Matthias Wapler exasperates the hell out of me sometimes. On the coach to NYC, as we settled down for the journey, he pulled out a book: Differential Geometry for Theoretical Physicists. All I could do was shake my head, speechless. Fine, he's a Berliner. Fine, he's about to start his PhD in string theory in the University of Waterloo near Canada. And fine, he did his undergraduate degree in Imperial College, THE ENEMY. All this I could forgive with my infinite well of mercy, but pulling out a maths textbook on a tour is pushing the limits.

Even as he lay in the bottom bunk of the tiny hostel room we were sharing in our first night in NYC, 1am in the morning (or night?), he was reading the damn textbook! I got the top bunk because Matt had dislocated his kneecap in a roller-blading accident a couple of weeks ago, and it was stifling in the non-air conditioned room. Outside was the street, and there were vehicles constantly rumbling by or people talking at (what seemed to me) the top of their voices. At least there was a police station a few buildings down across the street, which was a good thing, but that wasn't going to help me sleep. Eventually, a fitful slumber overtook me, as the city that never sleeps carried on outside.

The next morning, after we met up with the others outside the hostel (the Hispanic guys were, as usual, 30 minutes late), we went to grab breakfast at a little deli nearby. It was one of those little delis with a serving counter and a row of counter-style seats along the opposite wall. I sat at the edge of our group, and neat-looking, dark-haired man in shirtsleeves asked me, "Excuse me, but where are you guys from?". It's difficult not to notice that we're not from around, what with the Hispanics talking very loudly in Spanish. "We're from all over, but I'm from Malaysia", I answered. His eyes lit up and he said, "I was there for a couple of months last year", and he said that he was backpacking in the region. He then asked us what we were doing there, so I told them that we were summer students visiting from Baltimore. "Oh, are you guys working in Hopkins?" "No, we're at the Space Telescope Science Institute, which is in the area". His eyes lit up again and he said, "I'm a mathematician", and it was then that he showed me the book he was reading, which was by Kurt Godel, but the title was so abstruse I don't recall it. We chatted a couple of minutes more, and it turns out that he's a PhD student doing pure maths in Columbia University. An interesting encounter....

After we left, we walked a couple of blocks to the intersection with 5th avenue, where the Flatiron building was located. The Flatiron building is so-called because with its triangular shape, it resembles a really tall iron (the thing for ironing clothes, not the metal). After satiating our collective photographic needs, we took the subway to Grand Central Station, where Bonnie, Matthias and I had already visited the day before, but the rest haven't.

Inside the large hall of the station, I noticed Tom seating down at a corner rummaging through his things. Tom has one of those large SLR digital cameras, and out of all of us he's the resident photo-maniac, so for him not to go exercising his camera shutters was unusual. A few minutes later, he walked to us (or what remained of the group, as everyone seemed to have dispersed in search of photo opportunities), and solemnly announced, "I've lost my credit card". He had to go through the entire process of calling up his bank to cancel his card (and this was Sunday), while me and a couple of others went to round up the stragglers.

After leaving the station, we decided to walk to the United Nations Headquarters at the East River bank. Outside the blue-coloured building stood hundreds of empty flagpoles (we later learned that the member nations' flags are only displayed on weekedays). We went through the usual security checks and entered the building, and we decided to take the guided tour through the building. After a rather long wait, we were ushered into the tour by a Chinese lady. We were shown the Security Council, Trusteeship Council and General Assembly rooms (which were all empty for the weekend), and along the way the lady gave talked a bit on the role of the UN, its structure, history etc. It was very interesting to actually go into the Security Council and General Assembly rooms, where global politics happen everyday, and I found the guide's spiel pretty informative as well.

Walking away from the UN, we bumped into a street market stretching along 3rd Avenue, where traffic was sealed off and there were stalls selling food and miscellaneous junk. After a considerable amount of procrastination thanks to the Hispanics' insistence of taking pictures of everything, we grabbed a quick lunch at the foodstalls there, before Matthias, Bonnie and I peeled off to visit the Empire State Building.

The others were staying 4 nights in NYC: they left Baltimore on Friday evening, and they're only departing for it on Tuesday evening. Bonnie, Matthias and I are less eager to spend money and time in NYC, so we only came on Saturday morning and are leaving Monday evening. As the others were planning to visit Empire State Building only on Tuesday morning, it was decided to split the group so that Bonnie, Matthias and I could visit Empire State, before having a rendezvous at the west shore of the island for an evening cruise.

The Empire State Building looms over everything else in mid-town NYC, and it's currently the tallest building in Manhattan after the WTC towers were destroyed. The lobby downstairs had a very 1920s art-deco interior, reminding everyone as to the age of the building, a remarkable 73 years. We spent the next hour or so in queues before we finally got into the lift to the 87th floor observation deck. The observation deck is outdoors, and the railings at the edges were swarming with tourists eager to get a vantage point. The view of the entire island of Manhattan and beyond was simply stunning, and it's difficult to get a better appreciation of the size and density of the city in any other way. The entire island is simply packed with buildings, with numerous skyscrapers reaching for the sky. There's not much more I can do but to point you to my pictures.

At 6pm, we met up with the others at Pier 87 next to river, where we took a boat ride around the south end of the island and back. The cruise was crowded with people, but everyone was told to keep seated, so everyone had good views. Again, what I can say would make no justice to the sights of Manhattan by sunset. However, there was a guide giving a talk about some of the landmarks, and he also told us a bit about the history of New York city as the gateway for millions of immigrants from other lands seeking a new life. As we steamed by the Statue of Liberty, he gave us an account of the typical experiences of the immigrants arriving by sea at the city. As the light faded and the boat sailed back towards its pier with the Statue of Liberty getting smaller behind us, he concluded, "From everywhere, there has been someone who has passed through into New York City, and that's what makes it the greatest city in the world". Even though I'm a Londoner, I'm inclined to agree.

By the time we docked, it was past 9pm. There was this diner in Times Sq that Bonnie wanted to take us, but it was a considerably longer walk than the distance on the map suggested. We finally arrived at the Stardust Cafe, and we had to wait a while longer before they could seat the nine of us. The reason the restaurant was unusual was because the waiters and waitresses would take turn to sing through a microphone. Apparently this is was where wanna-be Broadway actors and actresses worked while awaiting their big break.

After dinner, it was almost 11pm, and Miguel wanted to take us to a jazz club, and we walked a considerable distance before he realised that he had completely misread the map and was taking us the wrong direction. We went to a subway station to try and take a train there, but we had to wait for over half and hour before the train arrived. By this time, Matthias and Raquel were saying that they weretired and wanted to return to the hostel, and I decided to retire as well...

To be continued...

  Manhattan island lies like a giant scar on the confluence of the Hudson and East rivers, with its very earth covered with spires and conurbations. The multitudes scurry like insignificant ants under the shadows of its edifices, a riot of colour and noise. 

  I sat next to the half-empty bus next to Bonnie, my head buried in my book as I tried to while away the four-hour ride from Baltimore to NYC. Suddenly, Bonnie nudged me and said, 'Look, there's downtown'. I looked up at the window and before me, across the Hudson River, stretched the skyscrapers of southern Manhattan across my entire field of view. It's a HUGE city...that's the first thing that struck me. The bus slowed down at the entrance to the Lincoln tunnel, which goes under the river to the city.

  After half-an-hour, we were buried in the NYC traffic. The streets look gritty and crowded with people. Eventually, we managed to crawl our way through. At around 1pm, Bonnie, Matthias and I were dropped off at the intersection in Broadway and 32nd St. The other interns had arrived last night, but the three of us weren't too eager to spend money for an extra night at the hostel, and elected to leave on Saturday morning instead. As we walked the dozen blocks or so towards the hostel, we walked by the poor inner city, which was crowded with new immigrants. I saw Africans whose accents showed that they were obviously newly arrived to the States, walked by Indian jewellery shops. The area was dirty and crowded, but there was a bustle to it that I've never experienced before, At one point, I whispered to Bonnie and Matthias that they seemed to be the only white people around. We got to our hostel at Chelsea borough without incident, and after checking in we set off to try and rendezvous with the others. Gara had told us that they'll be visiting the museums around Central Park in the afternoon.

  The NY subway is absolutely filthy. There was rubbish strewn about and puddles of what I hope were water at the staircase and entrance, but at least the trains were air-conditioned. It was $2 a ride, which was an absolute bargain compared with the London Tube. After a brief ride, we emerged from the station a couple of blocks from Central Park. Central Park is a huge rectangular chunk of greenery embedded inside Manhattan, the only sizeable park on the island. A lot of the museums, including the Natural History Museum and Natural History Museum seemed to be in or around Central Park. As the sheer size of Central Park and Manhattan in general hit us, we tried to send a text message to Gara (she had her Spanish phone and was roaming here) from Bonnie's phone, but with no luck. We wandered through Central Park, with what seemed like half of the city's denizens apparently deciding to either go jogging or cycling there that afternoon.

  Bonnie asked us if we wanted to go to a section of Central Park called Strawberry Fields. Both Matthias and I had never heard of it, and Bonnie was aghast, 'WHAT DO YOU MEAN you've never heard of Strawberry Fields? The Beatles have a song by that name...'. Well, we're physicists after all (later, it'll transpire that Tom had never heard of Strawberry Fields either). It turns out that there's a plaque dedicated to John Lennon there as well, and there was a busker sitting nearby screeching out Beatles songs, strumming along with his ancient-looking guitar. We continued to wind our way across the park, and as we approached the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the crowds started to thicken. Esteban had mentioned really wanting to visit the Met, so we decided to try out luck there. When we went into the lobby, the hordes of tourists and $7 entrance fee suggested that going in to look for them was pointless. It became obvious that trying to find them in the vastness of the city was utterly pointless, so we started to plot out our own sightseeing plans.

  After sitting at the steps of the Met to recover out breath, we decided to make our way down to Midtown, taking the subway to Grand Central Station, a large and imposing neo-Classical building to my untrained eyes.  Across the street loomed the Chrysler building, which was the tallest building in the world before the Empire State Building (apparently all the tallest buildings in the world were in NYC for about a century before Sears Tower in Chicago came up). We made our way through the bustle of the city to Rockefeller Centre, where the plaza was decked out with flags of the countries of the world, with the Rockefeller building looming over everything. In the plaza, there would be a skating rink during winter, and there were some garish golden statues and a self-congratulatory plaque with Rockefeller's philosophy.

  A couple of blocks away was the cathedral of St. Patrick, probably the largest and most notable churches in the Big Apple. St Patrick is of course the patron saint of Ireland, and a lot of New Yorkers are of Irish descent. Outside the cathedral, we glimpsed inside the magnificent and ornate interior, where a crowd was beginning to gather, presumably for Saturday evening Mass. As Bonnie puzzled over the map for our next destination, I noticed one thing about NYC traffic: most of the vehicles seem to yellow taxis. Later, as we walked by a few parking garages, the fact that most of them accept credit cards made it clear why most New Yorkers prefer not to drive.

  At around 6pm, after some wandering, we found ourself in the riot of bilboards and people that was Times Sq, where many of the theatres were located. The amount of traffic and people there was almost disorienting. After standing there like dummies for a while, we decided to get dinner, and Bonnie suggested TGI Friday's nearby. The food was overpriced, this being NYC, and fatty, this being the USA, but we filled ourselves up after a hard day's sightseeing.

  After dinner, Gara still hadn't responded to any of Bonnie's messages or calls, so we had to figure out how to spend the evening before hopefully meeting up with the others at the hostel. It turned out that there was a comedy club at the basement below where the restaurant we ate, and since the entrance fee was only 10 bucks, we decided to go for it. There was a series of standup comedians scheduled to do their act, and the first guy was the quasi-MC. He came up on stage and started to ask the audience about where they were from, what they were doing in NYC etc, and then proceeded to make fun of everyone, before introducing the other comedians to do their act. The humour was definitely adult, and there was no holding back as far as expletives and sexual content was concerned. I was mildly surprised at all the f-words being thrown about, and the couple of times when the comedian thrust his hips back and forth when talking about sex. There was this guy who came up and started making political jokes about Bush, and when he didn't get his expected audience response, he started to flounder very obviously, and I didn't find him very funny, but felt sorry for him. My favorites were this black guy who did a few hilarious skits about his Mexican neighbour, Indian tourists being detained by police and his girlfriend's cat which was apparently permanently on heat. The other good one was this bloke with huge sideburns and manic, staring, eyes, and he was so absolutely wound up that it was totally hilarious. 

  When the show ended, it was 10.30pm. We got out into Times Sq, and the place was still crowded. We found out that Virgin Megastore there closed only at 2am, so we went in there and hung out for a while. At around midnight, we decided to return to the hostel and try and leave a note for our missing comrades. As we walked towards the entrance of the hostel after taking the subway, I spied from afar a lanky red figure which looked extremely familiar. Esteban!

  The other interns were outside the hostel entrance, and we rushed together and started swapping stories. Apparently they were about to start knocking at our doors, and for most of the day we seemed to be one step ahead or behind each other. They were at the Natural History Museum around the same time we were outside, and they even ate at the TGI Friday's while the three of us were downstairs watching the comedy show!

  The Hispanic guys, nutters that they are, wanted to drag us out again for clubbing, but most of us were so exhausted that we decided against it. So, apart from Miguel, Rafa and Esteban who merrily went out again, the rest of us retired for the night....

To be continued....

...and the pics from the trip are here , in the meantime...