Twenty hours is a long time for a flight. Which could be terrifying, if not for the fact that I am flying in an uber posh and comfortable business-class environment. Before you think this blog entry is all about living the high life in New York for the past couple of weeks on corporate expense and eating great food (of which, there was some of that), but mostly, I think it’s about reconnecting with a city that I love.

Skyscrapers and MOMA

Zen and the art of photography maintenence

I have been to

New York

many times before, and

America

for me has always been a difficult country to reconcile with. Until now, I am not sure if I like it. I certainly do detest Immigration Services that treats everyone like a potential tourist. And for me, that’s an insult, because I am incredibly cute – even after a grueling twenty hour flight. It’s probably the only instance where one is guilty until proven innocent.

For a lot of it, many others will understand what I mean when I explain my “love-hate relationship with the world’s global policeman, the financial giant of the world, the necessary prop in modern pop culture – since we all love Justin Timberlake, Kanye West and Wentworth Miller, it’s hard to ignore this proud country that on one hand spawns geniuses, but also the likes of Ms South Carolina. So, that’s the conundrum of the

U.S.

But none is more stark than this mixbag representation in

New York

.

New York

has the added element of immigrants, adding to the already complex and hard-to-define cultural space. There is more Spanish spoken here than English. There are the white-bred, provincial East-coast educated rich, there are the black rappers, the latino hotties, the slaving Mexican chefs , the Asian expensives, the Bridge and Tunnel crowd, and the electro artsy kids that hang out in the East Village in skinny jeans, checkered scarfs and messy curls. Of course, there are also the colourless that represent themselves clearly everyday - those are called bankers, consultants. *snigger* Everyone belongs to a modern class system that segments not along aristocracies, but along self-made individualities. As Lindsay most rightfully said, “

New York

is the only place where one can go PUBLICLY crazy, and no one would care.’ And he is right. But one should not mix the non-caring with a sense of true freedom. True freedom is about cultural acceptance, of which, I am not sure

America

has the extent to do that, since everyone is blessed with free speech and an opinions, this tends to a landscape of judgment and/ or  justification.  Everyone has an opinion and clearly announces it; one just needs to understand that only one’s own opinion counts. I have the least right to speak about this, since I live in a policed state, and politics nor a sense of history exists.

As much as

America

is about big box retail and economies of scale,

New York

is all about detail; a very large city, with very many small things, places and a multitude of little lives, that make up a very big and very bright city. It’s a smorgasboard of cloistered buildings in

Manhattan

. I wake up daily staring into the workstation of some guy who is already at this desk writing emails. I see movements in the office, people having meetings, some look stressed, most are eating snacks at their desk, with pictures of their kids or friends on their desks. So close, but so far away. The security guard at my office has two jobs, I heard that waiters sometimes have three. It’s a harsh city. An expensive city where the average banker makes 100x the annual salary of a cook that turns out the very item that sustains life.

Threading through the tourist traps of Midtown Manhattan is a nightmare experience. There is an eagerness about first-time tourists. And of course, this is exacerbated by the commercial ruthlessness of businesses that cater to all possible tourist fears and fantasies. Who doesn’t need guided tours, city rides, museum passes and a duck tour? To me, it’s the kind of experience that people often describe it as, “ Well, it was interesting, but I was glad I tried it.” And you know what that really translates into. It’s a euphemism for, “ I really thought it was shite, it was an anal-probing experience, but I definitely got something out of it.” It’s consolatory talk.

Pop Burger, very odd burger joint with a hip hop club in the bag. Fries and booty go hand in hand I suppose

Chi-chi bar that only slick and well-heeled go to. Ganservoort Hotel. I was an anomaly, even with my Laundry dress on

The most colourful life occurs in the East and

West

Village

, with the coolest record stores, bookstores, clothing stores and amazing cafes. Here, everyone has a little stylistic flash, a tiny something that speaks about them that comes in the form of military-style bags, or badges with shout-outs, or crazy hair. This is much more my scene.  The weekend uptown yuppies are also readily spotted, with their manicured dogs that wear clothing and booties, and the weekend edition of the FT laid out, eating cornmeal pancakes with organic buttermilk spread and fresh berries.  Here, the retail shoppees play Joanna Newsom, Regina Spektor, Wilco and Radiohead. No rap, no Avril Lavigne, no traces of pop

America

. All too precious.

Shota in summer dress - at the awesome Cafe Colonial

Pier #40 is an odd Brighton Beachy pier outlet, where people walk their dogs, read and suntan on the grass patch. This is all dandy, with the bright sun shining, the blueness of the

Hudson

reflecting against the cool sky, and the sight of industrial

New Jersey

spread out across. All this sounds very pretty if not for the slightly odd fact that this is a place where all the gay men are holding little handbags, looking for dates or liaisons. In particular, I am told it is often a favorite spot for black, young, skinny gay boys in particular to cruise. This is all very specific….only to add to my whole hypothesis of the “smallness of

New York

” and its ability to be very otaku.

The Strand Bookstore on Broadway and 12^th is probably the world’s coolest bookstore. It’s old, dumpy and smells musty. It has vast sections on literature, history, art and rare antique reads. The basement (un-airconditioned) spots huge old fans that do little but sweep hot air around. Here, I find Green’s “The Elegant Universe” for $6, a biography of Eeinstein for $5 and a biography on Christopher Marlowe.   2 hours later armed with my years’ reading in hand, I head over to the

East

Village

for an Insead gathering, which is as always, in a semi-chi-chi place that serves passable food for exorbitant prices. It’s great to catch up on the gossip and the careers of what everyone is doing, but the stories are awfully similar and diversity is always far more interesting to rattle on about. ; )

Pateel’s b-day bash at the most unlikely club in Chinatown

At this point, as much as I have been talking through

New York

, I discover oddly that people are increasing interested in

Singapore

. I get fired questions on everything from the economy (good) to salary scales (depends on if you are a banker or consultant, the rest simply exist), food (excellent) and the justice system (huh?). This week’s New Yorker features a 6 page article on hawker centers in

Singapore

. Everyone has heard about the escalating cost of living. Am I going mad or

Singapore

is gaining global significance? How strange. I wish I had a better answer to the chewing gum queries or the Hello Kitty fads or the caning of Michael Fay. I don’t because it’s not something that is a part of my existence. All I can say is that there is some very practical rationale behind these obtuse rulings or strange actions. The chewing gum ban was largely due to people spitting gum everywhere, in particular, in the very new subway trains that were just built (very high capex) at that time, and consequent jamming up of the train doors.  The Hello Kitty fad is just an extension of the Asian need for consumerism. Sometimes, I think it’s an over-reaction to having been colonized, You fight for some way to exert yourself. The black people found soul and rap. We found purchasing limited editions of Hello Kitties equally satisfying. The caning rule – I can’t comment on fairness but we all know that justice is not about fairness but reasonableness. It was to make an example of a fairly bad graffiti artist, who also happened to have a politically well-placed father. I would have caned him for the bad graffiti art…travesty I say. In fact universally, I think all idiots who spray paint or scratch shit like “I love Mimi” or draw stick figures or like write crap like “Rock rawks” in Arial equivalent should be smacked quite hard.

I miss

New York

already. I miss the loud American voices at bars that shout their entire life stories out, the psycho neurosis that surrounds the guilt of eating, the financial geniuses on Wall Street. The “can-do” American spirit is somewhat grating, but optimistic. A lot of economies can learn from this.  Just stay away from the bad TV programming and I think the world and the U.S can get along quite well.

View of new york from Jersey:

View of Jersey from New york

My Paddington raincoat…!

Lunch with the infamous Johnny Lee

Proper graffit with paper mache imprint