New York

The only time you ever got to see the stars above Manhattan, was when I was there, in August 2003. It was during the balckout.

In the diner on Lexington, the waitress refills my glass of water after every sip I take.

On the city bus, I listen to the busdriver's jiving - he makes the passengers smile. In the seat opposite me, there is a Latino who smells of too much Aqua Velva. And then I notice a Puertorican, standing. He crosses himself as we drive past St. Patrick's cathedral.

Out on the streets, the overflowing garbage bins and the stench of fermenting rubbish under the August sun.

The sidewalks of Manhattan are always crowded. It's like the Saturday shopping rush-hour every day. There are queues everywhere. In New York people patiently line up and wait their turn in good humour. You line up at ticket offices, at public phones, public toilets and even elevators!

The reception staff in our boutique hotel drive me crazy. I'm haunted by their marketing mantra: "Welcome to the W Experience!"