Tourist in My Town

New York City feels to me like a place I will never have fully explored, and that makes it even more appealing - it remains quite the elusive figure: she whose depths will never quite be plumbed. Luckily, excited friends visiting often have their own ideas about fun places to go. And I can host and go along for the ride.

My great friend Nina visited me a couple of weeks back, armed with the latest copy of Time Out - circled in black throughout with the must-sees and the might-sees. I've known Nina for ten years, since we both worked on an American study abroad program(me) in Oxford, she as a visiting professor, I as British student mentor. On our very first day of meeting we discovered a shared love of literature, films and cocktails. A potent combination for friendship. Ten years later our weekend plans, perhaps unsurprisingly, included a bar or four, a movie and a trip to St Mark's book store.

The Original Speakeasy Look

A long established trend in the city of New York is a revisiting of the drinking heritage of speakeasies. Once the way around the prohibition era, the speakeasies paved the way for women's entry into bar life. (Well, if you make drinking in bars illegal for everyone, what's to say that some are more illegal than others?) An FBI study proved that the longest time it took - across America - to get an illegal drink in any such speakeasy from the time one arrived at any railway station, was about 3 minutes. (In New Orleans they even had a speakeasy in the station. Smart thinking!)

Two modern speakeasies of note are PDT (Please Don't Tell) - which I will obey and leave mysterious for now (though I'm pretty sure that those in the know need no telling anyhow) and Death and Company. Addams' Family-style doors and a sombre, soberly dressed doorman lead the way into the dark bar, lit by candles and not much else. Air conditioning and credit card payments the two key modern attributes of this otherwise authentic looking bar. Well, that and the hipster clientele.

A candle-lit Vesper - chilled and delicious

Further to the speakeasy trend, the prevalence of bearded New York city bar tenders only contributes to the air of casual subversiveness. I'm not quite sure why this is. Bill Bryson is someone I'd never describe as casually subversive in this way, beard or no beard, but the young, bristly bearded men seem like they've said, "Aesthetically I'm over the studied chic. It's time to let it all hang out." So maybe Sixties cocktail lounges will be next.

Visiting Gilbert and George's London Pictures, East Village NYC

Discovering new places with old friends is one of the greatest pleasures of catching up - when there's so much in the way of catch up conversation, but there's also enough new experience in the mix that one can fluctuate between the two - take a break from one and get back to the other. Bar hopping, gallery dipping, cinema viewing (we saw Headhunters - Danish crime / suspense drama) and book shop browsing provided perfectly poised antidotes for our incessant catch up chatter.

Sushi at Ooki, to finish it all off on Saturday night, was a perfect end to a perfect 'staycation' with a great friend.

Jubilee Jubilations - Back Home!

Back on the plane on 31st May it has been 7 weeks since I left the UK for a whole new, New York, adventure.

Jubilee Jubilations at the local kitchen shop InSync

Being back home in Teddington with Mat once again, it was hard to shake the sensation of unreality thinking back to the project and my apartment. In a different time zone, with different accents, currency, climate (certainly) and surroundings the project and New York experience felt farther away than a half remembered dream.

Dr and Mrs...Back Together Again

Not wishing to rend the pictures here a host of before to after photos of my rapidly expanding waist-line, owing to all the food and drink consumed (liberally) with great friends over these few days, I will stick to bunting and views mostly, and let the pictures talk for themselves.

A very flat tyre indeed

One small homage, however, to the drama of my visit home in the shape of the above - a very, VERY flat tyre. (For Americans reading, please note the use of the British spelling of the word tyre.) Travelling home to the UK, I wanted to visit my family and Mat's, so our little used old car was put to her paces to schlep up the motorway to Nottingham and back on my first full UK day.

Alas, the journey home in the perpetual English drizzle had more excitement than planned when the car began to shake (literally) in the right hand lane of the motorway, whilst travelling at about 90 MPH. Oh dear! We pulled over (thankfully - safely) on the hard shoulder, happily right by a rescue telephone, and were able to connect with the AA. 

Much to the bemusement of passing motorists, not even the rain and spray from the speeding traffic could

dampen our high spirits at being back together again and safe, so the two stray roadsiders enjoyed hooting from the road as we hugged and kissed in the rain, and giggled at how ridiculous - really - it all was.

Back Home - St Paul's in the Sunshine

Wherever I am in the world I always feel connected to Mat - and we live in a fortunate age of video chat where we can see each other every day, and 'date' when we feel like it. That said, being at home back with my husband was wonderful. I can't wait for Mat to be here for the summer so we can explore a whole host of New York adventures together.

Richmond Riverside from our Proposal Spot

The remaining days passed without traffic incidents, and weather behaved itself just enough to allow to odd jaunt out for a walk to such beauty spots and favourite places as Richmond Riverside. As you will see below, we saw that some people viewed the Jubilee as less pomp and circumstance and more, well, pants.

The Jubilee - Pants on Parade

Finding Chi in Chi-town

It's Memorial Day in the US this Monday, so I'm experiencing my first ever USA long weekend, with no work on Monday, and have come to Chicago to visit a dear old(!) friend for the pleasure of it. Finally I'm becoming accustomed to the block and grid set up of New York, when I arrive here to find yet another layer of simplicity and reason added to the mix. In Chicago, not only are there streets named with numbers in ascending order, and avenues as 'cross streets' but each property's number corresponds to the number of the street - meaning that 2200 is on 22nd Street and so on...No more getting completely lost with numbering when I realise in the cab I have the number of the building and know what avenue but not what street / vice-versa. People who have problems with orienteering should live here! (More info on this available here! Chicago Encyclopedia - Street Numbering.)

The Downtown view, from 9th Floor Hyde Park (through mozzy guard)

Chicago's Hyde Park area used to be a getaway destination from the downtown commotion and bustle of the business world, and is situated by Lake Michigan and surrounded by trees. Most of the buildings here were build to cater for the holiday crowds, and although they are now apartments these tall, biscuit-coloured buildings used to be hotels in the main, and some still are. The building across from my view here has rooms with fur safes...I have a good UK friend I may have to send in this direction if ever she and her furs make it to Chi-town. The safes have all required features of security, including the addition of a climate control feature.

The Fur Safe Apartments (as they should clearly be named) (through mozzy guard)

Running along the lake shore is a lovely start to the day, as is a visit to Om on the Range yoga in one of their two studios in this city. I've been doing their podcasts for a while now, so it was a real treat to experience Baptiste yoga first hand in their spacious (yet over subscribed!) and 94-degree studio. After a night out drinking gimlets and eating spicy sushi rolls, a morning of fast, hot yoga seemed somewhat daunting, as did the unsavoury notion of sweating it out for 75 minutes in a room half filled with lithe, tanned yoga goddesses, and half with sweat-drenched male, middle aged yoga-fans with an unhealthy desire to practise bare-chested in swimming shorts. Hmmm. Perseverance, though, is often rewarded, thank goodness, so leaving the studio more zen than when I entered seemed a lovely release from some of the stresses of finding, acquiring and furnishing an apartment within a two week period!

Welcoming Sign outside Studio at Om on The Range

Tonight, Thai food and rose; tomorrow, possibly pancakes, and the architecture river cruise. Happy holidays everyone in USA. UK friends, I'll hope to see you in a week's time!

Bed, Bath and Beyond...before and after

It's spring time in New York, and the streets are full of butterflies. Among the tourists and commuters hankering for sidewalk space, the red admiral butterflies particularly seem very keen to get into Foot Locker. But seeing nothing in his size, I presume, one headed on to Bank of America instead.

The spring time weather brings out the hipsters in their shorts and sunglasses, the bohemian types in sun dresses and sandals, and on Sundays the smart sun dresses and flats for champagne brunches. And for shopping, which seems less a pastime here than a sport and a necessity.

View from my bedroom area through to the front room

For me, this was the time to find an apartment. Having successfully acquired a bank account with little to no trouble, I was excited to start this process and looked through hundreds of adverts on Craig's List and many other sites to find the perfect New York pied-a-terre. All lined up to spend my first Saturday hunting for apartments with a broker, I never heard from the guy after our first phone conversation, so was immediately off-piste looking for individual places online.

It seems that the fast life style in New York most certainly applies to apartment hunting. Within seconds of texting a potential apartment contact I had lined up an appointment for three hours later, and took myself off to the Upper East Side. To see the smallest apartment I had imagined. Literally, a small boxy room which could house (I would guess) a futon or sofa bed, a small table and a TV. In one room. Tiny closet. Tiny kitchen, tiny (powder blue) bathroom. (Comparatively) massive price tag. And facing onto 2nd Ave, where the 2nd Ave subway is being constructed at a snail's pace.

Exposed Brick Wall in the Front Room

Only one set of applicants were able to apply for each apartment at the same time. And sadly, a couple were ahead of me in the race. Such a shame. Luckily, they left quickly and I pounced on the broker for another opportunity, and she took me to a larger apartment which no one had seen yet. It was when I left and realised that I was already decorating it that I knew I had to attack. With a nifty trip to Staples on Sunday, suddenly I had produced all the documentation I needed and one week later I moved in!

Kitchen (I) complete with US sized fridge

Kitchen (II) with new stove

American apartments usually come unfurnished, so the first weekend moving in focused on fairly important matters like: finding a bed to sleep in, a chair to sit in, and making sure the A/C worked (it does!). And then thinking about the bathroom which Miss Piggy would probably feel more at home in than I did...

Bathroom...yep...

One sunny Saturday a week ago I had no furniture.  One week later, and it's my second weekend in New York. I have trawled the SoHo, downtown and my neighbourhood thrift stores for many different kinds of furniture. Finally I got a bed, a chair, a rug, a dining room, media cabinet, kitchen cart...and a TON of stuff at Bed, Bath and Beyond, where I spent an OBSCENE amount of money.

 Enjoy the before and after pictures and let me know what you think! More on New York lifestyle next time...

After pictures...purchases!

Front room with couch, rug a-la-Mondrian and media cabinet (and the NYC view)!

Bedroom (I)

Bedroom (II)

For some reason the bathroom picture won't upload the right way...so more to come of that...

Motor City / Big Apple

London Pride on Thursday at an English pub on the UES. Hello UK!

After three and a half weeks in the USA I realise what a terrible correspondent I am when I'm on a first project. Everyone who knows me (apart from my husband...thank goodness) may have noticed my lack of correspondence and I'm very sorry for this.

Something about the work and the hubbub of consulting life makes every week a blur of activity. I reach Thursday and get on the train - or, now, the plane - and I exhale. Life suddenly comes back to me on that journey away from the office. I might try to sleep; I might be too excited to sleep if I'm going to visit my wonderful friends and family; I might be spinning from the day and caught up in my thoughts. My head is overrun with these thoughts - whatever they are that day.

Delta Delight

I haven't even read a book until this weekend, when I read - and I really do recommend - the excellent Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children. Definitely read it!

My mind becomes so absorbed in new projects that I find myself dreaming of the spreadsheets, or the PowerPoints, or the messages that are so important to our efforts. I want to do a great job and this invades every hour of my day...even the sleeping hours, so it would seem.

Friday night Marg at Prime Meats, Court St, Brooklyn. GO THERE!

So. I decided with my husband that at 30 something years old this was the perfect time for us to explore new worlds and avenues - modest enough a salary to be able to jump over the pond without giving up a 'job for life' in one place, but at the same time taking the step to stay with my company, which I love, and to commit to exploring new facets of my abilities in different cultural, industrial and geographical locations. And then we dithered and deliberated and reflected on this pipe dream together. A life outside London? A place to live? A job? How could that be possible?

New York State of Mind

And then I was asked to decide much sooner than I wanted to. And being the stubborn person I am - that my husband and I both are - we decided that we would embrace this move and taste the excitement and opportunity; and spit out the bitter gall that required the decision to be made.

Went to the Strand hotel roof top bar - with a view of the ES building. Amazing. Thanks for the complimentary prosecco and margs on Kentucky Derby day...

Derby Day...I was not wearing a hat. I was drinking prosecco.

I am now working in Michigan, in Southfield - near enough to Detroit to make me feel the hum of the roads everywhere I look. The trees are lined with trees and the offices also contain beautiful greenery where I am. Thank goodness for the greenery and the oxygen to dispel the toxic fumes of Motor City - beautiful though some of its industrial qualities may be.

Towncenter, Southfield Michigan

My colleagues are amused at my English-ness (more of that to follow, no doubt!) and I am confusing all manner of waiting staff by my unreasonable (and incomprehensible) requests for "Warrrrter".

So, stick around and let's see how I do. And I'll be home again soon, so we can drink together and catch up in person. I miss you.

The Last 12 Months. Blast from the past...

I can't help but appreciate the difference between a job where I spend four months working at home, sporadically visiting the office for one meeting or another, but mainly alternating between consulting in my scruffs in the flat and wondering when to pop out to M&S to buy supper, and then where I spend one month (of many more to come) getting on aeroplane after plane...from one destination to another travelling around like the nomadic consultant I feel just as at home being.

Life has certainly taken a turn in a different direction from last year when I was in Ghana and Ethiopia. Since then I've visited my home town of Nottingham on a good many occasions by working there for a full 8 months. My mother and I (and my brother and father to a degree) became accomplices in experiencing Nottingham as bonnes vivantes, sampling Wagamama on cheap nights and on Champagne-suitable nights throwing the towel in and paying through the nose for our delicious dinners. I worked for a rather famous retail client for the last 8 months of 2011, and loved every minute of it. One: I was home. 2: the people were FABULOUS. 3. I got MEGA bargains (perhaps not quite as good when I consider the percentage of my salary I contributed to their overall turnover, but hey, they would have been happy!) and I have come away with friends for life.

Nottingham from my hotel. If you know where to look, you can see where I went to school

Nottingham and my last experience was one of the most exciting times in my consulting career. Every day bringing something different (and challenging!) but the fantastic spirit of our team pulling us through at every single hurdle. And occasionally a small amount of sugar to keep us on the right path. Herewith I publicly out Sarah, Heather and Glenn for completely irresistible sweet treats. Oooh, I could just fancy a slice of lemon drizzle.

Sarah and Heather, half way up a mountain!

So after leaving the best project I've been on so far - with the best people - where could measure up next? Probably nowhere, I thought. And I wondered about where I could go next. I wondered in what direction I should be moving now.

And that direction, and that place, turned out to be America. A place I have always felt drawn to, and have made countless visits to in the past - to nearly half of its 50 states now, near enough. - and have felt excited to be a part of. "High performance in USA vs. UK will be different", I knew, and told myself - especially after experiencing the amazing work in play in Care International's Atlanta head office. So. Off to America. Easy. Errr, no. But did I get there? Yes I did. Ladies and Gentlemen, Jessica has flown across then pond once more.

Travels Without My Laptop

Mat and me at the proposal spot...top of Richmond Hill...Saturday 2nd April

Home. It's nice to see you again. It has been a while.

Arriving back in Heathrow on a cloudy day, it was comforting to note that very little had changed. It took much longer to land than it had in any of the other international cities I'd visited over the last three months. And as we emerged from the plane, bleary-eyed and weary-bodied we could rest assured that it would be at least an hour or more before the baggage handlers stirred themselves from yet another tea break to unearth our luggage from the plane and onto the conveyor belts. That is, for those of us lucky enough to have baggage to claim.

Mat "just checking" that we are where we're supposed to be. Brecon Beacons.

I had played out in my head over and over again seeing Mat again and spending the day together revisiting some of our favourite local places. Initially I felt extraordinarily shy and self conscious, seeing my husband - of a few months - but partner of nearly six years again, after so many strange places, and cultural and work experiences apart. After finding that my wreck of a car had successfully made it to the airport it was soon back to the serious business of catching up together, planning where to eat burgers for lunch (The Teddington Arms...I have yet to find a better burger in west London), where to go for an afternoon walk (through Ham and Richmond Park to Richmond Hill, and home again, and what to drink (a delicious glass of rose) while attempting the Guardian prize crossword.

Living in a climate where the lowest temperature is 28 degrees on a very cool morning indeed, I loved the medium-strength warm weather of the UK in April; being able to complete an easy 10 mile walk through Richmond Park with no other fear of traffic than the odd passing stag (or buggy) felt tremendously freeing. The cool breezes and the budding trees were the familiar spring time signs I had been expecting to see for so long, and were with me at last. Stranger to me now was the continuous stream of consciousness I experienced comparing every sight and sound to the Ghanaian equivalents so recently left behind. Gone "JESUS IS LORD" plastered in bold, large letters across the back windows of aggressive-horn-honking taxis; no more stripy lizards darting between my toes. Back to midges, not mosquitoes. Home.

I've now been back nearly two months, and have been on holiday and, after that, at home in London awaiting my next assignment - perhaps even in London for the first time. My own bed again. Running along the Thames again, rather than sweating it out for 10 miles on a treadmill. Power Yoga where the poses actually do something than make me wonder who taught the teacher. Baking with implements other than a metal slotted spoon and two metal saucepans. Home comforts. Ah.

At the top of the Sugar Loaf in Abergavenny. So happy to be at the top, and about to eat crisps to celebrate!

Mat and I embraced our holiday time together with a mini honeymoon trip to the Brecon Beacons. And as the icy sleet cut my cheeks at the top of Fan y Big (yes, it is genuinely, without irony, called that) and I shivered to the bone in my waterproof jacket and trousers, and I lovingly called out to Mat, "Who the bloody hell's idea was this?" I thought to myself: it's good to be home.