Week Two - The house search

So I met our Estate agent this week- otherwise known as our Broker in these here parts.
Lovey spry blonde woman, my first native that I've had contact with.. in the first ten minutes I learn that she also is looking to move into Manhattan - upper west side infact- which is where we were looking, and she needed a three bedroom, this was because she was divorcing her husband and taking her two daughters with her.
She apologises for getting personal, then proceeds to tell me that she's met someone else who also happens to live on the upper west side and that she isn't quite divorced yet, and 'Oh that probably seems really bad to you' then continues with what a great time she had with her husband, but they argue too much and besides this new guy is so connected to her, oh and they're celebrating their one year anniversary this weekend, going to a spa, her husband can look after the girls...She tells me she wont be available at the weekend due to her trip...but later changes that to my boyfriend to say she has another client...
I still have my English politeness on, the way you are when you first meet someone you hardly know- smiles and nods and the idea that people here are not at all worried to share their personal lives, even on a mobile (cell phone) conversation in the middle of the street.
She puts me through my paces. She is 10 years my senior and she can walk up those brown stones as if it were a breeze, I am puffing and panting my way up the numerous staircases and catching my breath as we look into yet another flat/apartment which has little room to swing a rat, nevermind cat.

She shows me 10 more the same. I start to doubt if she knows the area at all, we double back many blocks many times.. I am exhausted and she hasn't even stopped for a drink. I need to.
So we have a short stop for a drink and she wants to do more. I have taken photo's of all these apartments but now think I am not sure where one starts and another ends.

She finally conceeds to pick this up again tomorrow and I come back to fall asleep on the temp apartment couch and totally oversleep meeting the boyfriend. With only UK mobiles/cells I begin to panic that he is waiting and it will cost me a fortune to tell him I just woke up...

Week Three the Cuban contingent

Well, for the main part of this week I have been in Miami, doing some errands for the flat there and picking up stuff, whilst also having a fellow journo stay, which was great as we talked incessantly about everything and nothing and connected.
On the way over I was accosted by this lovely 70 year old Cuban man, sat next to me on the plane because his seat was broken, who told me my country had let 'the enemy in' and that we needed to 'kill them all, before they come kill you in your sleep' he was referring to the Iranians, Pakistani's and Afghanistan people that reside in the UK- I know because he said so, very loudly, as if announcement to the entire plane. That he hates Labour because they had socialist policies and he knew all about that from the good ol Fidel Castro. Clearly he thought it was the same thing. Although not sure if Tony Blair or Gordon Brown would have been able to carry off the cap.

It was clearly pointless to argue with the old man, and surely he meant well enough- as though giving me advice to take back home next time I popped into number 10, but he was so loud about it all. I tried my hardest to be polite and British, and explain that it wasn't like that over there at all, but that religious tollerance and freedom of faith and worship was something that made us Brits very proud of our country. That perhaps he should get on a plane and visit, see it for himself... surprise, surprise he was having none of it. And then the captain told us that take off was delayed for and hour and we would be sitting on the tarmac.... a woman (lil me) was screaming in my head!
Luckily in the row in front was a 20 year old medical student from NYU who jumped into the conversation, the universe was kind because he was of Cuban origin and had just got back from living in the UK for four months and loved traveling around Europe and loved London. Phew, even though it probably hurt his neck, he twisted and talked to us both, he also said stuff in Spanish, which made the guy next to me less domineering.. still I did the polite thing and smiled even though he'd just slated my country and it's politics to the entire plane.

Back in New York mid week and again taking it easy.. the estate agent, otherwise known as 'Broker' had been replaced and we finally had an apartment, things are looking good.

Hairy adventuring in week one

Okay so hairy expedition this week, deep into the lower east side, looking for some 'drug store' or a chemist type Boot's placey for those of the English persuasion for some ibuprofen for the boyfriend who has become a bit poorly, probably from all the stress of the move and then having to hit the ground running at work.
So, I walk into the depths of this neighbourhood, where people constantly seem to be shouting at each other, but perhaps this is just the charm of New York, I find that what should be a 10 minute run as according to our guide book- provided by the corporate apartment people- turns into 45 minutes. Not only this but I walk into a grotty area, complete with brand new flip flops which start to blister my feet... then pass a gun shop. I only know that this is a gun shop because it brazenly has a three dimensional gun hanging from it's shop front!! I thought you only see this stuff in movies!!
In the window are detailed drawings of exactly where your bullet should aim for a deer for instance, there were probably other animals detailed but I rushed on by, looking for the 'Rite Aid'.
Next I come across a man with a rag strapped to his head with what look like are elastic bands yelling at a rather nicely dressed woman as 'Baby!' When she fails to turn to his attention... she quickly becomes the 'hellish *itch' and he's getting irate.
I am now praying that after walking 200yrds the wrong way or 2 blocks, that I will see this Rite Aid soon, and my feet are begining to hurt.
It occurs to me to ask someone for directions would be insane.
And I muster on following the numbers that will surely lead me to my destination, after all it's in this bloomin corporate guide!
I pass what Americans refer to as 'the projects' we'd probably call them council housing estates in the north, Burnley for example. I adopt my London of keep your head down and look like you know where you're going...my feet are really not liking these flip flops any more and the flip flops start to tear into them...
Right at the edge of turning back, I see this woman and she looks okay, glasses, back pack, and suddenly I'm surrounded by a neighbourhood that feels less busy- but a bit eerie and deserted.
I decide to ask her for directions... but before I have a chance to finish my question.. she has placed her hands in the air, and says in a accent other than American that she has never been here before.. and scurry's past me... now I'm thinking perhaps it's me who looks like the scarey one, but thank heaven I persisted because I see it!!
I buy my ibuprofen and other nic nacks- it's been a long walk!and walk home as though I've really achieved something, really accomplished something...I made it through!! But you can bet I wasn't walking the same way back!
I moved up a block to a street that looked a little more leafy, and to my surprise I was stopped by a woman asking me directions! Wow, been here two weeks and people think I look New Yorker enough to as me directions, I was flatterd, but I'd forgotten my map and of no help.
I felt very wistful for her when I passed the street she was looking for in the opposite direction to the way she was walking.

I finally made my way back up what was now newly known to me as my grotty street, to the park side to hear an exchange between two local men about holding the baby correctly, and the other responding 'you better shut yo mouth'.. at this point it was full immersion to the American or New York psyche, I have yet to find out... but I dont rember experiences quite like this in California...
For the rest of this week, I'm taking it easy....adventure and exploration can wait....

Landed

Well, this is my first blog entry, I've touched down into JFK, and pulled aside by immigration asking why I'm staying so long.. when I told them I may move here with my boyfriend permanently they told me to 'get him to give you a ring!' Bless em.
Now even immigration approve of my potential nuptuials!

So we are in our temporary flat which is nicely if not plainly furnished with a amazing view of the Empire State, the Chrysler and another tall nicely sculpted building of which I have yet to find the name of.
I soon found out that we are staying in the Lower East side, which is full of bars, restaurants and clubs, great to go out in.. not so great to sleep, when you're jet lagged and dealing with 'emotional moving syndrome' the fire trucks, the police cars and ambulances all dutifully come past with their sirens all times of the day and night which seem to be right below the window despite being on the eleventh floor.
But add to this the yellow Taxi's and even the normal cars adding their horns as if it were going out of fashion..let me know... I have arrived in New York...