When I first met Brooklyn

(It's not snowing again - this is a photo I forgot to include from the first week)

I'm just getting to know Brooklyn, it's been sold to me as the cool alternative to high priced Manhattan where all the younger crowd migrate and artistic communities cluster among the ethnically and culturally alienated. (Hasidic Jews and Hispanic) So far I've noticed some very cool little bars and restaurants, sandwiched between some ghetto dinners and dodgy looking nail emporiums. It feels a bit like Carlton - with many attributes of say...Footscray or Victoria Street.



I've also discovered the great rooftop of our building. You can sneak up there from our kitchen window - up the very New York fire escape. There's a view of the Chrysler building and the empire state. I'm a sucker for rooftops - and since I've got buckly's chance of getting a membership to the Soho club (Sex and the City rooftop pool) then this suit me fine.


Fuck yeah.

Here’s my attempt at making my bedroom nice. The blanket didn't look so porn star on the shelf - but I can dig it. It feels like my dressing gown back home.



And here is me in the kitchen - making my first home cooked meal.



This sign is hanging in my kitchen.



And me with the meal. A meal cooked with very very few cooking utensils, no tea towel – or glass. More shopping needed. I also don’t have a toaster – no toaster? That means no toast. No toast? No no.



the bowl of pasta al la Le Messurier



The empty bowl



and - with no TV for after dinner entertainment - I took photos of myself.



Another bone I've got to pick and chew and spit out - is the American currency design.

Firstly - a $100 note and a $1 dollar note look almost exactly the same. I had like $35 worth of one dollar notes the other day and I thought I was loaded. I thought wrong. And the coins don’t have numbers on them. Jesus. IT'S CURRENCY - The numeric value is a very important piece of information - dare I say more important than the umpteenth patriotic phrase about rights? So I’ve got a work out the value of the coins – especially considering my salary…

(just in case there aren't enough photos of me)


Another foible I've notice bout the yanks is that none of them have kettles that you plug in. They all have the 'on the stove - whistle when it's ready' variety. They annoy me.

Anyway - I've seen some wicked buskers on the subway - there's this one girl who just sings Maddonna songs and sound exactly like her (circa 1985 when she had a higher voice). There is also this really really good group of break dancers - but they must get so grubby cause the subway is dirt on dirt on rat on dirt. Kinda like this (minus the red sparkling spandex suits):



Wish I was home for the Hunter to Hunter pub crawl - and Golden plains - but I'm going to call Kate at the right moment - so be drunk enough to talk to me.

Oy Vey

Nick