Nice is Nice

(Above: On the beach in Nice)

People say Nice is not so nice. I think Nice is like Perth - smaller town, nice weather even in November - (it was a bit chilly in the mornings, but by afternoon, it heated up to around 20C), nice scenery, some good restaurants, but overall..... it's more of a relaxing rather than an exciting town.

(Below: Me & C on the beach)

We scored ourselves a fantastic package which included three nights accommodation inclusive of breakfast, flights, airport transfers and a guided day tour to Monarco and for a humble price of

£210. Fine, we were booked into a hotel whose former interior decorator had a pink fetish (or was blind drunk when s/he order the bathroom fittings in bulk),

but the view from the balconey made up for it.

On our first night, we dined in the Old Town of Nice (as like Perth, nothing's really open on a Sunday evening aside from a few places,) at a restaurant called Le Safari where the owner/manager was overly attentive to us. What I mean by overly attentive is having him hang around our table talking to us throughout dinner, and giving us free food to sample as well as a complimentary champagne cocktail. I think his "I really like China," comment had something to do with it.... Unfortunately, his "I really like China" status also meant that he (surprisingly) knew some functional mandarin, so I couldn't talk in "code" to Cecilia. ("I think he has a thing for China girls," I said in a hoarse whisper. "Can we leave soon...?")

(Above: Old Town Nice)

Why I Really Love Nice
Thanks to our tour guide (who obviously had really good taste in food,) we were recommended to try a small little restaurant called "la Diva" (4 rue de l'Opera - 06300 Nice). OMG. The food there was to DIE for.

(Above: My grilled sea bass, sorbet and chickpea pastry vegetable stack)

It was like Jackson's fusion cuisine but with a French accent and BETTER. Even cuter was that the chef who incidentally owned the restaurant. He would make an appearance during the course of the meal to ask if you everything was to your liking. His plum and french custard tart was just so scrumptious that I really want to fly back to Nice just to eat it again. *sigh* So good was his food that I dragged C to the restaurant again the following night. C. was hiding her face behind the menu when the chef made his appearance laughing and saying something in French. (Probably said something to the extent of, "Oh, it's you again!")

Monaco

First stop was the picturesque Old Town where lies the church where Grace Kelly got married and is also buried - pardon the rhyming here.

(Below: The church of Monaco)

As you can see from the pictures to follow, Monaco is basically a principality for the rich.

(Above: I'd hate to be that school having to replace lost soccer balls into the sea.)

We lunched at L'Aurore (6 et 8, Rue Rincesse Marie-de-Lorraine) and also had Princess Caroline's youngest son also stop in for a bite, (he reminded me of Princess William - ick, so I quickly moved on :p) before heading up to Monte Carlo.

Monte Carlo
For those who are confused, Monte Carlo is in the Principality of Monaco. Sort of like what Dalkeith would be to the city of Perth. The two major attractions are:

The Hotel de Paris

and the Casino. (Obviously.)

I had intended on having a go at one of the black jack tables, however these don't open until much later in the afternoon/evening (we were there around 2pm). Probably a good thing seeing that the minimum bet in the more exclusive part of the casino is around the €50 mark. We did ask one of the staff how to operate one (and I should stress - very complicated looking) poker machine, but his English wasn't the best and we ended up with a erm, souvenir (see below) instead.

He must have thought that we were Japanese and would have liked that kind of crap. (C: "Do you think one of my work colleagues would like something like this to use as a pen holder?")

The guy looked so pleased at himself that we didn't have the heart to leave our plastic cups behind and instead, left this in our hotel room for the cleaners to chuck out (or to take this home to their children to use as stationery holders...).

Friends Met
Aside from two lovely middle aged ladies (who affectionately called themselves "Thelma and Louise",) we pick up another two handsome Frenchmen called Rothchild & Laurent-Perrier...

...and picked up another bottle of Moet each. We made the mistake of declining plastic shopping bags ("Don't bother with the pastic - our hotel's just around the corner anyway," I reasoned to C) and we ended up creating pandemonium on our way back. (Note: if you want French guys coming up to you, guys yelling at you from across the street and truck drivers yelling and honking their horns, just casually walk down the street armed with a champagne bottle in each hand....)

"Be My Pimp"
It's hard to believe, but what are the odds of stumbling across the same (so bad that its so good) ghetto 'ho version of "The Bachelor" while holidaying (first time in Chicago, second in the south of France!). Eh. Come to think of it, probably high seeing that the Americans have proliferated pretty much the entire world television market. Fine, it's not called "Be My Pimp" but it may as well be with the trailer trash ("Stay away from mah man, bitch") girls with peroxide hair and scary fake long claw like fingernails and prize small black man complete with gold fillings, ridiculous plastic clock bling, scepter and fluffy royal purple robe. I swear that the dude hasn't changed since 2006, but then maybe all black guys look the same when they don sunglasses and a fluffy purple robe :p) C. stumbled across the show while I was in the bathroom having a shower. The show was that hilarious that I could hear her howling with laughter over the sound of the running water...

Postscript: As it turns out, it is the same guy and he's actually fathered like 10 kids. That means he would have had to have sex at least 10 times. What's the chances of having 10 girls make the exact same mistake with him....? :O

10 Points for Closetblonde
France, being The Invader's home land is full of space invaders. I spotted on in Old Town Nice

And another in Saint Paul du Vence

which is a small pretty boutique art style village about 40 minutes away from Nice.

Dr Frankenstein Decides to Pursue a Career in Art

The great thing about London is you're never short of an up and coming exhibition of sorts, and even better is the fact that most of them are free. I know that art is extremely subjective, but when I stumbled across this exhibition in the middle of Bricklane one early Sunday afternoon, I just had to ask, "Who on earth would want this in their house?"

I think this goes beyond surrealism into Frankenstein/voodoo...

It also raises the bigger question of, "Are these things likely to come alive in the middle of the night to then strangle me in my sleep?"

I think I was having an off day with art as later that day, while browsing at the Up-Market, I made the biggest boo-boo by pointing a piece of art work and saying, "This is so damn ugly," - with the artist standing right next to me.....

Oops.

Swimming with Sharks

I have officially lived out my childhood fantasy (circa age 13/14 years) by being in the same room as Christian Slater. (Come on, how hot was he in "Heathers" circa 1989 which was almost 20 years ago..... OMG, I'm SO fucking OLD!!!!! Eh. Whateverrr, Heatherrr.....)

Anyway, according to the critics, Christian's face doesn't move (ie: remains "expressionless") throughout the whole play, meaning one of two things:

1) He's a crap actor.
2) He's had botox.

It could be both - but I'm assuming that there is a high probability with no. 2, given his age. Lack of expression - I couldn't tell as I didn't have particularly good seats. (Christian is not cool enough to justify £45 a pop. Had it been Kevin Spacey reviving his role from the movie to theatre, that would have been a different story....)

The Invader Invades London (Again)

Location: Lazarides Gallery, Soho

This guy is somewhat of a genius. It's kinda difficult to tell from the photos so let me explain...... All the "pictures" were built out of Rubix cubes, (aka the 1980's child's new canvas). It was impossible to physically make out most of the pictures until you either took a photo of it using your digital or mobile phone camera. And.... voila! Clever, huh? (Art in it's best form involves its audience interacting with it.) It took me a while to figure out some of them - "Oh so that's why they were playing exerpts from Reservoire Dogs!" (Note that you may have to stand away from your computer to get a clearer view....and you may get some strange looks from other people...)

(Above from top to bottom, left to right: Resevoir dogs out in full, stand off scene between Mr Blonde & Mr Orange, Steady Eddie.)

Obviously an ode to some of our most influential gangsters - both real and fictitious.....

(Above from left to right: ?Robert De Niro in....?, Bonnie & Clyde)


(Above: Al Pacino in "Scarface", Jack Nicholson in "The Shining")

The ones below, I haven't got a clue......

New York, New York!

Unlike the last New York experience (think Harlem, being harrassed on the street, unlicenced taxi with dark tinted windows - tee hee hee, just ask Miss C about it, but hey, we both live to tell the tale;) this was the quintessential New York experience. ALL cliches run true in the Big Apple - the neon lights and billboards of Times Square, the flood of yellow taxis on the street, the hot air coming out of the pavement vents from the subway mixing in with the smells in of overcooked hot dogs/pretzels from street vendors....

I had the luxury of staying at F.'s apartment which was in the middle of Manhattan, Time Square, with the following view to boot.

Note that P. Diddy was great landmark for finding the apartment. (Yes, even for oblivious people like me!)

One thing I had forgotten about America is that Americans cannot understand you unless you speak like an American. I had some initial difficulty getting into F.'s apartment -

Doorman: "You're visiting your friend?"
Me: "No, F."
Doorman: "What was that? A friend?"

And moments later -

Doorman: "It's apartment A you're after?"
Me: "NO, E as in elephant,"
Doorman: "Hahaha..... Sorry, I find it difficult to understand the British accent."
(By that time, I couldn't even be bothered tying to correct him so I let that one slide....)

The Yanks are unable to understand you unless you completely drawl out all your vowels. They have to roll the "rrrrr" in F's name, otherwise if they try to pronounce it correctly, her name becomes "Fun". (And it's a good thing F. is fun, otherwise it would have been plain tongue in cheek, which is something I can't say the Americans excel in either.)

The Most Quintessential NY Experience
Running late for dinner and drinks, I had the doorman at the apartment flag down a yellow cab by wolf whistling and yelling at the top of his voice, "TAXIIII!!!!" - in true New York style. I even had the car door opened and shut for me. A pair of teetering Jimmy Choos would have completed the picture, and then, my heel would probably have got stuck in one of those metal grates, and I would have fallen ungracefully flat on my face.... (And that really wouldn't have been cool....)

(Above from left to right: Me, F.'s friend whose name I cannot remember, F.)

After a year in London, New York seems to be such a more livable, big city. Think cleaner, less people, cheaper and faster public transport, cheaper accommodation, more helpful and friendly people... Everything is all relative....

Celebrities
An actor lives in F.'s apartment - lets call him Mr X. in case I get sued - har har. F. took the lift with him one time and according to her version of events:

F: "He was wearing a 'I love NY' tshirt and was carrying a bottle of champagne and Chinese takeaway. He came into lift with a woman and they got off two floors before me."

Me: "Did he look like what he does on TV?"

F: "Hmm, he's a lot older, smaller and greyer."

Me: "Erm, was the woman he was with hot?"

F: "No, she was old, stocky and kinda disappointing.... Damn, I should have taken a photo. Nobody's going to believe me now!"

Three days later, I saw "groundbreaking" news on the E! channel annoncing Mr X. and his girlfriend were expecting their first child. I noticed that his girlfriend was not of the "old and disappointing" type, so I can only assume that the other woman in the apartment lift was his mother! :p (But geez, who eats cheap Chinese takeaway and champagne?)

Sex and the City (SaTC)
I went on the SaTC tour (just for the hell of it). Two other guys were supposed to join me - one was an avid fan of the show ("I use to watch the show all the time!"), the other was wanting to go for the "hot, single women" - (me: "How do you know that they all won't be over 40 and be from New Jersey?"). Both extremely paranoid about being labelled "gay" upon going. ("If we go, can you please mention in passing convesation that we're not gay, and repeat this more than once? Or even better, can we pretend that you're the one who dragged us along?")

Both also wanted me to book them tickets, however I had a sixth sense not to - (I suspected I was going to be lumped with two spare tickets otherwise,) and joined a bus load on the Sunday afternoon of - yup, you guessed it - "single women from New Jersey", and one strange, lone Canadian guy (who was in my opinion was basically American as he moved to the US to live when when he was three). For a guy who has apparently "travelled all around Europe" he said some pretty idiotic things, namely - "Do you get shows like the Sopranos over in London?". (It was time to stop talking to him after that.)

One of the big highlights of the tour was sitting on Carrie's stoop @ no. 70 Perry St (West Village).

The tour itself was okay (would have been better with a few good girlfriends - Miss C and pretty P, where were you....?) and was guided by one extremely perky blonde NY gal. (Initially I thought she was on coke, but then there seems to be a lot of extremely perky people out there in the States. Good thing I didn't have a hangover, otherwise I would have wanted to throttle her.) I came out of the tour with a free "spanker" (aka a rectangular piece of wood) courstey of a trip to Pleasure Chest and diabetes from consuming one, extremely sugar injected cupcake.

The Magnolia Bakery is crazy. It's like an exclusive club with a bouncer and a velvet rope, and a ridiculous line that goes around the block. (There's a "one in, one out" policy. Apparently only twelve people are allowed in at a time due to fire regulations.) I attempted to offload the spanker to my cousin -

F: "What the hell am I suppose to do with that?"

And then to another friend the next day -

L: "Too late. The boyfriend has left for London already. You should have given it to me yesterday!"

Before finally discarding it in the kitchen bin. (What a waste, the poor tree....)

One more thing about Sex and the City:

I actually walked past the filming of the movie at Bryant Park on one of the days. (As per usual, I didn't realise what it was at that time. I was too preoccupied with wanting to get my Japanese takeaway.) Movie spoiler: I think Samantha attends a Mercedes Fashion week show and ends up getting splattered with red paint by ?PETA for wearing a fur jacket...? She had red "blood" on her jacket anyway.... There's just so much filming going on everywhere in New York that you just get over it very quickly and then up with the attitude of, "What?! They're filming and blocking the pavement - AGAIN!!? HOW DO THEY EXPECT ME TO F**KING GET THROUGH?!! DO THEY THINK I'M JUST FREE TO WANDER THE STREETS OF NEW YORK IN MY OWN SWEET TIME?!" (Hee hee, and indeed I was....)

Empire State Building vs the Rockerfeller Centre
After travelling to many cities, I have to say that New York still has THE BEST skyline. The London skyline (if you can even call it that,) sucks - and this is not just when comparing it to NY. (See my last London park entry for photographic evidence: http://closetblonde.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html)

I think I said all the above a little too loudly, as I made some English tourists get all huffy and say to me, "Are you joking? The NY skyline is ugly. London's is so much better - blah de blah de blah..." (Yeah right.)

THE EMPIRE STATE BUILDING
I paid $34US for the privilege of going all the way up to the 102nd floor. (The ticket also included a visit to the 86th floor.)

Verdict:
The 102nd floor has very few people (as most tourists aren't willing to fork over $34 for the privilege of the going to the very top level,) so the view is generally not blocked by heads. However, as the room is encased in clear perspex (which is kinda smudgy from oily noses and fingers), your photos tend to come out a bit blurry......

(Above: The "Eh" photo from the 102nd floor)

The 86th floor: You get a view with lots of heads and fencing. You obviously can't see as far out as you can from the 102nd floor, but I suppose the view is clearer when you poke your head out in between railing... The railing also makes it difficult to get a good, clear shot of the skyline. Photographic opportunity is fencing and railing galore.....

Rockerfeller Centre

Verdict: Fine, you can't climb as high as the Empire State building, but it's definitely less crowded, the staff are less grumpy, and there's interesting history and memorabilia to read and look at on the way up....

You even get an elevator ceiling "show" on your way up:

You basically get more bang for your buck. The view is still spectacular.

New York is just so iconic. You could be blind folded, put on a plane and dumped in the middle of the city, and you'd just know where you are.

What is particularly appealing about the Rockerfeller centre is that they use clear glass to board up the observation deck, and they also give you gaps in between the glass for you to take fantastic photos like the ones above.

Macy's is like "Nightmare on Elm's St" for Guys

While in the elevator with L. and A. (coming down from the Empire State building,) I suggested we go around the corner and check out Macy's. (A trip to New York is not complete without a visit to Macy's....)

A responded by:
1) Cowering in a little ball in the corner of the lift
2) Burying his head in his hands and
3) wailing like a wounded animal the word, "Noooooo!!!" (Much to the amusement of an elderly couple who were also in the lift.)

Me: "What's wrong? Seriously, I don't like department stores. We'll be in and out in less than 30 minutes, max."

A (continuing to wail): "Noooo!!! You don't understand!!! Some people say that and then end up never coming out of that place again!!! I HATE that place!!!"

True enough, about 15 minutes later in Macy's, I turned to L and said, "Department stores suck. Let's get out." - the only problem was trying to physically find a way out of the store. ("OMG!!! A was right!!! We're trapped and can't get out!")

American Fashion
When you can't have a dog, you can always buy yourself a dog bag. On the downside, you'll look like one of those crazy old ladies who dresses their dogs in baby clothes and bundles them up into one of those antique 1940's baby prams, but on the upside, at least you'll never have to clean up any poop.

New York Lingo
American dogs can read.

(And also no "poo-poo" either....)

The Food
After constantly eating bad food during my first time in New York, C & I thought we were just eating at the wrong restaurants. I've now come to the conclusion that food in American is just bad. (Think Carnegie and Katz Deli which sell "If-I-finish-this-thing-I-think-I-will-die-of-a-heart-attack pastrami sandwiches.) I suppose the best "western" food I had this time around was the sausages I bought from Faicco Sausage Shop (260 Bleecker St) in Greenwich Village.

(Above: Pastrami sandwich at Katz Deli)

Also think more salt, more sugar, more oil and more fat in everything. Ick. This is why I decided to mainly stick to Asian food this time around. (I went to the Japanese takeaway place on 41st E. St nearly every day.)

Of the more interesting things I ate/drank:

Korean nasi pear juice in Korea Town. It even had pear pulp in it. Yum, yum! There was also an Asian frozen yoghurt store called Pinkberry (7 West 32nd St) that served frozen yoghurt that tasted exactly like Yakult - every Asian kid's childhood drink.

Lindt chocolate is my "Cadbury", but for some reason when it comes to Japanese chocolate, even the cheap chocolate taste good.

Mmmm! Jumbo strawberry chocolate chocolate! These usually don't come in a "lollipop" form and are usually smaller... (This was purchased from a Japanese Grocery store called Yagura - 24 E. 41st St.)

"Broadway reviews summarised into one line"
Rent: Mediocre musical script.
Hairspay: Pure saccachrine, candy-pop fun. Only Americans could do this right.

Oooh..... I was such a bad person at Rent..... During the intermission, the guy who was sitting next to me asked me if I was Japanese.

"NO." I snapped, not even turning to look at him. (Well, after nearly a week of people shouting "konichiwa" when riding past me on their bike, car, taxi etc I was getting kinda aggro about it.)

The man said, "Oh sorry..... I am from Osaka... You look Japanese..."

The poor guy then went on to say he was having difficulty following the musical - ("Their singing is very good, but I cannot understand what they are singing about.") and had thought that I may have been Japanese, and may have been able to explain the storyline in Japanese to him. Oops. Boy did I feel bad after that.... His english was actually really good, and I think he was having difficulty catching the American twang through the music and song - (even I was having difficulty understanding everything in this particular musical). He told me that he had also gone to see Chicago and couldn't understand that either. (When I heard this, I figured he was a lost cause. I mean, is Chicago really all that difficult to follow...?)

After our conversation, the guy then thanked me for talking to him, which made me feel even worse! Santa is not going to bring me any presents after this performance....

The "Artistist Shot" at Wall St
This is A.'s interpretation of an artistic photograph. I look like I'm standing for the American national anthem.

I had to put this up as A. literally lay down flat on the (very dirty) New York pavement to take this picture. (A for effort.) Actualy, come to think of it, he did the same thing in London where the pavement is significantly dirtier....

The Museums

The first three pictures are from MoMA (Museum of Modern Art), and the last one of the big canoe is from the Natural History museum, which I had to leave sooner after, as there was a large group of screaming toddlers who didn't look like they were going to stop screaming any time soon. Mothers, museums are not a zoo. The animals, aside from your own monkeys are not alive for one.

One thing great about London is most of the museums and galleries are free. You get similar stuff in New York, but have to pay about a $20US entry free for the privilege. Lucky for me, my cousin kindly loan me her work card (as her company has corporate membership,) the parting words of: "You don't look like me, but the photos kinda blurry so maybe just give it a try and see if you can pass as me."

Seriously, although I know that "all asians look alike," I really do not think I look like F. Fine, for most of the time they barely even glanced at the card - ("Vaguely female, check. Asian, check."), but the guy at MoMA actually studied the ID card looking back and forward from the card and me and then said, "Yup, this is obviously you."

American Idiot.

"Proof that I went there"
The Statue of Liberty:

Fine, I didn't actually go there - but we took the Staten Island ferry and kinda went past it - in the distance.... (F. had to wait in line for 3 hours to get up to the top of the statue, why waste half a day doing that?)

Central Park:

My excuse for not going last time was because it was 3C and snowing.

Most Surreal Experience
While watching an advert on TV at JFK airport for Anderson Cooper's 360 programme, I had the actual real life Anderson Cooper stroll past me at the same time.

Or so I think. Maybe I imagined it.