My mum is sprawled out asleep in her new clown-like pyjamas pants while Han waddles around picking up things. All these single beds make me feel like I'm in a dorm. But if I were in a real dorm like I will be in a couple of months, my roommates would probably be bouncing on the beds and breezing in and out gabbing at the top of their lungs, making about five times as much noise. I foresee hiding in the library a lot.

This morning, I went out with my mum to buy breakfast from a deli next-door to Chinatown Square. It was very late, about 11, so it was actually brunch. New York is still a whirlwind of frantic activity and the deli was no exception. It has both Chinese and Latino owners and they get along in swimming disharmony. The Chinese cashier - a sharp-as-a-whip, elegant woman I would not want to get on the bad side of - deftly organized our order while she placated/pouted/death-stared at the Latino chef. He was like "No, no, later" (in response to fetching goods for her or something along those lines) and she was all "Pleeaaase, please", then she gave up, glinted frozenly, and suddenly started laughing. A Latino guy carried a pile of tupperware by, teasing a Chinese co-worker on the way, and she swiftly swerved around and aimed a kick at his ankle.

We wolfed down our omelette, potatoes and pancakes (V GOOD) and flew to Penn Station to brave the subway for the first time. In actuality, it's not that confusing, after we argued over the maps for a bit. Once on the train, everything goes in supreme quick motion. The subways clatter from station to station in a blink - zoom, bang, click, finish. Then the voice over the intercom starts reminding us, every few seconds, in a lazy Lower East Side drawl, to switch to the first five carriages if we wish to alight at South Ferry as the doors don't open in the second half of the train there! We were just gaping and going "Why? Why?" before my mum started dragging us through doors, the carriages rattling like an elephant with a migrane, dashing in and out to get to the front of the train. Very Men in Black 2 or Spiderman 2, but Doc Ock did not smash the windows, and no alien creature shot out of the tunnel to have us for tea.

South Ferry station opens onto Battery Park and a children's playground. I wanted to join the kids on the swings. Instead, we took a long walk alongside the Hudson River. There are many makeshift stores on the way to the ferry to Liberty Island and Ellis Island. They sell kitschy NY/Statue of Liberty/Freedom and Rights etc. etc. related merchandise. A guy in sunglasses and grey-green paint wears a crown and dress and carries a torch, adjusting the crates he is perched on that are not quite hidden by the long skirt. What shocks me is that he succeeds in astonishing tourists into taking his picture. I am beginning to think Americans will dress up as anything.






The line to the ferry winds a long way, with entertainers making full use of this opportunity to earn tips. An ultra-skinny African American fellow with Bob Marley hair, decked out in bumblebee-striped tights and hat, performs contortionist stunts. He stuffs himself into a glass cube and rolls out, among other things. "You Chinese?" he asks with a smile when I tip him. "Xie xie!" Smart man. A violinist strolling around starts playing a very familiar tune when I tell him I am from Singapore. "What's that?" I ask blurly. Han tells me I am atrocious and that it is our national anthem. To think I'd forgotten it simply after not singing it for half a year.





Frankly, the Statue of Liberty was not altogether interesting. It is a very familiar yet alien symbol to us, a gift from France to America as a reminder of the two countries' shared belief in freedom, blah blah blah. Or so it says in one of the guidebooks. (It's good I don't take history anymore; I think I would write like that all the time, airhead-style, slaying the teacher.) The island was particularly sunny and windy. I saw at least three organized groups visiting the statue - one a bunch of schoolkids, around 11-13 years old, who stood on ferry benches to gawk and argue about Liberty's gender ("It's male," "No, it's female, you dumbhead!" "It's transexual!") I am also very tired of SOL merchandise after about two seconds there. We were in a perfect position to examine the Manhattan skyline and the conspicuous absence of its tallest buildings. We considered visiting the WTC site but decided that there's something really gratuitous about going to take photos of those blank spots.


Seamus, Charlie and unidentified Weasley brother? Your guess







After more shuttling about in the subway, we emerged in Times Square. The whole place blinks, flashes and soars fiercely storey after storey so high into the sky you can't really see the sky unless you look directly above you. Broadway posters are everywhere, and gigantic preview posters of Batman Begins and Star Wars Episode 3 - wait. We are on Broadway. In fact, we accidentally find the Amsterdam Theatre, where we are to go to for The Lion King on Sunday.






Only due to mum's excellent map-reading skills, we move from 42nd to 44th Street and find the MTV store, which has some funny stuff, like this Newlyweds- inspired tee.

They are playing TRL on screens all over the store, while the sales assistants lean against the counter, idly debating No.1 contenders. A hulk with SECURITY on the back of his shirt glowers every time I step near the pimped-out MTV car in the glass window, so sorry, no picture.



We cross the street to visit the Toys 'R' Us. We then meet this slow-witted, life-size T-Rex, Geoffery the Giraffe and M&Ms in Darth Vader hats. They don't need to do that. Sliding on (we keep on RUNNING everywhere, mum's logic being that's what New Yorkers do, and if we stroll it'd be obvious we're tourists, making all the pickpockets and con artists rob us blind. As if it's not obvious enough as it is, us carrying bagfuls of coats and unfurling maps on every corner).






The Virgin Megastore looms out of nowhere, and we plunge in. I have never seen a more complete collection anywhere else. The international movie section actually has enough variety to divide everything into countries. We find Y Tu Mama Tambien and Before Night Falls for excellent DVD prices, and there we were, doing victoy dances around the shelves. Then Radio City Music Hall - the marquee says, Alanis to perform in June, guest artist being Jason Mraz. And the events board reveals sad truth that U2 will be performing at Madison Square Garden on the day we leave. OH FINE.





Two stops down - we alight to find Macy's and walk to 7th Avenue to find our hotel, then to a nearby Chinese restaurant from the back entrance and do takeout 'cos they're almost closed. On the way we see a young blonde man sitting on the steps of a brownstone, holding a cardboard that reads, "Need food and train fare. Please help. God bless you" while scarfing down takeout someone soft-hearted must have given him. My mum was skeptical and towed us on as usual, never believing a word - if he were for real? Had he had all belongings stolen, why couldn't he go to the police, or was he just running? I can't imagine. And not stopping, not wanting to hear his story, not wanting to be taken in. It's cold.