Well sorry for the minor delays in posting. I have been hoofing around the US recently. It was quite a shock, but there are some really cool things outside of New York City hehehe.

I was well prepared for my jaunt to Salt Lake - I watched Latter Days (mmm Mormon guys can be cute :p ), I hid my clandestine caffeine pills in a vitamin bottle, had my clandestine hip flask of gin slipped into my sock, and wore three wedding rings just in case. Yes, I was vice on legs - gay-coffee-addicted-martini-swilling-religious-piss-taking-new-yorker, yeah baby and it was great. Nothing better than going to a city that for all intents and purposes you simply don’t belong - it makes the challenge so much sweeter.

But joking aside, I have to say Salt Lake is a very beautiful part of the world. I stepped off the plane into snow and snow-capped mountains. Dreamy mountain peaks, uncluttered roads and that thin refreshing mountain air that makes you virtuous instantaneously. Haha and sorry it does have to be said, but apart from not being green, the Mormon Temple IS the Emerald City - I looked out for the muchkins but I suspect they were in one of the untold private clubs drinking martinis and keeping warm.

So this was my surprise - this city loves its food. And everything I ate while I was there outshone the majority of experiences I have had in New York. Service levels in the restaurants were welcoming, attentive and seriously professional. Ok, the wine selection isn’t the highlight, but the food shines. I will post soon on a very special place I went, but will say that I have never been anywhere with a full plasma screen in the dining room showing the chef at work in the kitchens - that was awesome.

I do want to share however a piece of Americana foodie experience - the burger joint. After a late arrival we ended up at a Crown Burger restaurant. Oh my, it the decor and service was a throwback from the 60’s. Brown tiles and everyone early paper caps in the kitchens. The order counter had some english-challenged workers taking orders at a sizable manual cash register. The first surprise was when you had placed the order, they pushed a large microphone on and screamed your order into it - the incontinent would have struggled.

But what came out was a down-to-earth burger with sauces and salads, then piled high with pastrami. Swear to goodness it was the tastiest thing I have had in weeks. I ignored the cholesterol intake and simply relished the amazing flavors.

After that I had the most vivid dreams ever - man alive - nothing better than a pastrami enriched dream (washed down with a little gin from the hip flask).

Categories: Food, Travel
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Certain slippery things are bad – character, substandard lubricant and subway floors. The latter bit my ass last night, it had a film of water on it that resulted in an immediate collision ass-to-ground. I am nursing a sore back in a new found café (Doma), lemon cake and coffee are wonderful substitutes to ibuprofen.

I took my maiden voyage into Brooklyn last night – I was officially in pursuit of the 2nd ugliest orange building in the borough per the directions. I was kindly invited to view a film still being edited. The orange building was quite pretty – though I don’t suppose I have the luxury of knowing the 1st ugliest building in Brooklyn. It was also raining cats and dogs.

My inviter was likely unaware of my obsession for things in progress. I always feel excited and privileged to take part in art, relationships or stories in progress. I was handed pen and paper (along with gorgeous home-cooked Vietnamese meal – dang, thanks guys that was awesome! And Trey for making it all look tidy after!).

It (what do you call in progress, it?, there is more life than that, hmmm) opens with rather raw documentary introduction to a US Vietnamese family. I liked its unpolished nature in scene 1, that’s what meeting new people is like, uncertain, mixed messages, like-dislike. Then right into the Vietnam War, how a family was split, learned to survive, harbored resentments and pain. It was raw.

Then it began to move from a documentary to something you could not look away from. Something you belonged to. Relationships in progress, fighting to find meaning and healing, finding a new voice and language to give light to the past. Some of the secrets that emerged were heart-breaking, the desolate loss that lived in some of the hearts. It however was not fatalistic, it was a journey in itself, that was awesome. I left with so many open questions, which I needed to, that was right. It took me further in understanding the meta-narratives I hold dear to: exclusion and embrace, silence and emerging language, shame and healing.

I felt like a peeping tom, sneaking into someone journal, but I also felt part of the bigger story of life, its ever emerging nature, and the futility sometimes in trying to find too much meaning in ideas rather than embracing richness of experience for its own sake.

I don’t think I was overly helpful in giving feedback last night. My only real feedback on reflection sits around identity. Often this form of documentary finds explains identity, the place we stand and are know by, in the land – too often spiritualizing the land to an extent beyond its nature. This documentary however hasn’t given into that so easily. I see the importance of the land, but there is a bigger narrative of identity – its language and relationship. If anything I would like to see that emerge a little more – not a polarized position, but one that holds the real tension of identity between the land and relationships. The latter is enduring.

It was awesome, so hope to get to see the final cut and how it emerges. Thanks for inviting me Doan.

Categories: Food, New York, Reflection, Subway, Travel
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Strange epihany - arriving back in New York held a revelation of homeliness and belonging. It was comforting sitting amongst the dodgey subway crowd of the E train from the airport, to push past tourists blocking the turnstyles, and then to follow with intuition the path to the street corner where you live. It is true that this city holds a strange and silent magnetism. I haven’t been here long enough to name it but it is very real.

Dang the red curry I am eatting in some purple restaurant in Chelsea is fine. Man I miss nice Thai food, hot - spicy - exotic - gets the mind working overtime. Haven’t a clue what this place is called - but the boi assures me that Thai Red Bull (plus vodka - just for good measure - its Saturday afternoon people and I’m sitting here alone so completely justifiable) is much stronger than the German variety that gives you Vvings. I must confess my head is really spinning right now - the caffeine hit was intense - dang that means I will start talking indiscriminately now.

Hope that doesn’t get me into too much trouble this afternoon. (Ok - I have just seen the bill - the place is called Room Service - 166 8th Ave - nice curry - nice red bull).

Categories: Food, Travel
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Destined for a happy little work jaunt to Greensboro (NC) and Ft Lauderdale, I head off like a happy camper, bright and early, to La Guardia airport. I am beginning to learn in this city that you never believe estimated travelling times on any form of transport. The trip through the backstreets of Little Italy, while entertaining to be following a catholic parade of a saint through the streets, meant it took two hours to get to the airport. I was thankful that Mary did not manifest herself in the crowd, I am sure this would have delayed things further.

The flights were delayed (no! really?!). The Customer Service chickie must have been related to my United Airlines friend … graduates of the School of Bitchiness. The PA systen initially amused me. Three conflicting and competing announcements at once. I understood nothing, but realised they were having problems boarding 5 aircraft at the same gate at the same time. The departure board blew up while I stood there. Chickie actually told a customer to “Piss Off”.

Greensboro airport - I kid you not, they have white wooden rocking chairs throughout the terminal - I looked for the square dancers, alas I found none. I will give Greensboro its dues, this is one fair dinkem friendly town (well they didnt know I was gay, this may have changed the blueberry pie smiles). Seriously, everyone was so friendly it wasnt funny. The taxi-driver was friendly, the hotel-staff were friendly, the shuttle driver was friendly (oh gosh and oh so cute - hmmmm I really shouldnt go down the track of chasing Southern Bois, it would just end in tears), the ticketing agent at the airport was friendly (even when my transfer flight to Charlotte was delayed 3 hours). I did have a great food experience … but thats another story.
The flight to Ft Lauderdale … gay-boi overhead prior to takeoff “Oh sweetie, I would rather chop my left ball off than stay in this Charlotte overnight”. He smiled a lot … my Southern fetish has passed, Florida bois are cute … oh la la.

Now Ft Lauderdale, well, the antithesis of Greensboro - I asked directions 3 times and each time people looked at me and ignored my request. This is one unfriendly town. I mean New York is friendly, so why isn’t Gay Central friendly … go figure. Must say I pined a little when I flew over the beach … reminded me of New Zealand (eeek I hope thats not homesickness already - maybe its the Prozac withdrawal).

So one more day of work to go and back in New York for the weekend. Which then means it only 6 days until I move into my apartment on September 1. I really need to get furniture issue sorted LOL. No really, I found more good stuff last week, but I really have to get it ordered. I know I will be floor sleeping for a bit.

Categories: Travel
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