#jbinnyc

Guest Star Wednesdays: Donna Mayberry

The introduction of Donna, whom I just now realized looks and sounds like Maria Bamford character.

I'm writing this on a plane to Reykjavik, Iceland. No, that's not one of the five cities, but as I realized a couple days ago when I looked at my itinerary, I booked my flight to London through Iceland. Slightly strange and inconvenient, true, but I'm assuming it was cheaper and at this point it's better for me to just go with the flow. In fact, that's my goal for the remainder of my trip; just adapt, adapt, adapt to whatever situation I'm thrown into. 

The rest of my stay in New York was action-packed, exciting, and exhausting, as the city tends to be. The weekend rolled around, which of course meant that I went out on the town- Friday night, my friend took me to a place called The Jane, which is a hotel/nightclub notorious for surly, overly-discerning bouncers who frequently turn people away for no obvious reason (I'm assuming because they're ugly or old). Thankfully for our egos, we got in. Like every bar or club in New York, it felt like everyone there was really cool and stylish, and were all friends with each other. And then there was us.

I've noticed it's very important for New Yorkers- at least the douchey ones- to make sure you're aware that they are rich, well-connected, and in the know. When I visited in May, everyone kept casually mentioning their Hamptons summer house ("you've just got to come with us some time"). At The Jane, a guy I was chatting with (wingman-style, for my friend) informed me that he did coke in the bathroom with Mary Kate Olson the last time he was there. Then the Jay-Z song "Tom Ford" came on, and he leaned over and said, "What if I told you the shirt I'm wearing is Tom Ford?". I most definitely laughed in his face and told him I didn't give a shit.

I know there are people like that everywhere- I get it. But based on my unscientific sociological study of going to clubs and bars and talking to the natives, L.A. and New York have a disproportionate amount. Now, I think it's great to have drive, to have a hustle, to have goals. But talking about it just cheapens it if you ask me. I'd rather talk to an interesting, broke person any day of the week.

One thing I'm really happy I was able to do before I left New York was check out Coney Island. I found out that my grandparents met there in 1939-they were on a double date, just not with each other. Since I technically wouldn't exist were it not for this place, I had to see it! We dragged ourselves out of bed Sunday and hopped on a Brooklyn-bound train. 

It being October, and the weather having turned dreary over the weekend, Coney Island was pretty deserted. We ate at the landmark Nathan's (birthplace of the hotdog- I nearly had one, but last week's food poisoning incident was just too fresh in my memory) and strolled the empty boardwalk. It was almost like visiting the set of an old movie- it's truly a relic. If I really tried, I could imagine my grandparents there so long ago, during the summer, when the sun was out and the beach packed. 

On our way back to Manhattan, we stopped at Prospect Park, which is also in Brooklyn. It's really beautiful…it was nice to be in nature again, after a week of so much asphalt and crowds. We came across a man who seemed either drunk, insane, or both, who had lit an illegal fire by the lake. He was waving around a stick, and said he was trying to put the fire out, but really it looked like he was trying to spread it. In any case, a woman nearby informed us she had called the fire department, and although we didn't stick around to find out, I feel confident that they arrived in time to save the park from burning to the ground. Very bizarre.

New York is incredible. There is nothing like it. But I'm happy to be on my way…like I said before, I don't have it in me to be a New Yorker. I'm too much of a hippie, and I like sleeping too much. I've realized the "fast-paced life" I think I live in San Francisco is child's play for New York…which is fine with me. 

So here's my New York, City #1 recap:

Weather: summer when I arrived, fall over the weekend, and winter today when I left (it was raining). Even the weather man…constantly on the go here.

Favorite place(s) visited: Battery Park, Coney Island

Best meal: Late night friend pickles and mac and cheese at Cafeteria (a restaurant that also has a bouncer, who almost turned us away)

Life is sweet...albeit a little sweaty, since it's 80 degrees...here in the Big Apple. I'm still in awe of everything I see, which surprises me. I live in a major metropolis (San Francisco) and I'm relatively well-traveled- this isn't even my first time to New York. Still, as I'm seeing these iconic sights for the first time (Times Square, Grand Central Station, Rockefeller Center) it's almost dizzying- my eyeballs just can't take in all there is to see!

One thing I wasn't expecting was the heat- I didn't pack for it, so I had no choice but to do a little shopping the other day. Problem is, the stores I visited had already cleared out their Summer inventory so I had to get whatever was available for Fall, but still cool enough for the weather. That ended up being a skort (Google it) from Aritzia- I haven't rocked a skort since I was about 6, but it's really growing on me.

I've been sightseeing alone-in my skort- since my NY friends work (a LOT)- it's new to me, but it's actually more fun than I expected. Every day I wake up at about 11 AM (let's just attribute that to jet lag rather than laziness), getting coffee, and deciding on the fly what I feel like doing. Then I put my earbuds in and hit the streets.

Today I even navigated the subway on my own, AND sat down for a meal in a restaurant alone. That's something I've always felt strange about- it's a pretty common insecurity I think, but it always felt like people would pity me and wonder why I had no friends to eat with. Today though, I was sent on a mission by a special someone back home to try the burger at JG Melon on the Upper East Side, so it was the perfect opportunity to face my fears.

I literally walked about twenty blocks to get to this place, and by the time I arrived I honestly just wanted to sit down so badly I didn't care much about feeling awkward. And then I sat there by myself, read my book, people-watched, and ate. One guy a table over looked at me curiously but it didn't matter. Oh, and the burger was definitely worth the walk.

In a Bay Area dialect-specific word…HELLA! Today is the first official day of my vacation, which is less so a "vacation" in the sipping margaritas on the beach sense of the word, but more of an adventure; a 'quest' if you will. Or, as many friends are fond of calling it, my 'Eat, Pray, Love" trip. More on why this is not that in a bit. I think it's important to first explain how I got here.

A few months ago, I was feeling overwhelmed. I had finally reached a point in my life where I was happy with my career, living situation, social life, and most importantly, myself (and THAT took quite some time to achieve…like my whole life thus far). I had finally figured out what I needed to feel consistently good (I won't bore you with the details, but it's basically a new-agey combination of exercise, meditation, nutrition, and creative expression-soooo California of me). Great, right? The problem is, I didn't have time to do those things. 

I don't really know why I over-schedule my life. I think it's partially because I'm a very social person with a strong sense of obligation to friends and family, and also it's a remnant of a fear of free time and being alone that plagued me all through my early twenties. Whatever the case, it had gotten to the point that every second of my weeks and weekends were scheduled in advance. Please know that I understand this is not an awful problem to have, and I'm incredibly lucky that people even want to employ me/hang out with me…it's just that crucial balance of "me time" vs. everything else was missing. 

I called my sister Colleen, and told her how I felt, and that really I just wanted to get out of my bubble and shake things up, and she came up with the awesome idea of me taking some time off work to travel. By myself. In my family, something like this is not that unheard of. I have two very independent, brave sisters who travel or move to other countries solo at the drop of a hat. It's just that up until now, I'd never traveled alone, unless for work, or even considered it. My reaction to traveling alone was the standard female response : "I could never do that".

Then I realized that is incredibly stupid, and if I can buy the ticket and book the trip, then I can go. So I started thinking about where I wanted to go, and for how long. I started with 5 weeks and about 8 cities, but realistically that was just going to be a bit much, so I ended up with 3 weeks and 5 cities: New York, London, Barcelona, Prague and Milan. And that is how I ended up here, now, in New York City. As it turned out, even though I'm traveling alone, I have friends (some new, some old) in each of these cities…amazing how that worked out. 

Oh right...why this is not "Eat, Pray, Love" and I'm far from Elizabeth Gilbert...well, to start, nobody is paying me to go on a narcissistic quest for self-acceptance (that would be awesome). Second of all, I'm not running away from anything. In fact, life has been so damn sweet recently that I'm just as excited to come home as I was to leave...and I can't believe how lucky I am to be able to say that. 

This morning, I woke up in my friend's SoHo apartment to sunny, 80 degree weather and a completely open agenda. Amazing feeling.

I headed off on foot downtown, because I heard that the World Trade Center Memorial was incredible. The walk from SoHo was a little bit long, but when you're walking down Broadway in New York City on a beautiful day, who cares? New Yorkers have to be among the most interesting people to observe…they all appear to be going somewhere really important and even though they size you up as you walk past them, it's not judgmental- they don't give a shit about you as long as you stay out of their way. And you should stay out of their way, otherwise you will literally get trampled on the sidewalk. I've made a note to work on my aggressive walking skills while I'm here, because I'd rather be a trampler than a tramplee. 

After Google Maps took me on the most zig-zag route possible to my destination, I finally found the entrance to the Memorial. I really had no idea what to expect, but wow, was it powerful. What's been created so far (it's still under construction) is basically a park, and where the Twin Towers stood before, there are now two huge pools. "Pools" is the biggest understatement ever…it's hard to describe in writing, but it's beautiful and alive and invokes the emotions it's intended to, that's for sure. I didn't photograph the pools because my iPhone just wouldn't have done them justice. I did, however, get a picture of the "Survivor Tree"…the only non-Oak tree in the Memorial, it's a Pear tree that lived at the World Trade Center for decades prior to the attacks. The tree was found, uprooted in the rubble after 9/11. Against all odds, the tree was re-planted and flourished, hence the name. 

I met a New Yorker today who dislikes the Memorial- he thinks that the Twin Towers should have simply been rebuilt as they were, to demonstrate that the attacks will have no long-term effect on the U.S. To me, this is completely ridiculous and misses the entire point. Like any other tragedy, misfortune or discomfort, denying it's existence only prolongs healing and recovery (Buddhism 101). We can't pretend 9/11 never happened, but we can and should honor the victims.

Even though I wasn't planning on it, I stumbled upon Battery Park on my walk home. To my pleasant surprise (I seriously did zero research before this trip), Battery Park looks out onto the New York Harbor- you can even see the Statue of Liberty! There's something about standing on the edge of a city and looking out on the water that I've always loved. It's almost like you can feel the centuries of history that took place in that very spot you're standing. It gives me chills thinking about it. If I lived here, I think I would visit that park all the time, and sit on the benches and watch the ferries come and go.

If you can't tell, I'm falling in love with New York. No, this doesn't mean I'm going to move here…but I'm going to visit this city as many times as I possibly can. There is so much life, so much history, so much heart. There's an East Coast quality that just can't be found in California…it's the accents, the food, the attitude…all of it! Let's just say, I understand why two of my dear friends from San Francisco uprooted their entire lives to move here. I'm going to soak up as much as I can in the next few days.

xoxo