The Diner, the Consulate, and the long, long drive.

Gotta love it!

The next day dawned brightly sunny and seriously humid - as far as we could tell. The sun was fairly difficult to spot amongst all the scarily tall buildings but we were pretty sure it was there. The air conditioning in the hotel room left us dangerously under prepared for what we would encounter outside - the adjustable temperature only allowed us to control exactly which degree of freezing we wanted to be and simply ignored the Off setting entirely. The children awoke at an ungodly hour of course, so we were up and about before some of New York's finest had even thought of their beds, and ventured out in search of food.
And so to the Diner. It had to be done. And not just because I wanted to indulge in one of the US's more revolting but oh, so delicious habits. I speak, of course, of pancakes with bacon and MAPLE SYRUP! Love it, love it, love it! Washed down with some seriously delicious coffee, (which puts London firmly into third place, leaving dear old Aus securely at the top), not espresso but lovely, none the less. After discovering that grape jelly is really not worth the calories, but Maple syrup SO is, we set off to keep ourselves both awake and occupied until lunchtime.
The Australian Consulate was our first stop, it being open at a sensible time and the shops not opening til 10. A small taste of home as we did our citizenly duty and voted in the general election. Well, it was either that or incur a fine, and that's not really the way to show your appreciation for being allowed to join the club, is it? Just for interest, we did a small comparison with the US consulate in Sydney - metal detecting archway? No. Bag x-ray? No. Armed guards? No. Bullet proof glass? No. Secret lift up to 50th floor? No. Bomb proof doors? No. Six-nil to the US.
We took an ordinary lift, in an ordinary sky scraper to an ordinary receptionist who pointed us in the direction of an ordinary room with a few booths and some lovely ladies who gave us the ballots and entertained Finn while we did our thing. Easy as.
There were a couple more must-dos to achieve before retrieving the car (and heaven alone knew where the dudes had finally got round to putting that), so we walked down 5th Avenue, bought a hot pretzel from a cart thingy, having decided the hot dogs were far too scary to eat before spending several hours in the car, took a quick peek at Grand Central Station, and ducked into FAO Schwartz to find a bribe, I mean toy, for Finn. As it turns out, the Toys'R'Us in Times Square is better, but the M&M's shop over the road is completely fabulous! A whole three floors dedicated to those little M&M characters' merchandise, with a couple of the actual chocolates for sale as well.
Back to the hotel to finish packing, check out, locate the car and brace ourselves for the long drive upstate. All managed without any fuss. Unlikely but true!

Very Grand. No dancing this time though.

Times Square and a Feathersword

The city that never sleeps..............

.....but us, oh so weary international jet setters, had to bow out and hit the sack before even Times Square was alive and kicking. For that is where we next found ourselves. Having left the Crown Plaza, Terrigal a scant ten days before, the Crown Plaza, Times Square, in all its quite-shabby-but-no-one-cares-because-this-is-Times-Square glory was our new temporary home. We picked up the hire car at the airport, played child car seat switcheroo for a couple of hours, squeezed the suitcases and bags in to the boot, pardon me, trunk, then took them out again as Meg let a large one loose in the car which called for a complete stripdown and rebuild. But finally, we hit the road, remembering to drive on the wrong side of the road, that the Americans like to think of as right.
The GPS system was as squirmingly polite as folk are round here, even reminding us to put on our seat belts (and thanking us for hiring from Avis when we dropped the car back!). Off we ventured. I marvelled the whole way at the signs pointing to places that I have only read about, and laughed my socks off at the most helpful one that read, "Uptown, Crosstown and Downtown" with three little arrows. I assume that would be of help to some people. Jodi, bless him, concentrated on translating the instructions from the very helpful GPS lady into actual turns, all the while remembering not to try and change gear with the door handle, and sure enough we eventually found ourselves in Manhattan and Times Square. Enough was enough for one day however, and when the always-on-the-lookout-for-tips parking dudes told us the parking garage was full, it was Jodi's turn to lose the plot. I believe he threw his keys at the guy and told him to put the car somewhere quite, quite different, but I, alas, was not there to witness it, as Finn had a toilet crisis of his own which necessitated a wild dash into the hotel (with crying baby in buggy) to find the amenities.
Little wonder a short walk and some room service was all we could rustle up, before notching the day up to experience and throwing in the towel.

And so to the Big Apple

Bless!

Mmmmm.

The flight from London was possibly the hardest and not just because I was sitting next to Finn this time! All sorts of exciting things happened: one of us was selected for a special security check at the departure gate - my son, Finn , the obvious security risk that he is, had his Wiggles flight bag dismembered, his shoes drug checked and his person patted down. This was on top of the usual metal detecting archway and x-ray machine shenanigans. We were hustled off to one side as we went through the boarding card check at the gate. Quite amusing if it wasn't so scary. Then, onto the plane where we encountered a double booked seat. A piercing-encrusted, dread-locked, very charming young man had been given one of our seats. He moved, graciously, to a new seat provided by the only helpful member of the flight crew on board. British Airways need to get their act together if you ask me. Even the old dears on Qantas are more obliging than your average BA trolley dolly.

New York, New York, the city with the highest number of armed security personnel I have ever seen, anywhere. (And we're not even through customs yet). And true to the popular stereotype, I had been wished a nice day three times before reaching true US soil. Meg, whose timing proved to be perfect, lost the plot as we joined the three mile long queue at passport control. A lovely lady, who was not wearing a gun or a British Airways uniform, lifted the rope and waved us through to the next available 16 stone, muscle bound, armed, scary-as-all-hell customs officer. He did not so much as crack the tiniest of smiles as he checked and re-checked our visas, fingerprints and iris scans. Yup, it's all totally true. No jokes allowed. Gulp. But then, with a final flourish of his official stamp, he handed back our passports, permitted himself a tiny smile-ette and said, "Have a nice day". Four! Bingo!

A dash back to Blighty

The children (still sounds weird saying that!) were fabulous on the plane. Finn pushed on til the bitter end but eventually went to sleep then slept for hours. Meg slept, ate, slept some more pretty much all the way to London. We flew via Bangkok with the most ridiculous of lay overs. Forty minutes in which they made us disembark, leave the arrivals gate then walk through the airport, through airport security - x-rays, the works - all while carrying a sleeping Finn, a cross Meg and two heavy flight bags - then back via a different route to the VERY SAME GATE. A forty minute round trip. After nine hours of flying, having to remove your shoes while holding a sleeping toddler was a little beyond the bounds of my patience, and it was Jodi that was lumbered! Anyway, on to London. Oh! London, city of all things great and quite possibly the worst cup of coffee I have ever had the misfortune to buy. After 6 years of Aussie fabulousness, Heathrow's finest was sadly lacking.

So, we picked up the car and started a ten day dash, visiting friends and family. It was great. The sun shone, mostly, Finn was thoroughly spoiled and Meg greeted everyone with a smile. Nana and Pops were exhausted after our four days there, Willow was terrified and Baby Bea was probably quite put out having her little cousin to share her limelight!

Finn, having asked at each stop whether we were in Amec-ira yet, was delighted to find out that after just one more plane ride we would finaly be there. A dawn flit back to Heathrow left us wandering whether we were doing the right thing.

And so, on to New York.

Leaving home.

Making the most of our last Bridge crossing!

Once we decided to accept the job and move to the other side of the world, everything happened very quickly. The movers were booked, tickets were bought and within three weeks our house was empty and we were officially homeless.

It was very poetic, our leave taking. We stayed in Terrigal for a few days, doing all the things we had done when we first arrived - only with earlier bedtimes and less drinking! We ate at the same restaurants, marvelled at the same views, and tried not to fill up our cases with beautiful things from beautiful shops.

We had a small leaving brunch - a pleasingly large number of people came to say goodbye over a coffee (oh, australian coffee, I miss you!) and slice of banana bread, and a few secret tears were shed. Finn had a great time playing with his friends, and we tried very hard to make his goodbyes meaningful, but three year olds have a limited sense of time.......
On our last night something made me smile: a group of girls click-clacked past us on the way to the pub - their highest heels on, their make-up done and their clothes and hair just perfect. On the corner stood a group of boys of the same age off to the same pub - thongs, boardies, singlets and just-off-the-beach hair. Such a Central Coast snapshot - hilarious!
We left Sydney via the Wiggles shop at the airport and considered briefly how we had arrived - we were girlfriend and boyfriend with backpacks and a couple of sticks of furniture. Now look at us. What can I say, it's been a good six years.