Englishman in New York

Howdy.

This entry comes to you from the world's biggest Internet cafe in Times Square in New York.

What I'm about to write will probably sound a little geeky, but ever since I wrote my first blog entry, I've wanted to write an entry with the subject title 'Englishman in New York.' And now that I've done it, it actually feels quite good! Another ambition achieved! Two to go!

I arrived in the capital of the world on Tuesday after a two hour flight from South Beach in Miami. Miami is the worst place I have ever visited - it must surely be the place that devils go to when they die. A plastic place full of beautiful, awful, rude, plastic people.

I was forced to endure three days in the sunshine state after flying in from the Bahamas. I must have been on coke when I decided to include Miami in my travels. And it's not over yet - I have to spend one more day there before I fly home. Aaaargh!

But enough about Miami. What I want to write about is New York City. It's funny, but the strangest thing has happened. I've realised something, something that I could never have predicted or expected. What I've realised, simply, is that I love New York.

Yes - me! Mr. Anti-American.

This is my first visit and I never expected it to affect me in such a way. I understand now why New York has been the inspiration for so many films and musicals and why so many artists have been able to harness the almost tangible energy that runs through these dimly lit streets. I've never experienced anything like it before.

Within just a few hours of flying into LaGuardia airport I knew that this city was going to have a profound affect on me. I was like a kid in a candy store, running through the streets, marvelling at everything around me.

My tour of New York City began yesterday with a trip to the Empire State Building in Manhattan. My hotel is nearby and so it seemed like a logical place to start. I took the audio tour and learnt a little bit about the history of New York. It also gave me the chance to see the entire city spread out before me and to marvel at the scale and the scope of this vast metropolis.

I liked the view so much that I returned to the Empire State Building and looked upon the city by night. It was a beautiful sight, a million lights stretching out before me, seeming to go on forever.

After visiting the Empire State Building I made my way down Fifth Avenue. As I did so I listened to the song by Sting that was the inspiration for this entry - another ambition achieved! (One to go).

While on Fifth Avenue I did something that every visitor to New York should do - I bought a hot dog. And it was pretty darn good! I haven't travelled in a yellow taxi cab yet, but the night is still young!

After devouring another 2 hot dogs I made my way to the ice skating rink at the Rockefeller Center. I stood there and watched a few dozen people skating and I wanted, more than anything, to join them. Yet I lacked the confidence to do so.

That sounds strange, I know. I can travel halfway across the world, I can swim with sharks, I can go paragliding, I can eat in restaurants alone and yet I can't bring myself to go ice skating alone?

Even with all these thoughts going through my head I still couldn't bring myself to step onto that ice rink. The head said yes but the feet said no. The truth is I'm a shy person, I lack confidence and there are just some things I find it difficult. I guess that ice skating alone is one of them.

So I left the Rockefeller Center behind and made my way to St Patrick's Cathedral, the oldest cathedral in New York. It was okay, though my eyes were drawn to the gigantic American flag hanging from the ceiling. The stars and stripes inside a church? Ugh.

After leaving the cathedral and the flag behind, I made my way to Central Park where I found another ice rink. This time I was determined to let my feet do the talking and before I could doubt the wisdom of my thinking I paid $13 and made my way on to the ice.

And it was all okay. The world didn't melt, Michael Jackson didn't turn black again. Skyscrapers didn't fall. I didn't even get laughed at. And I didn't fall over once!

True, I went went round slower than almost everybody else and I did knock a few kids over, but I didn't fall over once!

It turned out to be one of the most enjoyable times I've had during the past 16 days and it was quite magical, skating in Central Park at night, surrounded by skyscrapers. Quite magical.

And that was my first night in New York City. After stopping by Grand Central Station and New York Public Library, I returned to my hostel and was soon sleeping soundly in the city that never sleeps.

Earlier today I took a short helicopter flight around Manhattan. It was fun, a little scarier than I imagined, almost like floating.

Afterwards I made my way to the site where the World Trade Center stood. It was a sombre moment, standing in the spot where, two and a half years ago, nearly three thousand people lost their lives.

September 11th was a chance for America to change. Unfortunately, under the leadership of George W. Bush, America was transformed that day into something awful.

Monsters created more of a monster. And now, sadly, because of this Government's appalling foreign policy, what happened on September 11th was just a taster of what is to come.

After leaving Ground Zero I took a ramble down Wall Street and soon found that Battery Park and the ferry terminal to Liberty Island were nearby. I couldn't resist going to see the Tall Lady so I paid my ten bucks and headed out to see the french visitor.

And she was kinda small...!

After the Statue of Liberty I made my way here to Times Square - and boy what a sight to behold. Piccadilly Circus eat your heart out! I think that the first time you see Times Square you are either amazed or appalled. Or, like me, both.

Times Square is a mesmerising combination of skyscrapers, advertisements, flashing lights, TV screens, crowds of people and yellow taxi cabs. It's hypnotising, impressive - and probably quite evil!

A few hours ago I was standing in Times Square, wearing my Versace coat and taking photographs with my mobile phone, when a photographer doing a photo shoot started taking photos of me! Really!

A child of capitalism in the capital of capitalism.

And that's just about it for New York City.

I leave this great city behind tomorrow afternoon and board a flight that will take me to Detroit. Hopefully I'll be able to squeeze in a quick visit to the American Museum of Natural History before I leave. I also want to visit the Bronx.

But for this entry, and for this night, this is an Englishman in New York signing off and wishing you well. It's after eleven and I'm miles away from home.

I'll write to you again from Michigan.

Until then, take care.

New York, New York.

From the memory box of a Professional Englishman.

These Crows Feet Run Deeper

Howdy.

How are you?

I'm writing this a day after the dawn of the new year. How was yours, by the way? Mine was okay, but I don't really think that the coming of a new year is a cause for celebration.

I hate to sound like a pessimist, but this will be another year in which humanity gets it wrong again. A year of war and madness, tragedy and sorrow.

This will be a year when people will be blown to bits in Iraq and Israel. A year when innocent children will die in poverty. A year when all of us reading this entry will get a little older and become a little more cynical. And a year when the crows feet around these blue eyes will run just a little deeper...

No, the coming of a new year should only be celebrated if people are prepared to change and are ready to try to make the world a better place. But people aren't, so now things can only get worse.

I've recently found myself thinking about the days that made up the last 12 months of my life. If I close my eyes, I can almost relive those days.

I remember the sounds and sights of a city called York. I remember the smiles and laughter of people who came to be very dear to me. People like Urko, Cesar, Kimberley and Chris.

Now I'm faced with the bitter realisation that those people are out of my life and all that remains are these crystal clear memories, which are kept ever close to my heart, and which often threaten to overwhelm me with their sweetness.

I have a wonderful memory of a bike ride Urko and I took together through the Yorkshire countryside in July of 2002. I know that I've written about this before, but it was such a perfect day. It was beautiful, sunny weather and we just got on our bikes and rode together across fields of corn and through little villages.

We found a remote farm along the way and stopped off to pick some strawberries. Later we joined Cesar - another wonderful man, from Mexico, whom I miss dearly - and we all had a meal together. It was very nice and one of my personal highlights of the year.

However, not all of last year's happy memories came from York. In April I visited Brussels to spend time with a girl called Patricia Leduc.

I met Patricia in York and we spent a very nice week together. We got on very well and I felt very comfortable with her. And I was quite attracted to her. In fact, I was thrown out of a youth hostel in York because I was caught in the shower with her. This little incident increased my male friends respect for me no end! Ha ha! Yeah, baby!

In April, Patricia left York and I missed her very much. I arranged to go and see her in Brussels but, sadly, our relationship totally fell apart within an hour of my arrival in Belgium's capital city.

Patricia didn't know that I had come just to see her - she just thought I was visiting Brussels anyway - and this made things uncomfortable between us. It all ended with her telling me that I was a 'victim' and she didn't like me or my appearance.

I was upset about that for a day or two. Then I got over it and spent some very nice days in Brussels. I didn't meet anybody, but I did travel around the city and I saw some nice places and it gave me a great deal of time to think. I thought like I had never thought before: About life, God, death, everything. It was very spiritual!

In the same month my aunt Annette died after a long battle with breast cancer. It was a difficult time for her family and my heart goes out to them and to my Mother, who still misses her sister.

In June my dear friend Maxim also passed away. Maxim was a little boy I knew who lived in Minsk in Belarus. He was terminally-ill; he suffered from a muscle-wasting disease called muscular dystrophy.

Maxim's death came as a great shock to me. In September of 2002 I returned to Belarus and spent both a pleasant and sad evening with Maxim's parents, Sasha and Lena, who are two of the strongest and most welcoming people I have met.

Maxim's memory will continue to live on amongst everyone who knew and loved him. He inspired me and I shall never forget him.

In September I left York and went travelling across Eastern Europe. I went to Hungary - which was great - and Romania - which was not - and then briefly to Poland and then to Belarus.

I sampled frogs legs for the first time in Romania and had some adventures with pornography (see a previous entry) but didn't really enjoy my time there. I got the impression that everybody I met just wanted something from me, and so I left with quite a negative view of the Romanian people.

Hungary was different, however. And that was partly due to a wonderful little hostel called the Museum Guest House. I remember having a wonderful massage there. And I went caving in the bowels of Budapest, which was simply stupendous!

And those were some of the main events of my life in 2002. I don't know what 2003 holds in store for me or for any of us on this planet. But one thing I do know is that, sadly, the future is not bright.

I don't mean to depress you (though I will) but the truth is that there is little hope left for humanity now. It's only a matter of time until terrorists acquire some sort of dirty nuclear bomb and when they do, all hell will be let loose.

I guess all we can do is try to make the most of the time we have left. It's still a beautiful world, despite the actions of America, Israel and my own country, and things have not come to a head just yet.

So enjoy your life, travel, widen your horizons and cherish each and every day.

Wrap up warm and be careful when you take the Christmas decorations down.

Take care.

Skyler Black.

A Bolivian Girl in Budapest

You know, travelling is a lonely business.

Sure, sometimes you have great times and you meet great people.

But unless you're travelling with a friend, you can often end up wandering the streets of new cities by yourself and you can't help but feel a little lonely and a little lost.

And then somebody comes along who makes you realise how just amazing travelling really is...

Hi. It's me again.

I'm writing to you from my favourite little hostel in the world, the Museum Guest House in Budapest, where Pixie is still politely laughing at my jokes and Monica is still asking if I want a massage.

I've been back in Budapest for two days now after catching a train from Cluj-Napoca in Transylvania. My last hour in Cluj was a disaster. Awful! I cringe as I write about it. Let me explain...

You might remember from my last blog entry that I went to Romania to take part in a voluntary project. After the project was cancelled and the volunteers left, the head of the hosting organisation said that I could spend the week staying in his office.

I had a bed to sleep in and I also had full use of the office computer. When I wasn't in an Internet cafe until the early hours, I would use the office computer to chat to people on the local chat site.

Anyway. It was my last hour in Cluj and I was bored, so I decided to look at some pornography on the computer of my organisation.

I don't often look at pornography, but I'm male and in my twenties, so I think looking at pictures of naked women is my God-given right!

So, I was looking at various sites and various girls and then, suddenly, lots of little windows started to appear and as quickly as I closed one, another one appeared. Before I knew it, the computer was full of these little windows and I couldn't get rid of them!

Somehow I had managed to overload the computer of a voluntary organisation in Romania with pornography. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shift it. I tried turning the computer on and off. Deleting files. Everything. And it gets worse!

In trying to delete these windows, I managed, somehow, to add about twenty or so internet porn sites to the list of favourites for the organisation. And then, worse than that, I also managed to change the home page to a porn site too! Oh! My! God!

How I did that I don't know. They just came out of nowhere. And some of them had some REALLY awful names. I dread to think about what was on them.

So I was sitting at the computer, horrified, feeling numb, looking at a photo of a woman sticking a cucumber where the sun don't shine, when Adrian, the head of the organisation, walked in. Before he had a chance to look at the screen, I clicked a window and got to the Yahoo site, where I pretended to write an email.

He sat next to me (this was at five o'clock in the morning - a few hours earlier we had been at a nightclub together) and waited for me to finish so he could check his emails. I sat there, writing this email to no-one, hoping he would fall asleep.

Eventually he did and I slipped quietly out of the office and made a rush for a train that would take me to Budapest. I left a note for Adrian, offering my sincere apologies, and as yet I haven't heard anything back. I'm not sure if this is a good sign...

And that was my final, disastrous hour in Cluj-Napoca. The two days I have spent in Budapest since then have been much better. No misadventures with pornography!

Yesterday I explored a huge cave network under Budapest. There was about twenty of us, travellers from all over the world. We spent about 3 hours squeezing through the smallest gaps imaginable!

There was one in particular - appropriately called "the sandwich" - where you couldn't even move your head as you tried to squeeze through. It was insane - but great!

After exploring the caves I went to the cinema and watched The Sum of all Fears. It was crap. I fell asleep. At one point in the film a nuclear device is detonated in the US (a premonition) and this woke me up. I saw cars flying towards me and for a brief moment forgot I was at the cinema. That was scary! But the film was still crap.

But I think that, out of all of the memories I take home with me from Budapest, there is one memory that will stand out in years to come. And that one, single memory is a couple of hours I spent with a beautiful American-Bolivian girl named Teresa. We both arrived in Budapest from Cluj-Napoca on the same day but on different trains.

We were both tired and Teresa had to catch another train the next morning at 7am. And yet, despite this, we ended up walking the streets of Budapest together until five o'clock in the morning.

I think Teresa just wanted to see Budapest because she was only here for one day. But as for me...I just wanted to spend time with her. I knew I would never see her again. We were just ships passing in the night, travellers heading to different destinations.

And yet...already I find myself missing her. I don't often connect with people but when I do it's something wonderful. I told Teresa that travelling is not so much about seeing new places and trying new things, it's more about meeting people, and this is true.

The days I spent in Cluj-Napoca were not memorable because I never met anyone who really touched my heart. And yet Teresa, without knowing it, has managed to do that and in doing so she has made these days in Budapest special and unique.

I will remember this time in Hungary. I will remember the caves, the Museum Guest House and the capital. But, more than anything, I will remember a sweet Bolivian girl called Teresa.

She passed through my life in a heartbeat and yet she has left an impression that will last for a lifetime...

And now it is time for this Wandering Englishman to say goodbye. Belarus awaits. My train to Minsk leaves in just a few short hours.

Remember to wrap up warm and stay well.

So, goodbye my friends, goodbye Budapest.

And goodbye Teresa.

Love always.

From the memory box of a Professional Englishman.

PS May 2008: I never did hear from Teresa again. She returned to the US and quickly forgot about her travels and the friends she had made. I will never forget her though, and this blog entry will always serve as a reminder of that sweet night we spent together six years ago, when I was younger and the world was younger, too.