Yeah, yeah, yeah, mister grandmother. So this isn't a blog, I have proven that. Nevertheless I will now update you on a whole bunch of things I have done since I stepped on this American soil for the first time in nine years. It will be a heap, hurdle, bunch, list, chaotic mess or whatever you want to call it, but information it is, and true as well. Apparently I have started stealing, but I still don't lie all that much.
First some facts out of context: At Easter I visited my old host family in Texas, and it was great! It felt like coming home, and certainly not like it had been nine years since we last saw each other. I have been on a date with an actor from New Orleans and we ate mufongo (some crazy Puertorican dish), and even though he was nice I decided not to go on a second date with him (let's not risk awkward kissing when it's not wanted). I have bought a bike that is very pretty, but uncomfortable. It has a banana seat and is blue with strategically placed flowers. My friend Elisabeth and her boyfriend Finn have visited me (thanks for being good people!). I was sick with the flu and colds before and after for more than three weeks in the beginning of my stay here. I have joined New York Sports Club and actually worked out there. I have seen The Color Purple on Broadway and been to the Metropolitan Opera twice.
First I lived i Bushwick/East Williamsburg - where Hipsters meet G's in Brooklyn. There I had windows and a closet made to fit giants, but a regular size bed that hurt my back. After a while I found it more reasonable relocating, even though I didn't want to leave my roommates and the area I had gotten to know. There were stores with healthy food there, graffiti on the roof, piano rehearsals in the living room, cocktails for any occasions, a café in the building and a library I frequented (and ended up owing $79 due to unfortunate conditions after having left books, DVD-s and CD-s for my old roommates to turn in, which they forgot to do). Living in an old sewing factory is not for everyone, especially not for those of us who get ill when the indoor temperature is below 15 degrees Centigrade and don't need cat hair in their system. Crying in a cab I left for West Harlem where I now reside.
I now live with Victoria who is never home, and for the four last days I haven't been either. I have stayed in East Harlem with Martha, Gisken, Sigrun and Helle, originally because I was to go with Martha to an exotic place to do research for her final exam in Photo Journalism, but after that it was just such a nice place to stay (even though they hardly ever brought me breakfast in bed... Thanks for the cheese dip and chips, Sigg.) and I just kept on sleeping over. Nice thing to do after all these years of serious need-to-get-home-and-sleep-in-my-own-bed-business. We have eaten out at a fantastic Mexican place twice, gone to the exotic place I will tell you about when Martha has gotten her exam back, eaten Senegalese food with Gisk on 116th street (yummy!), shopped panties on hangers, cheese with cumen/caraway (karve), eaten ice cream, seen a few films (Atonement and Dr. Strangelove), eaten duck in sweet sauce, gone to the house of a family Martha interviewed in Brooklyn, received free whisky-drinks at a BK-bar where I stole toy soldiers from the counter and plastic shot glasses with a rope to hang around your neck for easy access when in need of a shot. I also stole a bucket from somebody's artpiece, but I found it most important to use it as a hat (you can also give people the finger through the bottom of it).
Today I have not yet studied for my three final exams coming up, but I have sat in Central park contemplating. I don't fully understand why it is we must leave New York. This summer will be spent working in a dark bar earning money for my next escapades abroad. What a life I lead. Remember that I want to live peacefully on the countryside when I grow up. Later I will tell you more about what I have done here in NY, what I wish to do before I leave, what I will be doing on our trip to Florida and whatever I feel like, GOSH.
