Tag Archives: Manhattan

Summer Daze

I always dreamed of having a perfect summer in New York. What I forgot to factor in, was the fact that I work 40+ hours a week and didn’t make enough money to do the things I truly want: travel and eat lots of food. Fortunately for me, I’m surrounded by some pretty amazing people who helped make my first summer in New York pretty great.

After looking through most of my photos, I can tell you I spent a significant amount of time at sporting events, running around Manhattan, apartment searching, and trying new restaurants.

Here’s some photos that perfectly capture my first summer in the Big Apple.

Adventures in Brooklyn

Happy Easter peeps! I hope all of you had as wonderful of a day as I did. Phebe’s friend, Reid, was in town for the weekend and we decided to venture across the Brooklyn Bridge for some fun. Side note: Reid sails at Harvard and has known Phebe since birth – they were born a day apart! People often ask if their twins (I know – how cool right?) Anyways, we took the train down to Chamber Street, began the crowded trek across the bridge and were rewarded with the most breathtaking views of Manhattan and beyond. We had a few hours to explore before Reid had to board his bus so we walked below the bridge, around DUMBO (Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass for all you non-New Yorkers).  We were greeted with even more beautiful views, smells of delicious foods and people everywhere. We chowed down on a cleat disguised as a bench on the pier overlooking lower Manhattan. There was a slight breeze in the air, the sun was shining down on us and all was perfect in the world. We wanted to try Grimaldi’s world-famous pizza, but they were closed for Easter, so we opted in for some seafood at Luke’s Lobster. I grabbed the lobster roll, Reid had the crab roll – both were simply divine!

Before we finished our amazing lunch, we spotted the Brooklyn Ice Cream store a few steps away. Since I gave up ice cream for lent, it was only an obvious choice to grab some before heading back to Manhattan. We opted to split a Butter Pecan and Chocolate Chip Chunk ice cream filled cup since we only had a few dollars on hand between the both of us. (Side note: Bring cash with you when exploring – some places still operate on a cash-only basis)

Twas a wonderful day spent with friends exploring the most wonderful city in the world. I can only hope that everybody had even just a fraction of the fun I did today!

5 Boroughs. One Team.

Some of you may not be as familiar with my NYU soccer career, however, I think it is imperative that you do know that the team means the world to me. Between the wins and losses, the injuries and celebrations, the friendships and adventures, the past three years have been a whirlwind to say the least. This post is dedicated to those who have been part of my NYU soccer experience – without you, I would be nothing.

Claire and Phebe at Aviator Field, Brooklyn

Claire and Phebe at Aviator Field in Brooklyn

On the way to practice the other day at the furthest part of Brooklyn, a few of us were joking that we’ve been to played soccer in every borough except Queens. Our practice turf is on Pier 40 (Manhattan), we play at Gaelic Park for our home games (Bronx), and Staten Island has been a staple practice field in the spring. Today, changed that when we practiced at the Metropolitan Oval in Queens.

The view from the Metropolitan Oval

The view from the Metropolitan Oval

Being an athlete at NYU comes with its challenges, such as lack of home fields, but what we lack in physical space, we possess in adaptability, humor, and camaraderie. The past three years would not have been possible without the girls by my side, especially the rest of my junior class.

We came. We won. We conquered NYC today. 5 Boroughs, 1 Spring Season. Who knows what challenge lies next?

We came. We won. We conquered NYC today. 5 Boroughs, 1 Spring Season. Who knows what challenge lies next?

 

Home. House. Where do I fit in?

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A plethora of emotions swirl through my bloodstream and a series of thoughts swarm the forefront of my brain when I think of home.  A straightforward yet very convoluted concept leaves me dazed and confused as I sit in yet another airport terminal. “Where is home? San Diego or New York?” inquires a chatty middle age woman.  An almost quixotic vision of my home envelops my mind: the palm trees swaying in the breeze, our two border collies running out the front door, a sunny San Diego day with no sign of clouds for miles – perfect weather for a day at the beach. However, as soon as the pieces come together in a romantic landscape, they fall apart and are replaced by the harsh grey of steel skyscrapers, dark skies, throngs of strangers in crowded intersections, whaling sounds of sirens and the smell of sewage.  Two very different images play out in my mind, yet images of my two homes nonetheless.

“I’m going back to school right now” is all I can mutter as the early morning fog clears from my head. I want to scream, “I don’t know!”

I have sprinkled the seeds of my heart over four continents and have yet to claim a single place as my stomping grounds.  It’s the typical military child’s dilemma. Is the place where I spent the most time a home, or is it where I feel most at “home”? Is “home” wherever we are or is it where our family is? Is it where I went to high school or where I have the most friends? A number of questions need addressing and I don’t even know where to begin; Australia? England? Spain? San Diego? New York? Japan?  I’m starting to think I’m entering into my quarter life crisis.

As I set the anxiety aside, a trait I’ve perfected over the years, through the fifteen houses I’ve called home, I begin to realize the source of the problem, an identity crisis maybe? No. A severe case of “growing up”? Perhaps. The fact of the matter is that the past nine days in San Diego was brief, however it made me realize how lucky I am to have this “home” to visit as begin the next chapter of my life, which includes LSATs, job hunts, more apartment searching, and a thorough examination of both heart and soul. As I propel forward into the next stage with my peers, I have to acknowledge that with this exciting and nerve-racking transformation into a “real person” complete with a “real” job and responsibilities, is that there are other changes to adapt to as well which include less frequent and shorter visits to our family’s house and transitioning into making my new “home”.

I’m well prepared. I can tell just by looking at my two parents who have graced numerous residences with their presence. They have equipped me with the tools to succeed both professionally and socially as I transition this last year of college into an adult. It’s a looming and distressing process but I welcome the challenge, just as I’ve welcomed every new home into my heart.

Going home makes for difficult, long-winded, pathetic goodbyes when it’s time to return to your other “home”. It doesn’t take rocket science to understand that goodbyes are nearly as challenging as the first “hello”, but the promises of another visit comfort the five-year-old inner self. I however, have no return ticket, no promise of another visit to my teenage decorated room, the sandy beaches, and the glorious Mexican food. It’s an inevitable feeling not knowing what’s coming, but it brings forth the more important question, “Who do you dare become as you leave your house and create your new “home”?”

Blogging Home

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Let it be known that I am not one to be late for anything. If you know anything about me, I’m sure you are well aware that I am never less than fifteen minutes early for anything. I would be considered what you call “OCD” when it comes to getting anywhere.

Yesterday, however, I did the unthinkable.

I MISSED MY FLIGHT. YUP, I MISSED MY FLIGHT.

Laugh all you want, but I promise that is the last time I ever leave two and half hours prior to my flight in Manhattan.

On the verge of tears

On the verge of tears

Nothing even begins to compare to that feeling in your stomach when everything turns to sh*t. The butterflies began when I walked downstairs at 3 o’clock to catch a cab to JFK. Unlike most days where I can just wave down a cab in 2.7 seconds flat (check out my holiday guide on catching a cab), it took 45 WHOLE MINUTES to get a cab to go the airport (and that was after the promise of a generous tip and a gleaming smile).  As soon as I hopped into the cab, the butterflies subsided, but only for a minute, before I realized that getting out of Manhattan was going to be anything but easy. I proceeded to sit in traffic the rest of the way to airport for the remaining two hours – the worst part wasn’t the traffic or the $62 spent on the taxi or the unbearable smell of halal in the cab, just knowing that I wasn’t going to make it on time was enough to make my emotionless self cry.

In the two hour cab ride, I drained my fully charged iPhone to a trifling 17% bombarding a multitude of people with phone calls, texts and snapchats – American Airlines, my parents, the hockey team, and best friends – you name it, I messaged them.

Goodbye NY

Goodbye NY

Once I arrived to the terminal, the water works started. It had finally settled in. I was not going home that night. I don’t know who was more upset – the woman who tried her best to decipher my words between sobs or me. I called my Dad and before I knew it I was booked on the last SEAT out of NYC to San Diego until Saturday (thanks Dad, you rock!). I headed back into the city on a bus, more upset than anything and grabbed a cab back downtown to my awesome friend, Tim’s, apartment. Before I exited the cab, the driver made his best effort to remind me how upset and stubborn I was and then proceed to tell me I had the attitude of a cow from Calcutta – say what? Hey! I’ll take that as a compliment, thankyouverymuch.

Once I got to Timmy’s I hopped out of the cab, my emotional and physical baggage in tow, and landed him the biggest hug he’s ever gotten. He mostly stood there, began chuckling to himself, and lugged all of my suitcases upstairs. Once again you’re such a rock star Tim! Atop of his three-story-walkup was my amazing “mini-me”, Menta, waiting arms wide-open, with the greatest hug and consoling words a girl could ask for.

After a night filled with Ukrainian pirogues, potato pancakes, white pizza, lots of jokes on behalf of the hockey team and snuggling on the couch with Menta, I felt a lot better. I think that’s when you know you’ve found some quality pals – they’ll pick you off the ground, but not before they poke some fun at you first.

Headed Home

Headed Home

Today, I was a planner. I left Tim’s at 11:45 and was at JFK at 12:15 – isn’t it funny how things work out? I had told the cab driver my misfortune the day earlier and all he could do was laugh and say in his heavy Pakistani accent, “I hope you make your flight so you can share your laughter with your family.” It took me all of 25 minutes to get through check in and security. As some readers already know, I am not the best of packers, but I did get both of my bags under the restriction – one weighed in at 47 and the other at 49 – can I get a medal for that? Once through security I found myself in the Admiral’s Club, nomming away on a grilled cheese and chocolate milk and writing my Sports Law paper that was due a couple hours later. Right before my flight I made my way down to the gate, and to my great surprise I had found one of my NYU friends Grady at the gate. A little less than 30 seconds on the plane, and I spotted my neighbor Emily who was traveling back from Madrid and another Scrippy. Seriously, HOW SMALL IS THIS WORLD GOING TO GET?

Anyways, I’m four hours into this flight, counting down the seconds till I get back home. Two hours, one minute and fifty three seconds. Fifty two. Fifty one. Fifty. You get the point.

Knowing my Dad, I am sure I’ll be getting my fair share of “I told you so’s” in the next couple of days, but there are many things I learned from this. First of all, my friends are awesome –I dare your friends to be cooler/more supportive/ understanding/ funnier/ compassionate/caring! From Katie and Alex putting up with my storage issues to Menta hearing all of my venting to Tim who let me crash and invade his bachelor’s pad – all four of them were such a huge support system in this huge mess (and on the daily). Second of all, I need to learn how to breathe. I’m usually pretty good at handling stress, but the stress of letting somebody down is probably the one thing that bothers me the most. The last and important thing I learned (from my Dad) is that the last mile is the most important one. Whether I’m running a marathon or trying to catch my flight back home, you better bet your bottom dollar that I will (for now on) make sure I am doing everything I can to make it happen – until I cross the finish line or get my California burrito.

Home

Home

Song of the week: “Crying on a Suitcase” – Casey James (How appropriate, right?)

Why I Love Manhattan

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Whenever people ask where I’m from, I always have to pause, take a deep breath, and then explain that home is where I’m at, not where I’m from, nor where I went to high school, or even where I was born. Growing up in the military, our go-to saying was “Home Is Where the Navy Sends You” – simply said and eloquently put, it’s true. And even though I’m currently from San Diego, I take pride in going to school in New York City. I’m in love with everything about it:  the crazy people, the $1 pizza on the way home from a late water polo practice and the wackiness that is bound to be around each and every corner.207095282834939750_qMa2EuOd_f

It’s not everyday that I’m reminded of why I love New York City, but while using Pinterest (my new found obsession) I somehow stumbled upon this video time lapse of the Big Apple. It truly does capture the essence of the city – the hustle and bustle, the sleeplessness, and beauty all around despite the concrete everywhere.  I can only hope that my photography makes half of an impact on its viewers as Cameron Michael’s video did on me.

I still miss New York each and every day but am so excited to be back in the city – only 34 days and counting. In the meantime, here’s my five most favorite but most often overlooked things about New York (in no particular order).

  1. The Crazy People On The Street (Mostly 6th Ave) – There are over eight million people in New York City but my favorite are the ones that like to yell to my friends and I when we’re walking about. While their lack of cleanliness drives me bonkers, these people are some of the true comedians in the city. They will remind you that your skirt may be too short or that you’re a sexy sista or even that your jacket is hideous (even if it did cost a pretty penny). They are the icing to the cake that is NYC and I pray for their health and safety every day because it wouldn’t be the Big Apple without em.
  2. The Ability to Walk Everywhere (In Exceptionally Gorgeous Shoes) – Manhattan is only 13 miles long and 2.3 miles wide – bet you didn’t know that, did ya? And with a million little streets to explore, the best way to see all of them is to walk. Even though the double decker bus tours are great for getting a broad overview of the city and its many villages, the only way to get a true feel for the city is to step on the cracks of the sidewalk and waltz past some of the original stores and restaurants buried in the depths of the city in your favorite Louboutins.
  3. The Secrets – New York is one of the most famous, if not the most well known city in the world, but underneath the surface lie many secrets and stories that have yet to be uncovered. As a self proposed “Adventurist” I LOVE the fact that NYC is still rich in history that has yet to be exploited by millions of tourists.
  4. You Will Never Be the Worse Dressed (or Best Dressed) Person – As a yoga-pant-wearing-messy-bun-sporting girl I love being able to roll out of bed five minutes before class, throw on some sweats and walk confidently out of my room knowing that there WILL, without a doubt, be somebody dressed worse than I am (unless I decide to dress like the photo below). The downside to this is that there is always going to be somebody dressed better than you, even if you’re a Victoria’s Secret Angel.
  5. The Pride – Whether it’s pride for being gay or pride for your sports teams (Go Rangers!), New Yorkers are extremely passionate and go all out for something they love. Being the sports fanatic that I am, I am in love with the fact that there are so many sports teams in the New York Area and I personally believe that NY fans are the best – trust me on this one (and if you don’t believe me, go to a Rangers Hockey Game).

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Quote of the Day:  “The City is not a concrete jungle, it is a human zoo” – Desmond Morris

Missing Manhattan: A Compilation of Photos

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Two months until I’m back in the city and I cannot even explain how much I’m missing it. I love to take pictures and more often than not I love to pretend that I’m actually a great photographer. Whilst in New York, I tried to avoid looking like a tourist and carrying around my large Canon 60D, but hey sometimes you just cannot resist the beauty of the Concrete Jungle. Here are some of my favorite pics from both my Canon and my handy dandy iPhone.

Jam of the Day: “New York City” by The Peter Malick Group feat.  Norah Jones