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5 October 2007

Home, Sweet Home

Well, not really, but the more time I spend here, the more time the Big Apple is starting to feel like home. It says a lot really when a scummy, shared dorm room in an Upper West Side hostel feels more home-like than my house in Nowheresville, and now I have a room to myself for the first time in weeks, the effect is amplified.

I spent yesterday downtown in SoHo and the Village: wandering through Washington Square Park, drinking fabulous coffee and watching the world go by at Joe on Waverly Place, browsing books at Three Lives and Co., shopping at Flight 001 (and chatting with the sales assistant about the sad demise of Frijtz in San Francisco), buying some emergency shoes when my flipflops broke, meeting up with Subway Dude in the Village and trying to avoid a woman who claimed to be a former flamenco dancer and that she was friends with Bob Dylan (and then proceeded to cut up her shirt), and then dinner at Cafe Condesa in the West Village.

Today was more of the same: shopping, caffeinating, wandering, writing, reading, chilling (something, I have discovered, I am not very good at), thinking (something I should probably do less) and just enjoying the (Indian) summer in the city. Last night, tonight, before returning to crappy old England. Still, I have a whole day tomorrow before flying back tomorrow at 10 in the evening and, as I said, I am back in two weeks, so it could be worse.

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