New York, New York As Gaelige

So I got to Poughkeepsie and did the interview which will by now have gone out on the air although there doesn't seem to be a podcast and i'm not sure anyone who I know heard it. In fact, as it turns out, the interview was going out on a community college station run by students of Vassar College, one of the seven (?) sister colleges of female only colleges in the northeastern region of the United States of America. As Denis Johnston, my grandfather, was a lecturer at another one, Mount Holyoke in Northampton, Massacheusetts, it was interesting for me to see the college. In fact, Scott and I weren't able to get into the college to record the interview so it was recorded in his car. However, my hosts that night David and Susan both work in the college and he had some time the following morning to take me on a quick tour of the campus. Another lovely Spring day allowed for a very pleasant walk, taking in the beautiful 1860 buildings financed by local rich businessman Matthew Vassar who had made large amounts of money in the brewing industry and wanted to give something back to the area. He was encouraged that the perfect way to do this would be to found a girls' college. The grounds are lovely, particularly the original buildings and their modern extensions which are sensitively done. Other more modern areas of the campus are less well thought out and although you wouldn't want to constantly revisit the past I can't help feeling that someone or ones dropped the ball. David and Susan were very generous with their time and dropped me to the train at about noon and I made my way back into Manhattan with the "rocksack" and, despite Mary Coit having given me directions from elsewhere in the city, found her flat pretty easily, much easier than the previous day with all it's stress and strain.

Mary Coit, for those of you who don't know, was one of my grandfather's students at Mount Holyoke, babysat for my uncles and has stayed in contact with the family ever since. She insists I stay with her when I'm in NYC and I'm always glad to take up the offer. (This time around, i slightly threw her a curve ball and added an extra day at her flat which she very graciously agreed t). In exchange, I give her lots of family gossip and allow her to flex her career-guidance muscle which she enjoys doing in the form of asking difficult questions and dishing out advice, not because she has any special insight, but rather that it gives her an opportunity to tell you her opinion. She lost no opportunity to tell me what she thought and most of the time her comments were very perceptive and wise and when they weren't she listened to my replies and considered it carefully. Every opportunity was taken right down to "final words of wisdom" this morning at 8am. She also prefaced each "session" with a cup of tea just to make sure I wasn't going anywhere. She also has an excellent sense of humor which is just as well as she's probably reading this. If she is, she'll also know that I'm not doing the homework (or, rather, buswork) which she has set me as I'm writing this. I will put my mind to it, Mary, I promise.

I love New York but I do have problems with it. Most notable is lefts and rights when I'm in that city. I find myself going uptown instead of downtown, on streets instead of avenues and the most desperate of these occurrences seem to be on corners. I don't know why - it just happens to me.

After the first Mary Coit "cup of tea", I spotted that, as I was suddenly in NYC a day early, Niall and Laura from London (i played at their wedding last year) are in town. I saw on Facebook that they were in Tiffany "pretending to be rich" so after a few mails back and forth, we arranged to meet on the rooftop garden of 230 5th Avenue for a drink which turned into a light dinner before they headed for their flight home. Always good company. Thought about catching some jazz on the way home. The Jazz Standard on 27th and Park is my Favourite jazz club in NYC, more so than the better-known ones, was on my way home, and was hosting a very promising gig by a tenor saxophonist both Thursday and Friday. However, after my calamari and chips (sorry, fries - made that mistake in Boston), I had $8 left of my initial wallet that I had brought so, a little sobered by that, and wrecked too, I decided to go the following night after a trip to the ATM (in daylight). On the way home, I did come across Fitzgeralds' Pub, a very un-Irish-pubby Irish pub on 3rd Avenue. They were showing the Baseball match (I think) and I came in and had a Coke and had a chat with Conor, the barman from Cabra. We talked about the rugby match but they weren't showing it - it was being shown in the other Irish pub across the road. I made a mental note of the time and went back to the flat.

On Friday, I went to MOMA, the Museum of Modern Art which had two special exhibitions on. The ticket cost $25 for both of them, plus another five floors of permanent exhibit. The special exhibit I'd been recommended was a retrospective by New York photographer Cindy Sherman and was one of the most impressive and creepiest bodies of work I've ever seen. Basically every picture features herself in it, sometimes heavily disguised, sometimes obviously but always in a situation. She works alone, serving as make-up, costume design, set design, hair, photographer and model. Some of her work is very dark indeed. Other stuff is very funny.

The other was an overview of the finest American and international print design. It was much lighter in tone and very interesting. Some conceptual head-up-your-arse stuff but not too much to bear.

Went to the tenor sax dude on Friday night - didn't make the mistake this time of asking for root beer. Uh-huh. The music was brilliant. The place is brilliant. The couple who let e sit down beside them were very nice. It was expensive enough ($35) including drink and tip) but was worth it.

St patrick's day was fun even though I actually did very little. My good friend Amy Panetta had told me about a mass in Irish in St Agnes' Church which the Celtic music meetup group that she was involved with were planning to follow with Irish breakfast in Fitzpatrick' Hotel at Grand Central Station. We both decided that sounded like fun and then some of that group were planning to watch the parade so hey, we could do that too. A nicely executed O'Riada Mass was a strange bedfellow to a rather dramatic sermon in English by the new pastor of the church while the prayers and liturgy were conducted by a visiting Irish priest. Amy and I were both amused when I was approached and asked to take up the collection. I proposed Amy and we were both relieved when someone else came and took the bucket from us halfway through the service.

Breakfast at fitzpatricks was certainly a money spinner, took an outrageously long time to come and was not very good which is a disappointment but the company was very enjoyable and a nice way to pass a moment.

But of course by the time we got out of there the parade had started and the crowds were about 20 thick - hence we were about 50 blocks away from anywhere that we were going to be able to see. After a few minutes of wondering and wandering, the parties went off in their various directions. Amy and I vaguely thought about rugby but by the time we got to the appropriate pub you couldn't squeeze another head into it, never mind a whole body. Plus the sun was splitting the stones so why would we want to sit in a pub ? Btw do I want to know what the final score was ?

NYC on st Patrick's day is probably best avoided. A lot of people spend a lot of time at the pub (and many of them are not Irish) which can be irritating if you are trying to get somewhere but I wasn't and really enjoyed the hurly burly of it. You do reach a point where enough is enough and although we had been offered tickets to a gig by Mary who had bought them for me and her but didn't feel well when the time arrived, Amy's enough moment arrived at 4 and she commuted back to New Jersey.

I chilled for a while and then set off for the gig. The Bernie Worrell Orchestra featuring special guest Rob Schwimmer on Theremin. Mary was very excited about the venue and she is right. It's fantastic although you can't sit down unless you plan to eat and then they automatically add 20% tip to your bill. I stood. I have ten days left of this trip. The warm-up was rubbish - a piano player who played incredibly boring instrumentals and thought he could make them sound really good by banging, over-amplifying it, and adding distortion. Oh, and the really good bass player on the next few songs was welcome but didn't make the music any better. Bernie and his orchestra was great though - super, big sound. Terrific singer. Two drummers and percussion. Funky. And theremin is a fabulously surreal addition to that with Schwimmer looking like he's just stepped out from playing Doc in Back To The Future. Great night - and I didn't get lost on the way there, or back. Bonus.

I was in good Unitarian company on Sunday morning. Amy p had arranged me an opportunity to play at her church which was called Central Unitarian Church. By its name, I had mistakenly assumed it to be in New York City. This was a mistake and by the time I realized the mistake Sheila Powers (formerly from Alaska, more recently Dublin and, in the last two months, Conneticut) had decided that the most perfect way she could think of to spend her day off on a Sunday would be to drive to New York and see me. So she came and picked me up and we drove together to deepest darkest suburban New Jersey (what Della wore) and I played them an Irish tune to start their service (the meeting of the waters) and one to end their service (Carolan's concerto) on their beautiful piano (how come all UU churches seem to have beautiful pianos ?) and, having "done" coffee with the congregation and said goodbye to Amy (again) then we worked our way into NYC again and hung out at the end of 42nd St overlooking the Hudson, listening to eighties summer hits and pretending it was August, catching up and quizzing each other on our various explorations and new career paths. Scary but less scary when you know you're not the only one in that position.

I went home via the bus station to buy a lotto ticket (new york lotto is currently a staggering $241 million) and to check I didn't need a reservation for today's bus. "oh no, not at all. The bus is first come, first served".

So I arrived 90 minutes early today to find that because I didn't have a reservation bthat I would be on standby. I arrived second. I got on last. Greyhound could do some work on communications.

But I'm on the bus, I'm 6 1/2 hours through a 7 1/2 hour journey, I negotiated lunch at Quiznos Sub, I managed to eat it and get back on before the driver drove away and although my nice shiny iPad doesn't seem to have gps I'm just about following the route on google maps. I'm also now an expert on the New Jersey Turnpike thanks to Wikipedia.

Not entirely sure anyone is expecting me in Richmond in an hours time - join me next time to find out if I had to sleep in a doorway.