that all the shops on Fifth don’t open until 11am on a Saturday, we headed town to the Staten Island Ferry.

Neil is, frankly, a little skeptical of my subway navigation skills.

Aude, on the other hand, is totally unimpressed and threatens to leave me for one of the rats that run down the tracks!

The New York subway.

In their wisdom, someone put me in charge of navigating the Metro. I learned a number of embarrassing lessons about riding the New York subway.

1. You can only swipe four people through on a Metro card. Which means that, if you’re the fifth guy, you look like jackass when you then try to swipe yourself through, instead getting impaled on the barrier.
2. Colours and lines do not correspond 1-to-1. Which helps explain why it took four separate trains to get from 50th to the South Ferry.
3. If ever your swipe card doesn’t work, wrapping it with a dollar bill to clean the sensors is a surprising effective trick.
4. Trains are infuriatingly infrequent on a Sunday. Particularly if you need to change four times because your map-reader doesn’t quite understand the subway system.
5. If you’re going less than 20 blocks, take a cab. It’s just as cheap, and a damn sight quicker and more convenient.

After a ride on nearly every subway line, we finally reached the Staten Island Ferry.

Anne Laure and Neil on the Staten Island Ferry.

Matt and Neil enjoy a New York delicacy – a hot pretzel with mustard.

After the Staten Island Ferry and the Statue of Liberty, it was back to 5th Ave for some more shopping. We worked our way down until we eventually ended up at Macy’s again – MG was jealous of the cheap cashmere sweaters I had found and wasn’t going to leave Manhattan until she had some of her own.

We reconvened with Anne Laure and Neil on Sunday night – a low key dinner at Sushiden (fantastic sushi and very accommodating waitresses, endlessly entertained by Neil’s “sake bombs” but not terribly fluent in English. When asked what something was, our waitress helpfully informed us that she “knew the name in Japanese”.) Early to bed, we were up at 5am for our trip back to JFK.

So there you have it – three days in New York. It actually felt much longer. We hit all the big sights, did our bit for the US economy, grabbed a few bargains, and ate enough to feed an army. Best £200 I’ve spent in a long time.

Celebrity sightings while in NY:

1. Richard Wilkins – Australian TV presenter and recent winner of “Australia’s Worst Show Biz TV Reporter” in the 2006 Fugly Awards.” Staying at our hotel.
2. Jean-Baptiste Requien, Gordon Ramsay’s right-hand man, at Ramsay’s restaurant in New York. Anne-Laure tried to sweet-talk her way into a table, but no dice.
3. Crazy “I Surrender” Guy – clearly a man who has spent quite a while in incarceration. Spotted walking off the Staten Island Ferry, hands in the air, trying to surrender to anyone in a uniform – Transit Police, dock operators, and the hotdog vendor. Could have been a relative of Henry Earl.
4. “Dances With Cats” – spotted on the Staten Island Ferry with a curiously noisy shopping bag.
5. Fat “Shouts at Passers-By” Guy, spotted shouting at passers-by at the corner of 44th and 5th.
6. Mr Rhetorical Questions, spotted countless examples of these fellows (and ladies) who speak endlessly to themselves.

Another one of New York’s colourful characters!

Seems like the perfect character to set off the one above!

Still, it wouldn’t be New York without characters like these.

We’re just back from our long weekend in New York, propping up the US economy and taking advantage of the weak dollar for a long weekend of shopping, sight-seeing, and eating! We managed to miss the weeks and weeks of warm, pleasant weather and hit the city right in the middle of a seriously cold spell — high temperatures most days were below freezing, with gusty winds making the problem even worse.

Still, we had a great time, snagged some really good bargains, and caught up with some old friends. More pictures coming soon, but here are a few to start!

Aude and Anne Laure with a very small Statue of Liberty. Neil refused to pose for this photo on principle. Spoilsport.

Aude and Anne Laure in front of Radio City Music Hall.

Anne Laure and Neil in front of the ice rink at Rockefeller Center.

Even when he’s on vacation, Matthew never takes his eye off his work. Here he is in front of the offices in New York checking his Blackberry. Ironically, the office was the first thing we spotted from our hotel window. You can’t miss it — the neon sign is 200 feet tall!

Matthew relaxes in the hotel room after a long day of shopping.

The three amigos – Aude, Maria Grazia, and Anne Laure, all pose for a group shot.

It was great to see Peter again after so long. It looks like he feels the same way.

Anne Laure and Neil waiting for the subway.

All of Maria Grazia’s wishes come true at once. Looking peaceful and calm, she has clearly attained nirvana.

Well, the weather didn’t cooperate, but otherwise we had a lovely weekend in Normandy visiting Aude’s grandfather.

Having narrowly avoided the Friday evening proposal-writing session at the office, I ended up spending several hours talking to my mother on the phone on Friday evening – and subsequently didn’t get to bed until nearly midnight. Which, with my early starts most mornings, qualifies as “late” these days.

We set off early on Saturday morning (too early, actually – I prefer my weekends to start after 6am!) and caught the 8am Eurotunnel to Calais. From Calais, we drove down to Montreuil sur Mer where the Wine Society has their European shop, and restocked our wine cellar. On the recommendation of the shopkeeper, we decided to try a local restaurant for lunch but changed our minds when we were put off by the proprietor.

She was the stereotypical arrogant, rude French person that every English-speaker fears – the stuff of whom legend is made. And Aude was right there beside me to witness it all – and agreed with my assessment. It’s people like this that are giving the French a bad name.

It was all our fault, you understand. We’d entered the restaurant at 11:50am. Aude had politely asked, in French, whether they were serving lunch yet or whether we were too early. “You’re too early,” came the reply. “Come back when we’re open!”

We asked what time they opened. “12 o’clock!” she said.

We should have recognised her displeasure at having arrived ten minutes before the designated serving time and left then and there. But since there wasn’t a full menu posted in the window, we asked if perhaps we couldn’t have a quick look at the menu. I’ve never seen such a roll of the eyes or heard such a sharp intake of breath. Who were these two idiots in her restaurant, so mal élevé?

We left the restaurant, wishing her a future of bankruptcy and food poisoning. We had a steak around the corner instead.

Lunch behind us, and with a boot full of booze, we headed down to Normandy to meet Aude’s grandfather. Luckily, we had a much warmer reception when we got to the Manoir where we were staying (more about that with photos to come later). We were greeted like long lost friends. The hotel and room were beautiful, with a warm log fire to greet us.

We spent the afternoon visiting with Aude’s grandfather and looking through some old family photographs. Jerome, if you’re reading this, I’ve seen the photographs of you in the pyjamas with bunny ears. God help you if you should ever decide to go into politics.

We had a lovely meal yesterday evening with Aude’s grandfather at a restaurant in the centre of town, then went back to his place this morning with a charcuterie and had lunch with him. We hit the road around 2pm with the best intentions of seeing some of the Norman coast, but it wasn’t to be. It poured with rain all afternoon.

Our plans thwarted, we headed straight for the tunnel and caught an early train home. Short of my mother calling, I should be in bed by 10pm tonight, ready for another week!

Aude picks an apple, the fruit that made Normandy famous…

Aude in front of the Manoir

Tired of having only one boyfriend, Aude chats up some of the alternative Frenchman. Her first effort isn’t terribly successful, landing her a boyfriend a lot like most of her ex’s.

Her second effort was more successful. She caught this good-looking fellow, but eventually rejected him because she found him a little two-dimensional.

Suddenly, every Frenchman in town heard that there was a young single girl on the market. Aude had no choice but to hide for cover.

Aude and her grandfather outside his house.

Matthew and Aude’s grandfather. For the record, he doesn’t hate me (despite the body language here). It’s just that Aude and auto-focus have an uneasy relationship, and this was the only shot that was even remotely in focus!!!

Aude and her grandfather in front of his house in Orbec.

Matthew and Aude’s grandfather. I haven’t farted. Honestly. Please see my previous comment about Aude’s auto-focus ability.

Aude’s grandfather as we had lunch together.

My mother and I were speaking on the telephone the other night, and I was describing the farmer’s market and restaurant across the street from our house. Still, a picture’s worth a thousand words — so I figured I’d save the cost of a 45-minute transatlantic call and include about 5,000 words worth of description here:

Fruit and vegetables stall — locally grown and organic

The restaurant at the back of the food hall. Most of the ingredients are sourced from the market.

The French charcuterie, which keeps Aude in saucisson.

A view over the entire hall from the restaurant.

View of the front of the market, as seen from our front door.

Say what you want, but I’d rather have this across the street as our “local shop” than a 7-Eleven anyday.