America - a pictorial

A few favourites from my collection of pics from the US.

Ash on our stoop, St Marks Avenue, Brooklyn

Quote from the Martin Luther King Jr memorial, Washington DC

Bruno hamming it up at Prospect Park

Fave restaurant in Brooklyn. Best Mexican ever

Money birthday cake

... and the birthday celebrant, Kevin the entrepreneur with daughter

View from our rowboat, Central Park, wedding anniversary

Thanksgiving in New York

During my first Thanksgiving in the US, I set aside my usual cynicism about retailers using the holidays to boost revenue.

A wise man once said: If you’re not a socialist at twenty, you have no heart. If you’re not a capitalist by the time you’re thirty, you have no brain.

Inflation night with cousin Thea, in front of Tim Burton's balloon

Well into my thirties, I embraced my inner capitalist and kickedoff the holiday by hotfooting it to West 77th Street in Manhattan, where inflation night was underway. No, this is not when the Reserve announceskey economic data, which would hardly be a cause for celebration. It’s a New York tradition to witness the spectacular balloons take shape the night before the Thanksgivingparade. What fun! How surreal to see an oversized Snoopy, smurf and Spiderman lined up on the street, noses on the concrete, as if they were getting their beauty sleep before the big day.

The first balloon on the parade is emblazoned with the logo of Macy’s, the department store that has sponsored the parade since the 1920s, when the retail sector was going gangbusters. For a foreigner, it’s one of many elements of Thanksgiving lore that inextricably link the holiday to consumerism.

The origin of Thanksgiving is mooted, but it is generally agreed that celebrations were held by both the Native Americans and Pilgrims to celebrate a good harvest. During the Depression, Franklin D Roosevelt moved the date of Thanksgiving earlier for the benefit of retailers, giving them a longer lead time to Christmas. (Back then it was considered distasteful for stores to market Christmas before Thanksgiving.) The public generally disapproved of the change, and the day became known mockingly as Franksgiving. The people won and the date was restored to the fourth Thursday of November.

Around two-thirds of the United States’ gross domestic product comes from retail spending. No wonder marketers are so innovative andcompetition so cutthroat here. The retail sector has learned to work within thetime limits and milk the holiday for what it’s worth. The day after Thanksgiving is branded Black Friday, when prices are slashed by as much as 70 per cent. Then there’s Cyber Monday, when shoppers are encouraged to shop online. Presumably we’re all exhausted from the cardio exercise gained from physically traipsing through the mall on Black Friday, so we resort to the Internet.

The shopping frenzy in fact began late on Thursday night. Atthis point the dining table had been cleared, friends and family who haven’t seen each other in months have had a chance to catch up. Time to walk off the feastand get ready for the next holiday on the assembly line … Christmas shopping! Most stores opened at midnight, though some tried to get the edge on their competitors by opening at eleven.

I question the extreme measures of retailers (who cut prices below cost but only for a limited number of items) and shoppers (who elbow each other out of the way to claim the last bargain-priced flat screen TV), but as an avid consumer I appreciate the benefits of consumerism on steroids. Being in the US during the holiday season is a feast for the senses. Shopping in my local grocery store is like being in Homer Simpson’s shoes when he dreamed about being in a land of chocolate and sweets. Never have I seen such a variety of upscale, fresh, gourmet groceries at reasonable prices. I am gaining a few kilos not necessarily from eating bad but from trying the mindboggling range of food, glorious food.

The master chefs - Ash, Ann and Lenie

My New York family – my cousins who in fact lived on the same street as me, an era ago in Manila – went to impressive lengths to make Thanksgiving special for their extended family. The sit-down dinner for fifteen people featured the necessary centerpiece, the turkey. I’m not much of a meat-eater so, for me, the sides and desserts deservedly stole the limelight from the bird. On the menu were: pumpkin soup, sautéed mushrooms, steamed beans and asparagus, salad with artichokes and leaves, brussel sprouts with bacon, brie ,yams with marshmallow sauce, roast potatoes, macaroni salad, French bread, Italian bread, pannetone, pineapple upside down cake, chocolate dipped strawberries, poached pears, apple pie, pecan pie and mini-cupcakes.

And yes, I did top it off with some bargain shopping last Friday. My best buy – a Diane von Furstenberg trolley bag for seventy bucks.

As a fan of American-style consumerism, I hope that, especially for the sake of the ‘99 per cent’, the December quarter economic figures get a healthy boost from the retail sector, to help stave the US from a still-dreaded double-dip recession. Strong spending in the previous quarter put retail sales data firmly in positive territory. Fingers crossed it stays that way.

Gangsta grandma on the subway, loco at the White House

Rich, me and Ash at the Lincoln Memorial, near the White House. A few days later, shots were fired at the White House.

‘I’m packing lead in here,’ the elderly woman said to the younger one, her face set in a snarl. Gangster grandma rummaged through her handbag as if she were looking for a gun. She had plopped down next to me.  I couldn’t help myself. Curiouser and curiouser … I peered down. All I could see were tissues stuffed into a side pocket. She didn’t unzip the main section of her bag all the way. She may have been bluffing.  But then again …

The younger woman was unperturbed. ‘I’m gonna respect you ‘cos you old,’ she said from across the aisle. ‘But next time you better watch where you’re going. And you’d better watch where I’m going too.’

They traded insults like this until the 2 train from Brooklyn reached Wall Street. I kept looking at the woman’s bag, which she held tightly on her lap. She continued to hold her palm open over one lumpy section of it, as if she were indeed making sure she knew the exact location of her gun. Judging from the creases on her face, she was at least sixty. A fashionable one at that, with chunky gold earrings, shades, skinny jeans and ankle boots. The other woman was dressed in the same way. They could’ve been mother and daughter.

Our fellow passengers ignored the conversation as if it were white noise. Not knowing what to do, I tried to appeal to the passenger sitting across from me, communicating silently, now what? Do I get up from my seat so I’m not in the line of fire? Pretend like nothing’s happening, like everyone else? He was sitting next to the younger woman so was in a similarly precarious situation. Unlike me, he was nonchalant. Just another day on the subway.

I chose herd mentality over panic. I tried to relax and decided to stare at the map overhead, a line of dots showing the stops of the 2 train line. I consciously avoided the shaded eyes of both women, struck by the irrational fear that they might collectively direct their anger at me. Images of the two women whipping out guns out of their streetwear handbags and shooting me, execution style, flitted in and out of my mind. Alert and observant, I realised I was the lone Asian in the carriage until the train arrived at Wall Street, when finance workers embarked. That fact probably made me stand out as a target for at least five minutes. Yikes.

I was jumpier than normal because only the day before, on my way home from the supermarket, I walked past a couple of kids who, from a distance, appeared to be goofing around. Then one drew a sharpened wooden stake up against the other’s neck. Where did that come from, I thought. That boy must have brought that weapon with him. It’s premeditated. They’re not just two hyperactive kids jostling each other. I passed them hurriedly, not wanting to interfere and risk having that stake pointed in my direction.    

These random acts of violence in fact happened about two weeks ago. Since then, I’ve had to pack up my place in Brooklyn (the sublease expired), spent a week in Washington DC and moved into my new place in the Upper East Side. Yes, the two events contributed to my decision to move to a safer neighbourhood in Manhattan. Also the apartments in the hip areas in Brooklyn are ridiculously overpriced, and I have to go to Brooklyn for work anyway, so can still hang with my new friends there. So why not live in a nabe where it’s overpriced for reasons more substantial and diverse than proximity to awesome bars?

On more current events, the number one news item today is a loco with a Spanish name and a tattoo on his neck that spells out Israel has been arrested. He’s suspected of shooting at the White House last week, using an AK-47. As I said, we just visited DC last week.  My husband and I caught up with our buddy Rich, a DC local and ex-military guy. We also made friends with an Air Force veteran who now works at the Pentagon. (We met him and his wife at a bar in the Willard Hotel, a stone’s throw away from the White House.  Interesting side note: lobbyists used to meet with government higher-ups in the hotel’s lobby, to do their wheeling and dealing, and Washingtonians believe this is how the term lobbyist was coined.) Our friends’ combined knowledge on the security detail around government buildings is impressive. Besides which, I saw firsthand how the Secret Service make their presence felt around the White House grounds. There’s nothing secret about it. Only crazies would try anything stupid.

So. Whether you’re in the high-security surrounds of the White House or on the New York subway or above ground on the gritty streets, the threat of violence is real and imminent in the US. There’s nowhere to hide.

Suddenly, to me, Australia, with its less liberal gun laws, seems the more attractive country to live in. Of course, it doesn’t have the Guggenheim where I saw what I thought was the most original jazz/dance/boxing production last Sunday, nor will my husband run into Matthew Broderick while getting a coffee in Sydney, or see Samuel L Jackson on stage; not to mention experiences like a real autumn when the trees display the boldest shades of burnt oranges and reds, and Salvation Army workers dancing to Feliz Navidad on the footpaths (with bells on!). Sydney doesn’t have the New York Society Library which runs tours for the public (hooray for bibliophiles), authentic Mexican food, Central Park, Prospect Park, red velvet cake, a real 24-hour news cycle that makes news addictive (I feel sorry for Sky News at home, which scrapes the bottom of the barrel and constantly recycles news), an upcoming election that matters on the world stage, moving orations carved in marble … these are a few of my favourite things …