Day 10 - Begging Mothers and Pizza Shops

2nd day of work. 7 minute walk to the subway station, 24 minute train ride, 15 minute walk to work amongst crowds and crowds of people in the Penn Station that is being overlooked by the U.S. Military. Yup, they stand there. Everyday, all day. On the sides of the halls and watch you. Along with other cops and the MTA security. If a terrorist wanted to commit an attack, this is the place. It's a bit creepy.

I got to work, sat at my desk, had more training, still blowing my nose over and over again. Lunchtime flew in what to me was like an hour, but in reality it was 3. I didn't have lunch with me, was too sick to cook. I decided I'll walk around the neighborhood and discover. However due to the cold, there's not much discovering going on. Two blocks up, I found a sandwich place called Pret-A-Manger. It had healthy prepared foods - salads, sandwiches, paninis and baguettes. I chose a chicken mozzarella baguette. It wasn't that big, maybe like 3/4 of the ones in Bageterie Boulevard. $ 8.something. Uff. But it was delicious. Not worth the price but good. Well, tomorrow I'll find another place. Like there's a lack here. :D

5 P.M. hit and I went home. Once again, through crowds of people, through the labyrinth of Penn Station to my subway train, watch the people riding it and trying to figure out their lives. I already am a champ and ride with my headphones in my ears. But that's only because all the stations have their names on the wall. If not, I would be lost, the conductors announce the stations like this: "1-2-hm hmth station, please hmhm the doors, hmhmhmmm closing." Beeeeeep. Moses help me. I also get into the stage of power napping on the subway because I'm tired. I am SO tired it's not funny. It's kind of a meditation. I listen to my music and just get into a different universe. I don't close my eyes, still watch the people, but if you were talking to me, I wouldn't know.

All of a sudden my "meditation" was interrupted by a woman's voice. It was confident but nice. She was announcing something but it wasn't an emergency. I heard words like "need" and "please" and "my child". I lowered the volume but didn't take my headphones off. I couldn't see her but I heard her. She had it all prepared, the whole dialogue. But her story kind of touched me. I didn't hear the beginning but she said that she applied for child support for some reason and food stamps and that her son was 1 years old. The city? or government? did not approve and she was now doing everything she could to make a living. She even had the documents to prove people she wasn't a scam. She asked for food cans, not money. But who carries food cans in the subway. Usually people buy these things in their neighborhood. I couldn't decide. I had a few dollar bills in my wallet and I couldn't decide if it was true or not. I generally don't give money to beggars because I know that it'll go into booze and/or drugs. If I feel for them I give them a cigarette. It's mean, I know, but I have reasons and experience. However I decided I'll give her at least a dollar, maybe 2. You can't really get a can for a dollar these days. She walked into my view. She was tall, nicely dressed but worn out clothes. Not the cleanest, but what do you expect. Some people gave her money, and when they did, she showed them the papers. She was saying that she and her son were hungry and grateful for any type of food. But I looked at her and she didn't seem hungry to me. She even had a belly! I hid my money and looked away.

Once she passed I felt bad. I really did. I actually wanted to run after her and give her the 2 dollars. But I just couldn't. There was something that I didn't feel was right. I don't believe that the state will not help you. I know it's hard. But I am of the opinion that if you have a child, at least that child gets help. Who was with the 1 year old boy while she was begging? Wouldn't the social workers take him away. I mean they do it here all the time and even for nonsense. They take hoarders' kids away! This hit me hard. I realized that maybe her story was true. And if it was, I better work my ass off and get some savings because I can't end up like this. Money here flies out of your hands, you don't even realize it.

Well, that is life. And I had to put myself together. I was about to go for dinner with Amy's best friend and I wanted to be on my finest and funniest and cutest behavior.  For this friend of Amy's was very cute and intelligent. Nope people, this was not a date. But I was attracted to this man and it seemed that he was into me too.

His name is Sergio. He's 2 years older than me, originally from Honduras, but born in the Bronx. A true New Yorker. Now he lives two blocks away from our apartment. He works in the legal department and if I hang out with him often enough, my English shall be divine. Sergio uses "long" words. Him and Amy knew each other since preschool and we met the night I met the comedian - Gerald. He came over the other night and we exchanged numbers. Since Sergio has a car, I asked him for a ride to Jersey on Sunday for some shopping. He graciously agreed as the gentleman he really is. And since then, we text everyday, all day. The longest I went without a text from him or vice versa was probably two hours. Yes ladies, he is the delight. For now. I don't know him enough yet of course.

I asked Sergio if we could go to a pizza place in our area. I had to finally try New York pizza. He told me that we could go to a fancy place or a regular one. I asked for a regular. I had to start saving. So Sergie (yes, I call him Sergie sometimes) took me to a pizza ... shop? It wasn't really a restaurant, but more of a place where you order at the counter and then you sit down on those red and white chairs that crowded a plastic table. I was a little thrown off, because I did expect a restaurant, just not so expensive. You know, like Pizza Hut. Or Fridays. Nothing fancy schmancy. He asked me if I'd like to go to a different place. YES! Please. So we crossed the street. We got in to another place and honest to god it was worse. When it comes to cleanliness. "Poker face, poker face Agnes! This must be normal here!" my brain instructed. And so I threw on a smile. And it quickly became real because when I saw the pizza I didn't care where I was. Sergio asked me what I wanted. He recommended the calzone. He is such a gentleman that he recommends stuff in places like these. :D So I asked for a slice of pepperoni, my all time fav and a cheese calzone. Ahhh when will I learn! That was a mistake. In terms that the portions here a HUGE. A slice is really hard to finish, I don't why. But it was spectacular. The cheeeeese, the grease, the pepperoni. The tomato sauce and even the crust. Divine. I was covered in grease but I didn't care. I ate about half of the slice so I could keep room for the calzone. Now, I had calzone in Prague once and it was half empty. So since then I don't eat them because I consider them an optical illusion. This ... this was different. Sergio, once again the gentie he is sliced the calzone for me in half. It was stuffed with cheese. It was like you cut a fat person in half and he's stuffed with fat and that's all. I dipped it in marinara sauce and I was in heaven. For drinks I ordered a Grape Popsicle Soda. Not POP, SOOOODA. I loved it. I was soooo happy. Slobber my friends, slobber:

Since Sergio was kind enough to pay, I decided to invite him for drinks. We went back to 181st and Cabrini. And we talked and talked and talked. My attraction levels were hitting the sun. He was so smart and kind. And I could sense that this is real, not just him trying to get into my pants. Sergio is a delight. And so was the pizza. Perfect night. :)

Day 9 – First Day of Work

Day 9 was one of the most exciting days in my career. A dream of mine came true. After years and years of sitting in school and different offices I finally got where I wanted to be. In a cubicle in a big city working for a corporation. It might sound weird or boring to you, but this was my dream since I was super young. Like 12.

It all started in elementary school in Prague. I was in 8^th or 9^th grade. Our teachers started to discuss our future and we were supposed to choose the high school we would like to go to. For my American friends – high schools in the Czech Republic are very specific. You either go to a gymnasium, business academy or special qualifications schools – so hair stylist, electrician, carpenter etc. When the teacher asked me what I wanted to do, I said I want to be a manager. I saw myself in an office wearing a suit. I could see skyscrapers from the office view and it was supposed to be in the U.S. Preferably Chicago. My teacher just smiled and recommended me to go to a Business Academy, which I did. Best days of my life.

In order to fulfill my dream, I decided to go to an American college in Prague against my father's will. My Dad always wanted me to go to a Czech university. They were for free and the education has high standards. But sometimes they are not good enough for jobs in the U.S., so my BA. from a Czech school would be in most cases absolutely useless here. I went to Anglo-american, then moved to Pennsylvania, then back to Prague College … well, you know the story. When I came back from Pennsylvania, I felt like a failure. I intended to stay there, but I couldn't. I was disappointed. I told myself I'll come back „home“, but this little voice in the back of my head just shook it's head in disapproval.

I finished my BA. in Prague, got a job in a corporation and started the corporate life. But it wasn't enough. Plus, my manager was a royal a-hole. I had to leave. After that, I was 10 months unemployed. I thought my life is over and I'll never be where and what I wanted to be. I started up my own business, quite successful in the beginning, but declining after Christmas. I think that it was also my laziness. I just wasn't up for it enough. I needed a stable pay and the fact that my Daddy paid for my rent just demotivated me. So I started to go for interviews. For 3 – 4 months, everyone said „no“ to me. I didn't understand. I was always wanted. But the crisis hit CZE hard and English just wasn't enough. Now-a-days, they want Dutch, German, Danish, Swedish, Romanian etc etc... I was STUCK. Until one day, I was invited to an interview and long story short I got the job.

I worked my butt off. I loved the job. It was stressful, non-stereotypical, adventurous and everyday there was something else going on. The pay? Meh.. well, you gotta do what you gotta do. So I took on other jobs – I wrote articles, I started to get business into my company, I translated and taught English. I slept in average for 4 hours. But I was happy.

One day I got a business offer from a friend regarding my business. I was supposed to do it in Florida. Sun, beaches, cocktails and business. Perfect. We started planning. Into detail. Tons of planning, apartment arranging, car arranging, this and that arranging. When everything was a settled and clear, I got my air ticket, informed my supervisor I am out and about in January and told my landlord and signed off the lease. I was excited and ready to go back home and spend some time in the sun. Only concern was the hurricanes. :D

5 days after my air ticket purchase my friend of 5 years wrote me that the deal is off. And blocked me. Everything shattered. All of it. The beaches, the work and my trust in people. I was done. And that's how I got my job in New York. My supervisor put it on the table. She basically saved me. Along with another colleague of mine. I went through the interview process and now I'm here.

Ahhh first days of work. The first day is always the most stressful. Getting there on time, wearing the right outfit and hoping you'll fit in. Hoping that your colleagues will like you. You know how it goes when someone new comes in. I was always off-standish to newbies. But my colleagues basically already knew me, just didn't know my face. So it wasn't that „awkward“. I arrived to the office, got introduced, got my own desk – cubicle. My dream did come true. I have the typical American cubicle in a beautiful office with a downtown view. I finally made it.

The best part is the walk to work. I get off at 34^th (of course) and walk two blocks up. On my way I meet Macy's and the Empire State Building stretches in the morning sun. I am truly downtown. It can't get more New-Yorkey than this. The con is the amount of people. There are sooo many people that it's not even funny. I feel like a car on a highway, switching lanes aggresively. People don't say anything, but they give you a look. A nasty one because I walk in their way. But there's no other way to do it! 

I sat in my cubicle, did my work. It's very administrative and you have to think. Basically inputting information in the system and solving clients' problems via email. The usual office rat stuff. For lunch I had Velveeta mac and cheese and the Boloni salad. Me and my new supervisor talked for a bit, but I was shy. And then back to work. Nonstop. Even though the environment isn't so stressful like in my previous job, you work nonstop. You sit at your desk in the morning and you stop at lunch and then again till 5 P.M. Time flies here. It warps. I am pleased.

The office is very diverse when it comes to people. Most are Spanish speaking. But we have a Danish girl and our boss is Dutch. Again, all of them have stories. I don't know them, they didn't tell me anything but you can see it. All of my colleagues are girls, except for our boss. And most of them have children. They look very young, my age. They're very mature and quiet. For now.

At the end of the day, I was quite exhausted. I was still sick, which was humiliating, because when my supervisor explained something to me, all I would do all the time was blow my nose. Or cough. Boogers everywhere. Fuj. :D To be honest, I got home and just fell into bed. But I was happy. Finally back to work after almost 4 weeks of vacation. It was getting into my head. I was going nuts. But now I'll be fine again. All I need is a routine.

Day 8 - Noise and New Yorkers

Still sick. Feeling terrible. It was 10 A.M. and I heard a car alarm honking over and over and OVER. For 30 mins. I thought I'm gonna call the cops. I was schwitzing like a dawg, hallucinating again in my fevers. The car alarm kept honking. I thought it would never stop and I would hear it for the rest of my life. And then it was done. Finally.

Nothing really happened this day, except that the next day was my first day of work and I was freaking out. Therefore I shall write about New Yorkers.

New Yorkers are a fascinating breed of the whole world. If you want to go for a trip around the world, save money and come here. You'll meet every single person from the world here, every culture, every type of mental disease, every single type of lifestyle. And what I love the most is that you see every style possible here. In fashion I mean. From posh to hood, from hobo to polo. I wish I could take pictures, but a) I'm still not sure if I can and don't want people to see me and b) I don't want to be sued by Humans of New York for almost copying them. BUT, please do check out the website. Humans of New York is an awesome website showing people's life here (I'm trying to find the guy who takes the pictures of people and get a photo done. :D ).

There are many things I've noticed about people here, but the biggest thing is, that everyone here has a serious life story. And probably a post-traumatic syndrome. Actually, if you only have a post-traumatic syndrome, you're basically considered normal. Everyone has a past. Something happened to them in their life.

I met a elderly man in a bar, who is a local in our neighborhood. He goes to the bar every night, which I consider sad, but that's his thing. He told that when he was 17, he traveled around Europe and stopped by in Prague. Communism was in full. He took a train around the country and encountered a check-up from the police. In front of him was a family who had torn clothes, a tiny bag full of their possessions and a tiny bag that had food. It seemed that it was the only food they had. The police stripped this man down, completely naked in front of them. He passed the check-up and put his clothes back on, completely humiliated. The family gave him the bag of food and smiled. No word. While he was telling me this story, he teared up a little bit. It was a beautiful story, but I would not tear up. But he went through it. That was his syndrome.

I spoke to this girl. She looks like a normal girl who goes to work, pays her rent and bills and takes care of the family. When she was young, she used to belong to a local gang. I couldn't believe it.

I like to watch people on the subway. Mostly they're sleeping. You know how they say that New York never sleeps? Oh darlings, it does. The subway is a place where you take a power nap. That's where New York sleeps. You see girls with Michael Kors bags, but also women with two kids and a light jacket, totally skinny, even though it's super cold. I saw a mother like that. She was a gorgeous Afro-American lady, face and body like a model. In front of her was a stroller with a boy playing with a light-up plane. Next to her sat her daughter. She had syndrome-down. This mother had to guard both kids from not getting lost within all those people, make sure that her daughter doesn't accidentally kick someone because she had a slight twitch and at the same time she was entertaining her son with the light-up plane. It was obvious that she was low on funds, could barely support her family. But she was smiling and laughing like she was sitting on a beach with her kids and playing and enjoying the sun. Her aura was incredible.  I could not stop looking at her, she lit up the whole train.

They say that New York is for the most strongest people on planet Earth. I think it's true. That's why I am a little bit in a freak out mode. Am I strong enough? Will I handle it? Because honest to god, it's not about the life style or my job, it's about the people around me. Just seeing the struggle gives you this fear that one day it could be you. And it could. You can slip so easily here, and when you do, it's hard to get up.

There is one thing New Yorkers don't understand. The privilege of just being a New Yorker. I told this to my roomies and people I met on the way. Most of the world wants to be here. And even though there are 9 million people on the island itself, it's hard to get here for people outside. For us "outsiders" it's a dream to get here. And when we hear that you were born and raised in New York, we treat you with respect. When I told people this, they all of a sudden realized it and smiled. And I could sense a tinge a pride.

It is really great to be a New Yorker. Everyone is a salad. It's a home for people like me who are searching for their home. Who belong to more than one culture and/or live in a cultural limbo like me. Still got 11 months and 2 weeks left to see if this will really be my home though. :)

Oh and I'll try to take more pictures of New Yorkers. In the meanwhile, really check Humans of New York.

Day 7

I woke up this morning, barely breathing. My lungs were on fire. "Oh no, nononononooooo" I thought. In 2 days I started my job and couldn't afford to be sick. I felt like hell. The whole house was sick, but the girls were feeling better. Luckily my mother packed me some medicine, so I basically overdosed myself.

You know when you have a fever, you start hallucinating? I was laying in my bed just thinking. When I'm sick, I also get into a depression. I was looking around my room. It was dark, small and because I don't have enough furniture, my room is quite clutsy. I mind started to race ... What did I get into? Will my life be better here? I started to freak out. I felt lonely. I started to miss my family, friends and mainly Noix.

At the end of the day I was getting irritated. The street was really loud and I couldn't really sleep. I got no rest so my mood went way down low. So I watched my favorite shows.

As only some of you know, I am a reality show freak. Like the real deal reality shows. Real Housewives, Mob Wives, Basketball Wives, Chicagoliscious etc. I know, it's dumb, but the people's psychology fascinates me. What kind of people go there? And especially if you come from circles like that, why would you humiliate yourself and go on such a shows? I watched Real Housewives of New York. Of course. I love watching the streets they're in, the clothes, cars and apartments. Their life seems so easy, they are successful at almost everything they do, mainly thanks to the media. I have to be honest, I'd like a life like that and in a way I always thought I would.

I always knew I'll have a good life. I knew I'll have my Audi, a nice apartment and a job in a big city. I always wanted to be in a corporation. But now .. I see how it really works. That show exists because it's about the 1 % privileged who just were really lucky.  They say that you have to work hard to become wealthy. I do believe in it. But basically everyone in New York works really hard. And only that 1 % gets lucky. Isn't that crazy? Is then worth it? Is it worth scraping every single penny for rent and a sandwich and not enjoy life? And here it is .. "enjoy life". What is the definition of "enjoying life". Is it being wealthy? Or is it being alive?

Amy sure shows me how to enjoy life. Almost every night after work we have a party or a few drinks. We're happy. We're enjoying life. We have a roof above us, heat, water and food on the plate everyday. We all have jobs in times when the economy is still harsh. But my problem is, that even though I am enjoying it, I want more. I want that fancy life. It's not bad, it's what I want. But I don't think that here it'll come true.

So I'm looking for my Goldenstein. ;)
 

Day 6 - Macy's and Saggio's Spell

Friday. Last free Friday before working for the rest of my life (not including public holidays and vacations). I wanted to have a day to myself and Amy and Steph were at work/school. So I went downtown, got a bank account and walked around. Of course I got seduced by a Macy's store. It just sucked me in. I saw a discount sign, I couldn't help it. And since I needed a new handbag, why not. I got in and it was paradise. Handbags everywhere, perfumes, make-up and clothes. A shop assistant took me around, showed me all the bags. The cheapest was for about $ 198. My hopes were quickly simmering away. She then left me. I was standing there in the middle of the store abandoned. How could she? She shows me all these bags and then with a smile disappears. And I'm standing there and don't know which one to choose. So basically I still gotta start again from the beginning, because the assistant ran threw the store and I have a bad memory. I gave up on Coach, can't afford that now, unless the airlines reimburse me really quick.

I moved on to Ralph Lauren. And there I fell in love. It was a silverish-grey shoulder bag with a slight snake skin detail. Not the cheapy one, the nice, elegant one that just matches with anything except for brown. Price - $ 298. Uffffff.... Godddddddddd!!!!!!!! I wannnnaaaaaa! But I can't. So I moved on the the top floors because usually you have the cheaper brands up there. Um, no. Louis greeted me there along with Monsieur Gucci. And Coco was right next to them. I tried to get out but the escalators were designed in such a way that I couldn't get out. I was starting to freak out and this paranoia got into me. I thought that if I don't buy anything I won't find the exit. I got my head straight so of course in the end I found it. I headed back towards the exit and there he was, once again. Ralph Lauren and that amazing bag. I stopped by the counter and wanted to ask for the price and if it had any discount applied to it. The lady however took no notice of me, completely ignored me, so I took it as a sign from God and left. I saved my card and my savings and was happy.

I headed home and had a "date" planned. My date was at Saggio's. An Italian restaurant that opened up 4 years ago in our neighborhood. The reviews were top notch so I decided to try the food. And drinks. Saggio's is located nearby the corner of 181st and Cabrini. I ordered a Lemon Ice. It was extremely good and it tasted like Lemon Sour Ball or something like that. Then I ordered a pasta dish with meatballs, sausage and tomato sauce. The pasta was homemade and I felt like I'm in Milan again. It was the best Italian food I had. See pics below and slober:

I fell in love with the restaurant and am happy I'm so close to it. I'll be going there very VERY often.

Day 5 - Party Like a Dominican

When I first started communicating with Amy, she told me that she has parties in her apartments and get-togethers. So I stalked her FB and her pictures were quite convincing. Amy was a party girl. A wild party girl. But I still couldn't believe it.

Well the party did happen and on a Thursday. And it was just like on FB. It was wiiild.

Beforehand, I went on my first New York supermarket shopping spree. Amy sent me to a supermarket called Bravo. I wasn't expecting anything fancy schmancy, probably something like Lidl. Well, it was worst than Lidl. It was small, smelly and I didn't understand the organization. You had the juice isle next to the soup isle, veggies next to dried foods ... So I spent about an hour there. Also, I realized that being 5 years out of the States had me forget lots of the products. I felt like the one time I was in Denmark and was looking for breading. Completely lost. Completely. But I got everything needed and on sale. As Amy wrote on her shopping list.

Next stop - liquor store. In the U.S., they don't sell alcohol in supermarkets. Just occasionally beer or wine. Hard alcohol is sold separately in the liquor store. It's a paradise for alcoholics. Amy got me a frequent customer card (haha). I wanted vodka so I got Smirnoff. I asked for the large bottle. The man got me a 1.75 l. It was crazy and big and I knew it would be super expensive. In Europe you get those things for around CZK 1000. I started laughing and told the man that I wanted the 0.75 l one. However, I wanted to know - just out of curiosity - how much did the BIG bottle cost. $ 25. "What???" I exclaimed. "Yes, I know, it's a bit more expensive ..." the man replied. No... no no no no this is NOT expensive. I got it. I was sooo happy. I don't even know why. I don't just drink vodka all the time. But I was happy. Because I got a bargain. This is a bargain. And it'll serve for the party and I'll still have some left.

I got back home and told Amy my exciting adventure. She told me that yeah, it's a normal price. Wow. Yes people, this is America! Cheap cars, iPhones and booze.

People started to come in, mostly girls - Amy's friends. Then her brother came and other friend. The "other" friend was named Alex. He was hilarious. When he spoke, it was worth it. Amy's friends were talking about piercings, because one had a nipple piercing. Alex said that he wanted an eyebrow piercing but ... well I cite: "I look like a Portorican lesbian with my eyebrow pierced."

 And then he laughed, as seen as above. And I did too, for a loooooong time. :)

Afterwards I don't know much. I felt like in I got into a jungle and everything just got blurry and wild and happy and dancy and .. see pics below. That's all I got to say. :)

We played Kings and that made the party start off really quick. But as it's said, what starts off quick, ends to fast. I crashed at 10:30 P.M. It was embarrassing but I guess my jet-lag kicked in. I was dizzy and done and even though the party was SUPER loud, I fell asleep. Oh well, next time. :)

Day 4 - The Comedian

Rise and shine to another sunny day in New York. I don't know what it is, but the sun shines here like in the Alps. I am literally missing the mountains here. Anyway, Day 4 meant "date-night" with The Comedian - Gerald Torregosa (yes, you can Google him and he's even on YouTube). I was quite excited. Gerald promised to take me around the comedy clubs and show me his performances. I watched him on YouTube and he is a hoot and a holla.

But my date was in the evening so I was just chilling at home. All of a sudden I got a call from an unknown number. I picked it up and a man told me that my luggage was in New York and that he'll deliver it within 2 hours. I was feeling super jolly. I can now actually dress up for my date! And the next day I was supposed to have a meeting at work, so I can finally pull out my dresses and handbags! My mood went up to the sky.

Just so you know, if you decide to move abroad today, you are allowed to take one suitcase, maximum weight of 23 kg. That is when you get a cheap ticket like me, which most of us do. Fitting your whole life into 23 kg is not the easiest thing to do. But with the experience of moving in total of 17 times and the expertise of my mother, we somewhat managed to fit in 2 pairs of shoes, 3 handbags, most of my winter clothes, cosmetics, medicine and my documents. Oh, and a pillow and cover with sheets. Weight - 32 kg, but oh well. It was really all the necessary stuff and as you've read before, I took ONLY 3 handbags, which for me is a disaster. Especially if you're going to New York, basically the capitol of fashion.

My suitcase arrived, I checked if it was mine, signed the papers and went. The man didn't even help me take it up (I live in the 3rd floor). So I took more than half of my weight up but the adrenalin of excitement fueled me. That was soon to be substituted with utmost anger. When I opened up my suitcase, my handbags were gone. And so was my nail polish. They went through my medicine and one of the herb bottles wasn't secured, so it partially spilled over my new dress. I thought I was about to faint. My two favorite handbags. Gone. Never coming back. When it comes to handbags, they are my children. I carefully select them, make sure no one has them and that they are unique. I am a quick shopper, but handbag shopping can take me up to 2 weeks. And I do spend money on them. I shouldn't, but I do. I love them. These two were my brown Coach bag which many of my girlfriends admired (yes girls! that one! they stole that one!!!!!) and the new grey Mohito bag, which even my boss liked! I don't understand why someone would steal nail polish, I really don't. The suspect is obvious, a woman. A horrible primitive selfish woman who is supported on food stamps and probably weighs 200 lbs. One day lady.. one day you'll get it back. Enjoy my bags, but they are cursed now and shall haunt you forever! They'll cause you nightmares and you'll become a severe shopaholic and get in so much debt that you'll loose your house and everything. And all you'll have are these bags that caused you this hell and you'll try to get rid of them, but they shall play with you forever and ever and ever.

I cried and screamed. I called the airlines and cried into the phone and them yelled. And then apologized because it wasn't the woman's fault on the phone. And she could feel my pain and was apologizing. And yes, I called my Dad. I always do when there's something bad. He gets mad and destroys everyone who hurt me. I love it, he's just Jigsaw. Anyway! Total costs of claimed lost items - over 500 bucks. Yes. I probably won't get that. But I'll fight for it and I'll make sure everyone knows. U.S. Airways loveys. Thus all.

So there I am with my mood all in the basement and even lower. And now I have this date. I unpacked but on some make-up and decided to wear my batman shirt and blazer, since I'm meeting up with a funny person. I hopped on the subway and played happy motivating music through my headphones to control and calm down my brain and especially my now broken heart.

We met up on 43rd and 8th. I got lost, the poor thing had to find me. Lately, I've always been getting lost. He took me up to an old building that hosted shows. There were about 6 people there and then comedians waiting in line to perform. It was a sad place, but very classic. Gerald took me around. There were other rooms where people would practice their performances. And not only comedians, but actors practicing their plays. We sat down in one room and he started to tell me what his life was like.

As it usually is, comedians are happy and funny on stage, sad and negative off stage. Gerald was real. He was just being real. Gerald is a realtor throughout the day and makes people laugh at night. He told me that there are too many comedians in New York and it is hard to get a gig. He told me that I shouldn't expect him to be a big star or that he's not famous. All of this I've known, I was just interested in his life and well-being. He also was a host on a radio. Gerald let me know right off the bat that he isn't a multimillionaire which I didn't expect also. He was very about himself and presented himself in a selfish way. That is what New York can do to do. For some or most, life is very very difficult. People come here to fulfill their dream, as did Gerald and pay a high price for it. I assume that only a few get their dream come true. However one thing did anger me a bit. Gerald wasn't at times speaking about the city and people nicely. Of course, he had his experience. But I on one hand did not want to hear it because I just got hear and want to be happy and positive. And even naive, as long as it gets me through my first months. On the other hand, I didn't understand his complaining. He live alone in Brooklyn. ALONE - that is a dream here. He had a nice belly, so enough food I suppose. His jacket was nice and warm, and he had a warm sweater and underneath a very nice black button-up shirt. His hair was brushed backed and secured with gel and he was clean and smelled nice. What was there to complain about then? He basically had everything. Ok, the working hours are difficult and long, but he had a place to live and managed to pay his bills. There is nothing to complain about. Life is hard, being an artist is even harder. But that is life and you choose it that way.

Gerald then took me to the Comic Strip Live club. This was a nicer place with a bar and pictures of comedians that used to perform there. Eddie Murphy, Adam Sandler, Chris Rock, Seinfeld and more had their beginnings here. I took quick pictures, didn't want to look like a tourist or Russian spy.

We waited by the bar until it was Gerald's turn. Some comedians would come and say hi. There was a Jewish woman getting ready for her performance, so I told her the "What happens to a Jew, when he has an erection and hits the wall? He breaks his nose!" joke. She didn't laugh. Just gave me a judgmental smile and turned away. "Ooookkkay sister, I tried!" I thought to myself. Then walked in this tall man. He was from India and looked like a tall skinny Indian version of Mr. Bean. He came in and the room lit up. He was very friendly and came to me and introduce himself. I didn't get his name, started with an S, but later found out that it was Sandip Buch. We started talking and he was from Chicago. Immediately, I felt safe. He asked me how long was I in New York. "5 days" I said. He gave me a high-five. I wanted to hug this person. I asked him if he was only a comedian or also had a day job like Gerald. Sandip was a psychiatrist. Yes. A psychiatrist by day, comedian by night. I was wowed. This was an amazing experience. Sandip's jokes were sophisticated, intellectual and just ... cute. He used medical terms, but them funny. I hope to see him more. If you Google him, you'll find his medical experience and he sounds like a very serious MD. After his performance I shook his hand and complimented him.

Gerald then took me to the Chirpy Chicken. A fast-food with apparently the best chicken meals in town. And it was. The portions were so huge, I had the meal for lunch and dinner the next day. And the price? $ 6.something. Their salad was amazing too. I told Gerald I'll be going there more often and he laughed. It was because there are so many places in New York, that the ones you like you might visit 2x a year. He told me I'll get it. Soon.

On the way home, I saw a sign, that reminded me of a club in Prague. New York has a Lucerna too! But a fancy one. Of course. :)

Day 3 - The Day I Realised I'm in New York

On Day 3 I woke up with a horrible migraine and hangover. Amy and I got home from the bar at 2 A.M. Poor thing had to go to work and I was awoken by the street noise. Honking, garbage trucks, more honking, loud music coming out of cars and again more honking. New York wakes up around 7 A.M. You really don't need an alarm clock here. I was supposed to meet a friend who was visiting from Prague for 3 months at 11:40 for lunch, but I just couldn't. My head was throbbing. So I postponed to 2 in the afternoon and thank god I did.

I took the A train downtown. It was a long ride, my migraine still in full state. When you have a headache of that sort, you are sensitive to everything - light, sound and smell. It is known about NYC subways' smell of vomit and humans. I thought I'm going to throw up soon. I could hear every single rail the wheels hit. A man was sitting next to me taking selfies and trying to talk to me, but I had my headphones on and ignored him.

I got off as usual at Penn Station. This is my central station, it's the one I can always find. However it's always packed since it's a train station. I met up with my friend and we walked around and talked. It was a gorgeous sunny day. We walked on 5th and 6th, occasionally sat down to warm up with a coffee. He was here for 3 months already so he showed me around. What a paradox - he's the tourist here and I'm the "resident" and he's showing me around. :D

When you're in New York, you really don't realize it. New York is very natural. You automatically feel like you fit in because there are so many diverse people here. I was really excited to come here. I saw it in the movies and shows and New York is known to be the home of the strongest characters of the planet. It's intimidating. But when I came here, I felt nothing. No excitement or emotions. I was just here. It's blocks of buildings and buildings and that's all. Of course you have the Empire State Building that makes you realize where you're at. But it hides. My friend asked me if I saw the Times Square yet. Nope. So we walked there. When we got  there, it was amazing and FINALLY I could feel a rush of something. All of a sudden I was super happy. The energy and the lights of Times Square just hit you! It was gorgeous and thrilling. It was like a living system. I was jumping around and clapping my hands like a little girl who won a plush unicorn (it's soooo flufffyyyyy!!!!). I won't tell you where everywhere we walked because most parts I don't know, but basically it was from Penn Station to Central Park and back and around. I saw the Chanel and Gucci shops (another rush of emotions) and the tallest to be condominium, which looks like a humungous Crayon box. My dad could definitely design a better one. I got tons of beautiful pictures, see below and enjoy.

 Above pic is The Palace ... yes Gossip Girl fans, this is where Serena lived in Season 1!!!!

I love the city in the night time. It just glitters. Even from above in a plane. You don't see still lights, but they glitter and move, it's fascinating.

I have an app on my Fruit phone that shows me the distance I've walked. Well, we walked from 2 - 7 in the evening with short stops. Total? 18 km people, 18. In -2 degrees C. Yup! So after that we went to a Belgium organic foods restaurant for a bowl of hot organic chicken soup and organic chilli and a pot of hot organic fresh mint tea. All for $ 22. It was good and fulfilling. The restaurant is called Le Pain Quotidien located at 937 2nd Avenue.

In New York, you're days and nights are long. I thought I'd be sitting in my room all alone and crying of loneliness. But there's no time! After my walk, I met up with Amy in Buddha Beer Bar on 191st St. It was Trivia night so why not test our intellect. Well ... long story short, we ended up last. The trivia was hosted by a local comedian named Gerald Torregosa. He was a funny Filipino. We kept eyeing each other and in the end I was the winner, because I got his number. He promised to take me around the next day and show me where he performs. Why not? It's good to meet new people! And it would be a great adventure.

After the trivia we left home, however there is one last thing I have to show you. We got the receipt and I had to laugh. I wish they would put this on all receipts:

Stay sober!

DAY 2 - This is New York!

Day 2 was a Monday. I woke up in my comfy hotel/hostel bed and looked outside. It was raining. Damn. I was supposed to  meet my friends for breakfast and then head to the apartment. My luggage was delayed so I had my mountaineer back-pack. I've heard about New York's packed streets in rush-hour and since it was 8:30 A.M., I prepared myself for the battle. Boots on, hood on, back-pack tightly adjusted to my body. Gucci purse secured close to my body and let's do this.

I walked out of the hotel and was in a hurry, I already had a 10 minute delay. So perfect situation. Every New Yorker is in a hurry right? That's what pumps them. I got into the 103rd St. subway and got in line to purchase the MTA pass. I heard a yell and shuffling feet and all of sudden there were cops everywhere. "Oh-oh, this is not good." flew through my head. 6 - 7 police officers were surrounding a shaking afro-american guy. He looked like he was high on something - his body was thrusting itself in the air and he was very aggressive. My heart started to pound. I looked around and noticed that no one cared. They all had that oh-not-again-and-this-is-annoying look. To look cool as them, I focused on the MTA machine. There was a cute couple in front of me - probably from the Midwest (they're always cute) and they were struggling with the machine. HOOOOOWWWWW can you struggle with that? It's simple. You choose your language - English, Spanish, Francais and even Italian! Then you choose the type of MTA card - Unlimited, Day, Week, Discount, One Trip etc. EASY. I was already running 15 mins late. They turned around and apologized for the delay and that they've already figured it out. "Fucking tourists" I thought. And then I started to smile and a feeling of utter happiness came to me. I had my first New York "fucking tourists" moment!!!! I'm adjusting fast!!!!

I arrived to 42nd St station. It was 9:00 AM. The station was quite full but I've expected more. However when I got out, the first thing that hit me was my anxiety. It was really REALLY raining, which I hate and especially on a Monday morning - it just makes it really a Monday. But there was a pack, a herd of umbrellas crashing into themselves and turning and moving in different directions. Like cells in a blood stream, not stopping. To calm myself down, I lit up a ciggy. Dumb me. I secured my back-pack and pretended I'm a warrior in Sparta with his sword up in the air and just went. I just started walking a straight line towards the Pennsylvania Hotel with my cigarette delicately in front of me, holding my Gucci and an angry strict Don't-mess-with-me! face. And it worked. It did. But once I got into the hotel, I was like a chicken - wet and shaking and my eyes popping out. I didn't want to go back! Is this going to be my everyday morning? Actually yes, because my job is on 36th St. So every morning and evening I shall be a warrior. Think of me when you ride the subway in Prague at 7:30 A.M. and you're squeezed to the red nice clean doors. I'd be kissing them now. I would.

Due to rain, I didn't take much pictures, can't ruin my new iPhone (ahahahahaaaaa). However on the way to my apartment after breakfast (we were at Tim Horton's - nothing special) I took just a moment pic from the inside of the subway - I don't want to look too touristy.

You can see the rain. It was quite warm actually. This is taken from my so far favorite station - 125th. I don't know why it's my favorite, the neighborhood actually does not look safe, but I guess I like it because it's outside. Once I get a tantalizer - taizer (however you spell it), I'll go and explore.

I got home - I meet my roommate the previous day - and was ready to unpack. Now, my room to me is typical and classic New York. Teeny tiny - 7m2, built it closest, window facing the main street and a fire escape. People, it is fabulous and I love it. It includes an IKEA bed and dresser, so I got a bit of Europe here, which I am the most delighted about. But the fire escape I am most happy about. It's sooo classy and sooooo New Yorky, I can't just help it. Once spring hits, I am sitting on it, huffing and puffing and enjoying my cosmopolitans and watching the street.

 The neighborhood is called Washington Heights. Now, from Chicago I know that most things that have a Washington in it are prolly a hood. This neighborhood isn't a hood, even though it used to be on of the most dangerous neighborhoods in the city and notorious for drug dealing. Today, it's a Dominican neighborhood, the west part is even Jewish. Throughout the day, the neighborhood is super loud. My window is closed but it feels like an open window by the Magistrala in Prague. And when I open it ... You don't really feel like you're in the U.S. Spanish is everywhere or Dominican. People, language, signs, culture, music blasting out of cars and shops. I just wish it had the Dominican weather. People are very friendly here. They throw you a bit of a stare, but that's just maybe my paranoia and plus, I'm the new girl on the block - the new Blankita.

I have two roomies - Amy and Stephanie. Stephanie is beautiful and has this calm nature. When you are around her, you just calm down. You can be stressed, sad, overjoyed. You look at her and you're completely calm. She's a lifeguard (see? haha) and studies medicine. Amy ... ach muj boze Amy. She is the opposite. She charges you. She is like a charger. When you come home and you're dead and tired, she smiles, laughs, greets you (the whole street hears it) and you're up. Amy is like a mama. She shall take care of you. She's very warm. When I moved in, I didn't feel like I was moving in with total complete strangers. I felt like I was moving in with a cousin I haven't seen since I was 3. That's how you feel here. It's very natural.

Amy took me around the neighborhood after work. She showed me shops, supermarkets, fresh food stores, shoe stores, hood-rat clothes boutiques, bars, pizza joints, Chinese places. My favorite is the Falafel-Sushi place (I'll take a picture of it, haven't had a chance). I don't think I'll ever go there, unless I want to get H01 Gastroenteritis and commit suicide. But I just love the combination. It's also a sign, that you really got to make your money here and it's tough. It's so hard that you have to sell falafel and sushi together!!!!

We stopped by a bar called 181 Cabrini located on 181st and Cabrini (duh). The bar is gorgeous, reminded me a bars in Prague. Something like the upper floor of Coco by Staromestska. I ordered a cosmopolitan and mozzarella sticks. What I've received was the most fancy-schmancy plate of mozzarella sticks in my life.

I mean - do you see that??? It's amazing! And the cosmo? It was my first New York proper cosmopolitan people. After 10 years of dreaming about it through Sex and The City, it finally came. And it was delicious, swell, mind-blowing, sweet, smooth and it got you hammered. I don't even know how many I had but they just kept coming in. Remember me sipping my drinks for an hour? Nope, not with this baby. It's addictive. I couldn't stop. However that's not it. This hot cosmo isn't hot just by itself. It was hot because it's creator was hot. The bartender - Peter. The first New York man I fell in love with. And exactly my type - glasses, nose and small built. But, as life goes, he has a girlfriend. Moving on!

DAY 1

I arrived to my hotel (Hotel Broadway - 230 W. 101st St.) around 1 AM. I was exhausted after my 24 hour travel (cheap tickets) and was ready for bed. I had a private room arranged. If you go to the hotel's website, it looks very fancy schmancy and big. Well, it's close, but not fancy. They have one elevator for the entire hotel, the hallways are tiny and the room ... it's nice, no cockroaches or beds, but it's way smaller than on the pictures. My room was a wide as the bed was long. That is New York. The view was very New Yorky and I loved it.

I woke up 9 hours later excited to go to the city. My friends from PA came so we decided to meet for lunch. Before that, I had to get a new phone and my friend would help. My first ride on the subway awaited and I was nervous like a first grader going to school the first day. So I smoked my last European cigarette (bye bye blue Viceroys) and got in. I almost threw-up. And probably a few people did because it smelled like vomit. The station was dirty and a few wrappers were flying around. "How can this be?" I thought to myself. I'm in station located in the Upper East Side! It's supposed to made out of silver at least, no? Well hellll noooo. I got on the train. A friend of mine advised me to look normal, chill and cool, like I belong here. So I did. But I was slowly and cooly turning my head around so I could find a map. And when I did, I was lost.

As you can see, it is a jingle-jangle of lines, colors, numbers and letters. There is no "ukoncete prosim vystup a nastup" announcement as in Prague. Basically, the conductor yells out the station or mumbles it, doors burst open, people get in and get out, there's a beeeeep and the doors slam open. And hold on, the subways are fast. No laissez-faire "I-have-all-the-time-in-my-life". It's get to your place and get the fuck out.

I got out on Times Square, but took the 40th St. exit. The first thing I saw was a synagogue. "Yesss, I'm safe" I thought to myself. The city was surprisingly quiet and not packed. It was a Sunday, so maybe that's why. I met my friends and we walked around 5th and 6th Ave. between 34th and Madison Square Park. Seeing the Empire State Building was amazing and intimidating at the same time. It just stands there but it's so powerful. I instantly fell in love with it.

We also saw the Flatiron from across the street. It's just like in the pictures - elegant. Very posh and fits the street perfectly.

 

We decided to eat at a steakhouse. Mind you, I didn't have a proper American steak for 5 years and I needed one bad. It's not that there are no steaks in Prague, there are, but the taste just isn't the same. We chose an Irish pub/restaurant close to Hotel Pennsylvania on 33rd St. called "Stout NYC". It was a typical Irish pub and the food was amazing. I ordered a classic - New York Strip w/mashed potatoes and veggies. Food orgasm on the spot. Price? Not bad - 29 $ for the whole shabang. 

I've noticed one thing. And it's maybe because New York is called the Big Apple - almost every New Yorker has an iPhone. So guess what, I got one too. And it's beautiful and I love it.