Lucky

People say I am the luckiest girl in New York to find a super great deal for my apartment. I would like to stress the super from the "great deal" as they keep saying that too. Finding an apartment to come home to in New York is like finding your soul mate. You experience missteps and mishaps along the way. That is even an understatement.

During my apartment search last month, I came across this converted 1 bedroom that became a 3 bedroom in Chinatown! It wasn't exactly how the ad said it was:

"FOR RENT $900/mo, Security Deposit, Large 10x10 bedroom, Sun-drenched (I hate the way people use this description!), Good location - near a train "

If I could describe it myself, I would put an ad saying:

"FOR RENT $900/mo, Overpriced small-medium sized 10 x 10 bedroom (free dilapidated bed, no closets, no storage), Windows in bedroom - (warning: don't look out, unless you wanna be shot dead), Location is in Manhattan (the moldy portion of Manhattan. oh, and the train is about a thousand steps away... start counting!)"

These apartment ads crack me up.

I even saw one on Craiglist, which caught my attention immediately! Imagine, only $450/mo for an East Village apartment! I read on anxiously...

"Roommate must occasionally walk around naked. I am not pyscho, not a nudist. I am normal and not even after sex. I just appreciate women in the nude."

Wait, is there a new definition of normal? Lemme check with Webster: The New York Edition.

Anyway, I found my apartment without even lifting a finger (I guess to me that's the lucky part). I posted a normal (by my definition) Craigslist ad, and my landlord e-mailed me! I checked the place out - and I liked it. It's nothing compared to our very spacious multi-storey home back in Manila - but this is over-populated New York. You can't find space here, unless you are The Donald.

I live literally in the heart of Manhattan, I have a doorman, a walk-in closet, a queen size bed, privacy and a great view of the Chrsyler building. The location is perfect, so I can come home as late as I want! I couldn't practice my cooking skills (or the lack thereof) though, since my kitchen is so tiny! So is my fridge! But that's ok, you can't have everything for less than a thousand bucks :)

Here is a photo of the view from my "super" deal, or what made people think I'm lucky for.

I believe them, though, but I am luckier in other ways.
But let's save that for my next blog!



Apartment view at night

Argh-ument

Dammit, I miss wearing sleeveless tops! And eating ice cream in hot weather. Over here, it's eating warm noodles in cold, cold weather.

Can't wait till Spring...

Mad About Manhattan

After years of waiting, I now live on the one shimmering island in this world where the strangest sorts of people have a way of coming together. Where people get around in bright yellow cabbies and dirty subways; where people order Chinese at four in the morning and drink rainbow-colored cocktails along with it; where people go broke, yet materialism abound. It’s the place where, for some reason, everybody wears black: head to toe, top to bottom, all over, on all four seasons! A city populated by towering skyscrapers, underground performers, of Dean and Deluca, of captivated tourists, of local realists, of Grey’s Papaya and Atkins Diet. A city so bold and alive, that it has been brilliantly stigmatized as, “the city that never sleeps”.

I now live in Manhattan.

I say that chin up, with a Manhattanesque pride, no less.

30 Days After Day One

There goes my New Year’s resolution.

Every adventure and misadventure must’ve been written here since I step foot in JFK on the 11^th of January. But, darn, I procrastinated again. And I have left all them now to yesternights.

Procrastination, though, is the least of my worries 30 days ago. That day, I bid farewell to my loving family and friends in Manila -- with tears held at the back of my eyes. Thirty days ago, I embarked myself in what I consider as my paradigm shift.

I had to learn to say goodbye to all the luxuries I have back home.

Adios to having friends and family a text away,
To conveniently driving a 2.0 engine car, (and getting exclusive parking space from that friendly Salcedo Vill. parking attendant!)
Adios to posh dining in Nuvo, or after-dinner coffee at Segafredo,
Adios to extensive travels where my heart takes me,
To endless shopping, accessorizing and my attempts at living my Imelda within.

Adios to all that.

Ola to taking the bus or the train,
Ola to cheap Chinese take-out thrice a day,
To doing the dishes and the laundry,
To cleaning the toilet,
Best of all,
To thinking twice about buying that $80 pair of stilettos.

Ola, ola, ola!

After months of emotional and physical preparation, I was finally able to put a check mark on one of my life’s To-Do list: Live in the Big Apple.

From Day 1, I had told myself that I will begin to write about New York. That despite its capricious reputation, I shall look and write about each day with rose-tinted glasses, avec kitschy purple feathers. That every waking day is a New York moment; my own little version of a primetime reality TV show. This has been my plan – and a half. And I am very blessed to have come this far.

That was 30 days ago. Yes, this blog is delayed, but my adventures and misadventures aren't.