New York, New York?
- Thread starter Robert
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for those who have not traveled to beautiful NY, here is a few images of parks found in the City That Never Sleeps.
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here's my tale...
A special thank you to cecilia for taking the time and considerable effort to meet up with me and show me around.
This is my New York Story:
Dae Jaun:
A journey of initial coincidences.
I boarded the New York train at Oakville, Ontario and it was already reasonably busy. I found my way to what appeared to be the only empty double seat in the carriage but with a suitcase taking up some of the space near the window.
I took the aisle seat and the guard arrived to tell me a lady was sitting at the window already, presumably the owner of the luggage.
Said lady soon came back from the buffet car, carrying a tray of food. From her accent, it was clear she was from the London (England, as opposed to Ontario) area. I thought it a bit of a coincidence that I'd be sitting next to another Briton, given that everyone else seemed to be either Canadian or American. I then discovered she was going to NYC for three nights, same as me. On top of all this, she then pulled out an Apple G4 laptop (powerBook). I'm writing this on an Apple G4 laptop (iBook).
I may well be sitting next to her on the return journey, as we're booked on the same train back too. Weird, eh? Well, I thought so. Her name was Racheal and she didn't appear to find any of these coincidences remotely interesting. And funnily enough, they stopped right there. As Racheal had the window seat, I didn't have a great view of the North American scenery as it whipped by. This was a shame, as I would discover on the way back.
Afternoon sunlight, strobing through the trees as we travel and landing intermittently on the very same page where John Lydon was telling me that afternoon sunlight, strobing through the trees as he travels gives him seizures. I'm not epileptic but when the strobing sunlight is falling directly on a page that you are trying to read, it can make the job more difficult.
Another coincidence, I know, but one not involving the bold Racheal who was now doing her best to politely ignore me.
Last train to Bam-central.
This train is constantly blaring it's horn. Very reminiscent of KLF's Chill Out album; "All the way down the East coast. Come back fat as a rat!" Well, I only travelled a little of the East coast and, if anything, I'll come back even skinnier than when I left.
I finished my book, Rotten. Fortunately it wasn't anywhere near as bad as the title might imply. Thirteen hors after setting off we pulled into Pennsylvania Station, which is right at Madison Square Garden, only 25 minutes behind schedule. I gave Racheal's hand a brief shake as I hurried off the train, wishing her a pleasant trip.
I decided to take the subway, rather than a cab to Harlem. I sent Cecilia a text message about the subway and was told it isn't really scary, despite the worries of my Canadian friends ringing in my ears. I thought I'd risk it - nothing ventured and all that.
I had some issues with my Amex card and had to buy my seven day Metro pass with cash. I initially jumped on the wrong train, the 'E' line. As soon as the doors closed, I realised my mistake and jumped straight back off at the next station, 42nd Street. I didn't have long to wait before a 'C' train arrived, heading uptown. Twenty minutes later I alighted at 110th Street. It was only a five minute walk from there, in a fairly straightforward route to the Wanderers Hostel.
My first impression of the hostel is that it's a nice enough place. There seem to be several people staying here from various parts of the planet's surface. I'm sharing a dormitory with seven other men, two of whom were already in their scratchers when I dropped in to suss out the locker and bed situation. I'm not sure where they were from but I couldn't understand what they were saying. Sounded vaguely Chinese but, as my Cantonese never got beyond 'thank you,' I couldn't be sure. I have the top bunk which squeaks a bit just leaning stuff on it. I've yet to attempt mounting the thing. That should prove interesting given my aging limbs. I'm sitting in the hostel common area just now, typing this. There isn't a free wi-fi connection and the ones that do show up I have no idea who they belong to. On the bright side, it means I can type this without distractions.
Having said that, I just got into a discussion with Julian, Lilly (both from California) and Magda (Polish) about traveling. Julian and Magda seem to have been just about everywhere. The consensus seems to be that two days isn't enough time to see this city but it's all I can spare. I'll just have to cram as much in as I can.
I'm not sure what the plan is for tomorrow, other than I'm going to try to hook up with cecilia and maybe take in some sights.
Day two:
Well, that was absolutely brutal. I think I'll stump up the readies to keep my own company next time I do something like this.
I left Magda in the common area about half twelve and went up to bed. When I got into the dormitory there was someone asleep in every bunk except mine. The first thing that struck me was that the ridiculously dazzling light was still on, yet they all seemed to be out for the count. This suited me fine as I had to put some of my stuff away in the locker. Cue lots of clattering about trying to get my rucksack to fit into the tight space.
With that eventually done I then had to decide what method to employ in order to propel myself up to the bunk above one of the sleeping dudes.
I've never done this dormitory malarky before and am unsure of the etiquette. Did they leave the light on because they knew someone still had to get into their kip?
Before switching off the light, I spotted a steel ladder dangling at the side of my bunk. Using this looked decidedly dodgy in terms of both the likely racket and potential injury to either myself or sleepy-hied. I spotted an empty, foot-sized bit of mattress next to his barnet and decided that would be the ideal spot to plant my foot and spring skywards. Bear in mind I hadn't yet attempted this in light conditions and with an empty bed to stand on.
Off goes the light, down goes the foot and up and into the bed go I, without so much as a stir from the gentleman below.
It was only after I arranged my scabby blanket and was feeling rather smug with myself that I became aware of the absurdly loud snoring coming from across the room. I tried to ignore it but it was no use and I didn't even know which of the buggers it was spouting from. The only recourse I could think of was listening to some radio, which meant getting up again. I eased myself over the edge of the bed and landed safely on the floor. I managed to retrieve my 'phone and earphones from the locker with a minimum of fuss and sprung back bedwards again.
Only this time there was a slight difference - the feeling underfoot was distinctly nose-like. I hadn't quite planted my foot squarely on the mattress so much as squarely on underbunkem's face! He sat bolt upright, mumbling incoherent, foreign oaths. I toyed with the idea of apologising before it struck me that he'd absolutely no idea what had happened as he lay down and went straight back to sleep .
I then had an initially fruitless search for something inoffensive that I might fall asleep listening to. My 'phone picked up twelve radio stations, eleven of which seemed to be playing either cheezy rock or that unmitigated pish that masquerades as R&B. I eventually found an ambient channel - something to do with echoes.org - which was playing some really nice stuff. I had to turn it up pretty loud as the grunter was beginning to approach Buchie-like decibels of snorey chaos. Needless to say, I didn't get a wink.
I have all this fun to look forward to again tonight and tomorrow. Whoopee!
Single room next time.
Got up at 8:15am, jumped in the shower and then came downstairs for breakfast. The vultures had beaten me to it and all that was left was half a glass of orange squash and a battered muffin. I scoffed it greedily regardless.
I left just before nine and walked the entire length of central park. It really is a lovely park and the only one I've been in that could compete with it is the one in Varna, Bulgaria.
I trooped on down through Manhattan and had a bit of an aimless wander about, just getting a feel for the city. Over to the station at West 23rd Street. I met up with Cecilia and we walked along to Chelsea Piers. We had a pint of their brewed-on-the-premise beer (not bad) and then walked down the bank of Hudson. Then into Greenwich village which I think is my favourite part of Manhattan.
We had dinner at the Red Lion. I had a grilled steak and chips, along with a pint of the surprisingly tasty Brooklyn Lager. Very nice.
After that, I was escorted to Roosevelt Island to see the skyline at night. Very impressive. Cecilia and I parted company at Roosevelt station and I got back to the hostel around ten.
Day three:
Last night's kipping adventure was a definite improvement on the previous evening on two counts. First of all and most importantly the snorer had either moved out or got himself a Buchie-strip to suck on and the room was much quieter for it. Also, the guy whose coupon I had trod upon the night before had been replaced by a PSV fan from Eindhoven who I had a bit of a natter about the fitbaw with. He's a friendly chap and has been traveling the world on his jack. He took a train from Istanbul to Tehran,for a fortnight then another train onto Pakistan. Hat's off to this punter as he's six foot four if he's an inch and blonde into the bargain. Not exactly the type to blend into the Middle-East so he must have baws of steel.
Speed-tourism.
I think I deserve some sort of honourary mention in the stout records book. I left the hostel at nine this morning and took a brief stroll around Morningside park in Harlem (green), then I got on the subway at West 116th street. I alighted at 42nd Street and had taken in bits of Times Square (neon), Wall Street (imposing), the WTC centre site (under construction), Staten Island (quaint) and was aboard the ferry for the Statue of Liberty, all before noon. As it happened, Liberty Island left me a bit underwhelmed. No entrance to the monument unless you apply several years in advance along with a blood sample, cavity search and signed letter from your Maw.
Nice, big bit of copper, though. I'll give them that.
I didn't bother touring Ellis Island as I was on a pretty tight schedule. Next I headed up towards Lower East Side and walked across the Brooklyn bridge (Saturday Night Fever). Came back across and headed up the Empire State Building (tall). Then I took the tramway cable car (dangly) to Roosevelt Island (quiet). Got the tube back to the Rockefeller building (very tall) but didn't bother going up. Walked up Eighth Avenue, took in another wee bit of Central park (green with water) before I jumped on a tube back to Harlem. I got back just before six. One thing I couldn't seem to escape today was that downtown smelt faintly of stale shite (pongy). I've no idea why or if this is a common occurrence.
On the way back to the hostel, I heard one of the local youngsters outside say to his friend, "But this nigga, Jason, right? This nigga got three bitches, ah'm not kiddin'. Three goddam bitches! You hearin' me, nigga?" I think Harlem is starting to grow on me.
On-the-house, take-out pizza in the Hostel tonight and I hope it wasn't representative of the famous New York pizza as it was completely unremarkable and somewhat bland.
It's half-nine on my last night and I have fifty-five American dollars to get rid of so I'm going out for a wee swally!
Day four:
Harlem by night.
I read in the local Metro paper than Joan as Police Woman was playing a gig at Bowery Ballroom, in the Chinatown area. Having some spare dough and nothing better to do, I decided to see if I could find the place and, after a bit of aimless wandering about, eventually did.
Alas, oor Joan wiznae oan.
A band called The Kicks (I think) were playing and I didn't fancy paying $15 to see them, given that they weren't coming on till 11p.m. and I had no idea who they were.
What to do?
I decided to wander up towards East Village. I stopped for a light ale in a bar called Slainte. The only reason I did this was because I spotted fitbaw on the telly. Turned out to be a live Columbian match and it reached half time five minutes after I sat down. So I decided to finish my pint and keep walking, this time Westwards. I ended up going into a pub called Woodys. They sold a wheat beer called Bluemoon that I enjoyed so much I had three pints of it, washed down with a cheeky, wee Bourbon. I was having so much fun I barely minded the karaoke session and ended up a slightly inebriated for the one and only time in New York. Worth a mention is an Afro-Carribean gentleman in a business suit performing a hip-hop song with considerable aplomb. I heartily applauded his efforts with gusto.
On the flip side, everybody else singing was shite.
It was getting towards the witching hour so I decided to head for the subway at W14th st. The hostel is between W110th and W116th stations on the C line. I waited for a while as several A trains passed with no sign of a C train. The A train stops at W125th. This is a tad further into Harlem than I'd been before. Half twelve at night and half canned didn't strike me as the optimum circumstances for my first visit but I thought I'd better give it a bash and jumped on the next A.
W125th Street station is a bit scabbier than either of the other two Harlem stations I'd frequented. Long, skinny, drab and murky - a bit like me. Or maybe I was just pished and paranoid. Either way I was glad to get upstairs. Until, that is, I found myself confused about my whereabouts. Why did I not consult a street map before heading there? Good question.
There were lots of people about on the streets which I found a bit odd for this time of night as there didn't seem to be much in the way of bars or clubs, . As I made my way South I noticed a bit of shouty-arguing between a group of around half a dozen men and women across the road. I looked over and immediately caught someone's attention. He tried to engage me in some light-hearted, jocular banter with an enquiry along the lines of, "What you lookin' at, white boy?" To say I shat it would be an exercise in extreme understatement. I turned away and hurried my walk up a bit. Thankfully my questioner returned to his original discussion and let me go on my way unhindered.
I was now warily eyeing every guy I passed in the street and was delighted when I made it back to the Hostel, about 1a.m. Turns out the route was pretty straightforward and I guessed correctly.
Folk were coming and going from the dorm all night and I think I managed about three hours sleep before getting up again at six. I subwayed it to Penn. Station and said my goodbyes to the city. I've a feeling I'll be back. New York seems like a wonderful city.
And I like cities.
But I also enjoy countryside. I'm currently on the train back to Canada and I can say, without a doubt, that this is the most enjoyable part of the whole excursion.
I have a window seat, you see.
We travelled up the Hudson valley (I think) and some of the scenery is breathtaking. The river flanked by wetland forests and gently rolling hills is a sight to behold. The trees are starting to get their autumn foliage going and there's lots red and amber amongst the green.
Absolutely lovely.
A special thank you to cecilia for taking the time and considerable effort to meet up with me and show me around.
This is my New York Story:
Dae Jaun:
A journey of initial coincidences.
I boarded the New York train at Oakville, Ontario and it was already reasonably busy. I found my way to what appeared to be the only empty double seat in the carriage but with a suitcase taking up some of the space near the window.
I took the aisle seat and the guard arrived to tell me a lady was sitting at the window already, presumably the owner of the luggage.
Said lady soon came back from the buffet car, carrying a tray of food. From her accent, it was clear she was from the London (England, as opposed to Ontario) area. I thought it a bit of a coincidence that I'd be sitting next to another Briton, given that everyone else seemed to be either Canadian or American. I then discovered she was going to NYC for three nights, same as me. On top of all this, she then pulled out an Apple G4 laptop (powerBook). I'm writing this on an Apple G4 laptop (iBook).
I may well be sitting next to her on the return journey, as we're booked on the same train back too. Weird, eh? Well, I thought so. Her name was Racheal and she didn't appear to find any of these coincidences remotely interesting. And funnily enough, they stopped right there. As Racheal had the window seat, I didn't have a great view of the North American scenery as it whipped by. This was a shame, as I would discover on the way back.
Afternoon sunlight, strobing through the trees as we travel and landing intermittently on the very same page where John Lydon was telling me that afternoon sunlight, strobing through the trees as he travels gives him seizures. I'm not epileptic but when the strobing sunlight is falling directly on a page that you are trying to read, it can make the job more difficult.
Another coincidence, I know, but one not involving the bold Racheal who was now doing her best to politely ignore me.
Last train to Bam-central.
This train is constantly blaring it's horn. Very reminiscent of KLF's Chill Out album; "All the way down the East coast. Come back fat as a rat!" Well, I only travelled a little of the East coast and, if anything, I'll come back even skinnier than when I left.
I finished my book, Rotten. Fortunately it wasn't anywhere near as bad as the title might imply. Thirteen hors after setting off we pulled into Pennsylvania Station, which is right at Madison Square Garden, only 25 minutes behind schedule. I gave Racheal's hand a brief shake as I hurried off the train, wishing her a pleasant trip.
I decided to take the subway, rather than a cab to Harlem. I sent Cecilia a text message about the subway and was told it isn't really scary, despite the worries of my Canadian friends ringing in my ears. I thought I'd risk it - nothing ventured and all that.
I had some issues with my Amex card and had to buy my seven day Metro pass with cash. I initially jumped on the wrong train, the 'E' line. As soon as the doors closed, I realised my mistake and jumped straight back off at the next station, 42nd Street. I didn't have long to wait before a 'C' train arrived, heading uptown. Twenty minutes later I alighted at 110th Street. It was only a five minute walk from there, in a fairly straightforward route to the Wanderers Hostel.
My first impression of the hostel is that it's a nice enough place. There seem to be several people staying here from various parts of the planet's surface. I'm sharing a dormitory with seven other men, two of whom were already in their scratchers when I dropped in to suss out the locker and bed situation. I'm not sure where they were from but I couldn't understand what they were saying. Sounded vaguely Chinese but, as my Cantonese never got beyond 'thank you,' I couldn't be sure. I have the top bunk which squeaks a bit just leaning stuff on it. I've yet to attempt mounting the thing. That should prove interesting given my aging limbs. I'm sitting in the hostel common area just now, typing this. There isn't a free wi-fi connection and the ones that do show up I have no idea who they belong to. On the bright side, it means I can type this without distractions.
Having said that, I just got into a discussion with Julian, Lilly (both from California) and Magda (Polish) about traveling. Julian and Magda seem to have been just about everywhere. The consensus seems to be that two days isn't enough time to see this city but it's all I can spare. I'll just have to cram as much in as I can.
I'm not sure what the plan is for tomorrow, other than I'm going to try to hook up with cecilia and maybe take in some sights.
Day two:
Well, that was absolutely brutal. I think I'll stump up the readies to keep my own company next time I do something like this.
I left Magda in the common area about half twelve and went up to bed. When I got into the dormitory there was someone asleep in every bunk except mine. The first thing that struck me was that the ridiculously dazzling light was still on, yet they all seemed to be out for the count. This suited me fine as I had to put some of my stuff away in the locker. Cue lots of clattering about trying to get my rucksack to fit into the tight space.
With that eventually done I then had to decide what method to employ in order to propel myself up to the bunk above one of the sleeping dudes.
I've never done this dormitory malarky before and am unsure of the etiquette. Did they leave the light on because they knew someone still had to get into their kip?
Before switching off the light, I spotted a steel ladder dangling at the side of my bunk. Using this looked decidedly dodgy in terms of both the likely racket and potential injury to either myself or sleepy-hied. I spotted an empty, foot-sized bit of mattress next to his barnet and decided that would be the ideal spot to plant my foot and spring skywards. Bear in mind I hadn't yet attempted this in light conditions and with an empty bed to stand on.
Off goes the light, down goes the foot and up and into the bed go I, without so much as a stir from the gentleman below.
It was only after I arranged my scabby blanket and was feeling rather smug with myself that I became aware of the absurdly loud snoring coming from across the room. I tried to ignore it but it was no use and I didn't even know which of the buggers it was spouting from. The only recourse I could think of was listening to some radio, which meant getting up again. I eased myself over the edge of the bed and landed safely on the floor. I managed to retrieve my 'phone and earphones from the locker with a minimum of fuss and sprung back bedwards again.
Only this time there was a slight difference - the feeling underfoot was distinctly nose-like. I hadn't quite planted my foot squarely on the mattress so much as squarely on underbunkem's face! He sat bolt upright, mumbling incoherent, foreign oaths. I toyed with the idea of apologising before it struck me that he'd absolutely no idea what had happened as he lay down and went straight back to sleep .
I then had an initially fruitless search for something inoffensive that I might fall asleep listening to. My 'phone picked up twelve radio stations, eleven of which seemed to be playing either cheezy rock or that unmitigated pish that masquerades as R&B. I eventually found an ambient channel - something to do with echoes.org - which was playing some really nice stuff. I had to turn it up pretty loud as the grunter was beginning to approach Buchie-like decibels of snorey chaos. Needless to say, I didn't get a wink.
I have all this fun to look forward to again tonight and tomorrow. Whoopee!
Single room next time.
Got up at 8:15am, jumped in the shower and then came downstairs for breakfast. The vultures had beaten me to it and all that was left was half a glass of orange squash and a battered muffin. I scoffed it greedily regardless.
I left just before nine and walked the entire length of central park. It really is a lovely park and the only one I've been in that could compete with it is the one in Varna, Bulgaria.
I trooped on down through Manhattan and had a bit of an aimless wander about, just getting a feel for the city. Over to the station at West 23rd Street. I met up with Cecilia and we walked along to Chelsea Piers. We had a pint of their brewed-on-the-premise beer (not bad) and then walked down the bank of Hudson. Then into Greenwich village which I think is my favourite part of Manhattan.
We had dinner at the Red Lion. I had a grilled steak and chips, along with a pint of the surprisingly tasty Brooklyn Lager. Very nice.
After that, I was escorted to Roosevelt Island to see the skyline at night. Very impressive. Cecilia and I parted company at Roosevelt station and I got back to the hostel around ten.
Day three:
Last night's kipping adventure was a definite improvement on the previous evening on two counts. First of all and most importantly the snorer had either moved out or got himself a Buchie-strip to suck on and the room was much quieter for it. Also, the guy whose coupon I had trod upon the night before had been replaced by a PSV fan from Eindhoven who I had a bit of a natter about the fitbaw with. He's a friendly chap and has been traveling the world on his jack. He took a train from Istanbul to Tehran,for a fortnight then another train onto Pakistan. Hat's off to this punter as he's six foot four if he's an inch and blonde into the bargain. Not exactly the type to blend into the Middle-East so he must have baws of steel.
Speed-tourism.
I think I deserve some sort of honourary mention in the stout records book. I left the hostel at nine this morning and took a brief stroll around Morningside park in Harlem (green), then I got on the subway at West 116th street. I alighted at 42nd Street and had taken in bits of Times Square (neon), Wall Street (imposing), the WTC centre site (under construction), Staten Island (quaint) and was aboard the ferry for the Statue of Liberty, all before noon. As it happened, Liberty Island left me a bit underwhelmed. No entrance to the monument unless you apply several years in advance along with a blood sample, cavity search and signed letter from your Maw.
Nice, big bit of copper, though. I'll give them that.
I didn't bother touring Ellis Island as I was on a pretty tight schedule. Next I headed up towards Lower East Side and walked across the Brooklyn bridge (Saturday Night Fever). Came back across and headed up the Empire State Building (tall). Then I took the tramway cable car (dangly) to Roosevelt Island (quiet). Got the tube back to the Rockefeller building (very tall) but didn't bother going up. Walked up Eighth Avenue, took in another wee bit of Central park (green with water) before I jumped on a tube back to Harlem. I got back just before six. One thing I couldn't seem to escape today was that downtown smelt faintly of stale shite (pongy). I've no idea why or if this is a common occurrence.
On the way back to the hostel, I heard one of the local youngsters outside say to his friend, "But this nigga, Jason, right? This nigga got three bitches, ah'm not kiddin'. Three goddam bitches! You hearin' me, nigga?" I think Harlem is starting to grow on me.
On-the-house, take-out pizza in the Hostel tonight and I hope it wasn't representative of the famous New York pizza as it was completely unremarkable and somewhat bland.
It's half-nine on my last night and I have fifty-five American dollars to get rid of so I'm going out for a wee swally!
Day four:
Harlem by night.
I read in the local Metro paper than Joan as Police Woman was playing a gig at Bowery Ballroom, in the Chinatown area. Having some spare dough and nothing better to do, I decided to see if I could find the place and, after a bit of aimless wandering about, eventually did.
Alas, oor Joan wiznae oan.
A band called The Kicks (I think) were playing and I didn't fancy paying $15 to see them, given that they weren't coming on till 11p.m. and I had no idea who they were.
What to do?
I decided to wander up towards East Village. I stopped for a light ale in a bar called Slainte. The only reason I did this was because I spotted fitbaw on the telly. Turned out to be a live Columbian match and it reached half time five minutes after I sat down. So I decided to finish my pint and keep walking, this time Westwards. I ended up going into a pub called Woodys. They sold a wheat beer called Bluemoon that I enjoyed so much I had three pints of it, washed down with a cheeky, wee Bourbon. I was having so much fun I barely minded the karaoke session and ended up a slightly inebriated for the one and only time in New York. Worth a mention is an Afro-Carribean gentleman in a business suit performing a hip-hop song with considerable aplomb. I heartily applauded his efforts with gusto.
On the flip side, everybody else singing was shite.
It was getting towards the witching hour so I decided to head for the subway at W14th st. The hostel is between W110th and W116th stations on the C line. I waited for a while as several A trains passed with no sign of a C train. The A train stops at W125th. This is a tad further into Harlem than I'd been before. Half twelve at night and half canned didn't strike me as the optimum circumstances for my first visit but I thought I'd better give it a bash and jumped on the next A.
W125th Street station is a bit scabbier than either of the other two Harlem stations I'd frequented. Long, skinny, drab and murky - a bit like me. Or maybe I was just pished and paranoid. Either way I was glad to get upstairs. Until, that is, I found myself confused about my whereabouts. Why did I not consult a street map before heading there? Good question.
There were lots of people about on the streets which I found a bit odd for this time of night as there didn't seem to be much in the way of bars or clubs, . As I made my way South I noticed a bit of shouty-arguing between a group of around half a dozen men and women across the road. I looked over and immediately caught someone's attention. He tried to engage me in some light-hearted, jocular banter with an enquiry along the lines of, "What you lookin' at, white boy?" To say I shat it would be an exercise in extreme understatement. I turned away and hurried my walk up a bit. Thankfully my questioner returned to his original discussion and let me go on my way unhindered.
I was now warily eyeing every guy I passed in the street and was delighted when I made it back to the Hostel, about 1a.m. Turns out the route was pretty straightforward and I guessed correctly.
Folk were coming and going from the dorm all night and I think I managed about three hours sleep before getting up again at six. I subwayed it to Penn. Station and said my goodbyes to the city. I've a feeling I'll be back. New York seems like a wonderful city.
And I like cities.
But I also enjoy countryside. I'm currently on the train back to Canada and I can say, without a doubt, that this is the most enjoyable part of the whole excursion.
I have a window seat, you see.
We travelled up the Hudson valley (I think) and some of the scenery is breathtaking. The river flanked by wetland forests and gently rolling hills is a sight to behold. The trees are starting to get their autumn foliage going and there's lots red and amber amongst the green.
Absolutely lovely.
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That explains the long silence. You were busy. 
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FluffyMcDeath said:That explains the long silence. You were busy.
Hehehe - yep.
I'm heading back to Scotland tomorrow and will probably slip straight back into my serial-poster role.
Just when you all thought you'd gotten rid of me..........
