I hate Ryanair

By Susan | Published: May 10, 2010

Don’t get me wrong. I love the fact that I get to fly all over Europe for very cheap with them, but I hate every minute on that plane.  See, they are the cheapest airline around, and also the most profitable. What does this tell you about their business model? They have to make all that profit somewhere, right?

Ryanair has a no nonsense approach to customer service. If you want it, you will have to pay for it. Dearly. No nonsense. If you want to check a bag on your flight, you have to pay for it. Dearly. Feel like having a cup of water? Yep, that will cost you. Dearly. Want them to print out your boarding pass?You guessed it. It will cost you. Dearly. They even fly their own staircase with on the plane to ensure they don’t have to rent one from the ’stairway’ company that all the other airlines use! What’s more, they recycle their airline crew – the same girl who checks your (printed-at-home) boarding pass, is also the same one who guides you through security and then she welcomes you on the plane. These poor cabin crew members are worked off their feet.

And it only gets worse once you step on the plane.  Thought you could sit back and relax on your European flight? Nooooo sirree! That would be too much. From the moment you step onto the plane and dash for a seat (yes, they don’t assign seats either – you have to take what you can get!) the direct selling starts. From smoke-free cigarettes to scratch-cards-that-benefit-hungry-children-somewhere to cosmetics to hotdogs to bus tickets from the airport to the city center to your favourite flavour coffee or a totpack of brand-less vodka to mix into your expensive Cola, you can get it all on your one hour 50 minute flight. And I have a strong suspicion that the cabin crew earn commission on their sales…It’s a constant barrage of “Get your scratchcards / hotdogs / perfume / bus tickets / drinks” thundering down the isle while all you want to do is forget about the fact that you’re on a plane.

I have now resorted to making no eye contact at all with these stewardesses, employing the same tactics I use when I walk through the cosmetic section of a huge department store. The less eye contact I make, the smaller the risk of them trying to sell me something!

Apparently Ryanair is about to start charging £1 to use the toilet on board. When we were on the plane this weekend I was almost disappointed to find that they weren’t doing it yet. I was all prepared with my response. When the stewardess said “That will be one pound”, I was going to pipe, “No Honey, this is an emergency – we’re talking at least three pounds here!”

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All you need is…?

By Susan | Published: April 9, 2010

While I don’t necessarily consider myself an absolute expert, I do feel that I know quite a bit about love. I know that I love MyJohn so much that sometimes it feels as though my heart might break with the intensity of it. I know what it feels like to be truly loved as well – and there is nothing in the world quite like it. I know what it feels like when love disappoints you and I know what it feels like to fall in love for the first time, or all over again. I know love when it is platonic and I know love for generic ‘things’ (like that new pair of 4″ heels I bought the other day…it’s pure love that!). I have experienced love in most ways and am truly a richer person for it.

There is a new kind of love, however, that I’m being exposed to here on the soggy island (which is rather sunny today, I’ll have you know). And that’s the love you get from strangers. It’s the love used by the homeless guy sitting on the way to the tube entrance when he says ‘Can you spare the homeless some change, Love?’. It’s the love used by the guy who fixed my bicycle wheel and said ‘That’ll be a tenner, Love’ and it’s the same type that the policeman used after I asked him for directions and he said, ‘Just straight down the path, Love’ and it seems that this kind of love, too, is universal, or at least very British.

So call me naive or even a little silly, after all, I know they say that to all the girls, but when someone calls me ‘Love’ I do feel special and yes, a little loved…

Posted in London | 3 Comments

Two weeks on

By Susan | Published: February 27, 2010

Has it really only been two weeks? Wow. How one’s life can change in such a short period of time (without a serious trauma entering the scene, of course). We are settling in. The rain is pure misery, but I’m happy to report that I saw blue skies for a good couple of hours this morning! And yes, I’ve rediscovered the joy of unlimited access to Digestive Biscuits (the kind with milk chocolate on the one side) and also, by recommendation from pretty much everyone, Hobknobs. Oh my. The love handles are hoping that this newfound love affair is short-lived!

I’ve joined a bookclub. We’ve been to the local pub two nights in the past week. We’ve had bangers and mash at another local pub. I’ve walked five hours to travel two kilometers, and ended up walking about 15kms to get to my destination (where, oh where is the Manhattan grid system when you need it?) and I’ve gone running in Hyde Park (see my earlier comment about my newfound love affair with Hobknobs) a couple of times. I’ve been to Harrods, I’ve been to the V&A Museum (only to use the bathroom on that day I walked 15kms to travel only two), I’ve been to Paris for two nights, courtesy of the wonderful John and I’ve been to High Street Kensington a couple of times. I’ve gotten drenched when a bus drove by and through a puddle, which ran over onto the sidewalk and up to my ankles and I’ve even had my hair done! It’s been a busy, busy two weeks.

On Monday I start the apartment hunt to look for that perfect gem. You know the one – it’s got plenty of space, amazing light, luxurious bathrooms and a kitchen that gleams. Oh, and it doesn’t cost anything, right? Ha ha!

The main thing is that London feels almost like home. Which is weird. But it made me realize just how foreign New York and the USA was when I first arrived. It honestly took me over a year to feel really comfortable in my surrounds and ‘at home’ and while I know it’s early days, the fact that things here are so much more similar to what I grew up with makes it a whole lot easier to adapt. Instead of trying to figure out life, you can just focus on getting settled and getting on with life. Which is what we’re doing!

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Leaving the city.

By Susan | Published: February 16, 2010

On Friday morning I woke up for the last time in New York, stretching myself languidly along our fabulous memory foam mattress for the last time and brushed my teeth into our (relatively crappy molded) bathroom sink for the last time. I visited Annie at her 5th floor walk-up apartment for the last time, had a Lenny’s Chickavo sandwich for the last time (but for the first time on whole wheat bread, and man, should I have made that switch a long time ago!) and walked up Columbus Avenue home for the last time. And all the while I had a rock in my heart and a huge lump in my throat. I did not want to leave the city.

Strangely enough I didn’t really feel sad. I felt more…angry. And I decided to hold on to that anger for the whole day, just to prevent myself from crying, crying, crying. Because I figured that once I started, the waterfall would most likely not stop. In three short years, Manhattan had crept into my system and embedded itself in my psyche as ‘home’. The freezing, sunny days. The long walks in the park. Yes, even the vomit spots on the sidewalks. The rude walkers (“Haaay, I’m waaaalkin’ here”) and the friendly coffee cart guys. The impatient cab drivers and the polite police officers. With every fiber in my body I wanted, no, I needed, to stay.

But my brain overrode my feelings and I counted on the benefits of living closer to home, of being nearer to friends and family (but what about the friends who have become our family in New York?) and of being able to travel to Spain and Italy for a weekend. And so I kept packing. And packing and packing. Four oversized suitcases and two cabin bags later, I had a quick shower, pulled on my jeans, boots and warm coat and gave our Super’s wife a teary hug. (Sofaya was crying so much she couldn’t say goodbye and kept offering us a place to stay if we ever wanted to visit!) John, being his fabulous self, had organized a super stretch limo to take us to the airport and as we bundled our luggage and selves into the back of this long black car, I put on my brave face. This was it.

We popped a CD, made specially by Rose and titled ‘Gotham – What will you take away’ into the player, turned up the volume and John popped the cork on a bottle of Vuerve. And then, on the second glass, the tears started rolling. Uncontrollably. “Turn the car around. Turn it around,” I kept thinking, but I smiled and shook my head when John wiped my tears away and told me how lucky we were to be leaving on top. We have had the best of times. We made friends that will last us a lifetime. We went to the best parties. We did things that I would never have thought that a girl from a small town in Africa could ever do. And we were leaving it all behind for another bold adventure.

By the time the stretch limo dropped us at JFK my tears had dried and I was focusing on getting the sleeping tablets (the poor man’s business class, of course) ready and organizing us some dinner. We got on the plane and were both asleep by the time dinner was served (and I’m a bit disappointed by this as I notoriously love the lasagna on British Airways. No, really. It’s delicious). Six hours later our plane touched down at Heathrow and all our bags made it through with no problem.

We had arrived. And inside I was sad, sad, sad.

Now, after three days of non-stop rain, no sunshine and a cold that cuts right to the bone, we have organized cellphones, bank accounts and have even gone grocery shopping. We have walked miles in the rain and even attended a Goldfish concert on Leicester Square on the first night here. We are regrouping and starting over. And perhaps it won’t be so bad. Through my friend Shelley I’ve found a waxing salon and even gotten into a bookclub. She’s also hooked me up with a hairstylist whom I’m hoping to go see next week to pay some attention to my tresses. We have dinners lined up for next week, and, most importantly, John has announced that we will be going to Paris for my birthday on Thursday.

Life is looking better. The big question at the moment is what to do with this blog. Because after all, The City can only be Manhattan, right? Laurel kindly suggested I change the name of my blog to ‘Sue in the Loo’. After complaining about the non-stop miserable rain, Helena suggested ‘Sue in the Shitty’ (what do you think?).

Either way, this is going to be a whole new adventure. One that I’m ready for. Bring it.

Posted in London, New York, Travel | 2 Comments

Celebrations

By Susan | Published: February 1, 2010

John and I were lucky enough to crack an invite to the amazing Preston Bailey’s launch party for his latest book, Celebrations last week Thursday and, in true PB style, it was a breathtaking event. I knew what was in store when I first received the invitation:

Note the dress code…Hot!

Preston is the premier event planner, responsible for the weddings and birthday parties of people like Donald Trump, Oprah, Uma Thurman, Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones and with this party he surely did not fail to impress. Preston transformed a pretty ugly military hall into a purple and pink wonderland with a large runway / printing press onto which he projected moving images from his book, seemingly falling off a scroll attached to the ceiling. Larger-than-life trees, fitted with ribbons and crystal flanked the entryway and huge wire globes were alight with battery-operated ice cubes, creating a space that was just…breathtaking.

Oh and don’t get me started on the food. Entire stations dedicated to dessert? That’s my kind of party! Not only was the decor spectacular, but he also organized some top notch entertainment, starting with four, uhm, naked models, covering the basics with only pink and purple flowers. Nothing wrong with showing your guests some candy, right? However, when Gloria Gainer, and Martha Washington both performed, it took this party to another level – never has “I Will Survive” sounded this good.

I was also delighted to hear that Preston’s partner, Theo Bleckmann, was nominated for a Grammy – you go Theo!

This party was truly not a bad one to end my “social career” in New York with. I know we’ll remember this party for a long time coming, and if we ever were to forget, there is a gorgeous signed copy of Celebrations on the coffee table to help remind me.

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Selling on Craigslist

By Susan | Published: January 20, 2010

There’s a free service in the US called Craigslist and I think it’s one of the most underrated services out there. (The term ‘Craigslist Killer’ does spring to mind, but let’s not focus on the negative for now, shall we?) With a couple of clicks of a mouse button you can find / buy / sell anything online without it costing you a cent. We found our apartment through this site and have bought a couple of things through there over the past couple of years too. Now, with the big move about to happen, it’s time to turn towards this site again…

John and I divvied up responsibilities and tasks to ensure that we get everything done in the three weeks that we have left before we leave and the selling of all furniture has fallen on my plate. And boy oh boy have I been selling! The full-length mirrors went first, then the modern bookcases and the comfy swivel chairs. Now there are a couple of things left, but I feel pretty confident that we’ll be able to get rid of all of these before our time is up.

Considering that we arrived in the US three years ago with a total of four suitcases and a smallish case, filled with boots, photo albums and some small trinkets, we really have come a long way! And it’s strange how detached we have both become in regard to these furniture pieces that we spent so much energy, money and time in collecting. That dining room table that we agonized over, rented a car to drive two hours and pick it up? Sell it. Same for the book cases that we trawled the net for, trying to find the ultimate best deal on. Sold. And it’s quite liberating in a way. We are leaving New York to start over. Start new. Fresh.

Now if only they sold the energy required to do all of this in small little sweet tablets. I’d definitely be first in line to get some for when the whole process of searching, agonizing, bargaining and shopping starts all over on British soil!

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Leaving the city…

By Susan | Published: January 19, 2010

After exactly three years of Manhattan living, it is time for Sue to leave the city. And it feels like the worst breakup in the world. My heart is aching and my head is confused. New York is like the boy you love but know you have to leave for there is definitely another one out there that will treat you better. One who will have your best interest at heart.

For us this new love is London. John was offered a great position within his company’s office and we have to start this new affair in mid-February. While neither of us feel quite ready to leave New York (how can you ever feel ready?), I have to be honest an say that  we are both excited about the prospect of living closer to family and friends – and even on the same time zone – and being back in a European culture.

See, I don’t think you can ever really ‘be done’ with New York. It’s like drug and it’s one I’m hooked on. Now every time I buy a latte from my coffee cart guy I think ‘Will I ever see this guy again?’ and when I side step a puddle of vomit on the sidewalk I do so with less disgust in my heart, because it is New York vomit, after all. The big apple will be hard to get over. But I’m opening my heart to whatever will come next.

At the moment I’m compiling a list of all the things that we still have to do before we go. And my list is long. It’s like dragging your ex to just one last supper, because the conversation is just so good. And if you will, I’ll drag you along on these final experiences so we can cry together over the loss of our mutual love, New York.

Posted in New York | 2 Comments

Invictus…

By Susan | Published: January 11, 2010

Yesterday we returned from three glorious sun-drenched weeks in Namibia and South Africa. In an effort to stay awake and combat the dreadful jetlag that a six-hour time difference and a 23-hour door-to-door journey leave you with, we decided to head to the movies and see Clint Eastwood’s Invictus, featuring Morgan Freeman as Nelson Mandela and Matt Damon as the captain of the Springbok rugby team, Francois Pienaar.

As the camera panned the Cape Town scenes that I love and know so well, John whispered, “Do you think there’s anyone in the theater that saw Table Mountain in person more recently than us?”. No. There definitely couldn’t be. But most importantly, I felt pretty sure that no one in the packed theater was viewing this amazing film with as much love for that country as we did.

It was a strange experience, seeing what went on ‘behind the scenes’ during the run up to this momentous rugby match. I was a 15-year old girl living in Namibia at the time of the 1995 Rugby World Cup and all I remember of it is the immense pride with which we watched every game the Springboks played in, right up to that final kick by Joel Stransky that declared the Boks the winners.  As a white teenager living in the relativele luxury of white suburbia, I really was oblivious to all the politics and drama that was happening on our doorstep. (Namibia became independent of South Africa in 1990 and has remained a politically stable country ever since.) What I do remember is the absolute passion with which I fell in love with Madiba. His humility and passion for his country was contagious and the way with which he embraced all races inspired me and everyone around me.

The camera panned a scene of the townships outside Cape Town and Johannesburg and John again said, “It’s shocking that it hasn’t changed much since 1995, right?” and I felt a surge of anger…and of shame. What are we doing to change that? Here is a country filled with so much hope, so much creativity, pride and an overriding belief that things can change, that everyone has a chance of being who they want to be. And yet the vast majority of people in this country still live in absolute poverty, with so little hope. And, not for the first time, I felt ashamed. And I decided that this year I will do something to change, for the better, the lives of at least one person living in my homeland. How I’ll do that I’m not yet sure. Perhaps we should each sponsor one child’s school fees for the year. Perhaps I will start a fund to help our domestic worker in Windhoek to send her kids to school. One thing is for sure – the problems in Southern Africa are not going to fix themselves. It is the responsibility of us all to help in whichever way we can.

The year ahead is filled with opportunity and change – for me and John and probably for you too. What will you do to help others?

Invictus – William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Posted in Entertainment, South Africa | 2 Comments

Dreaming of Christmas

By Susan | Published: December 17, 2009

Rockefeller Christmas TreeIt’s that time of the year where all you hear is Jingle Bells and you truly feel like you’re Dreaming of a White Christmas, wherever you go. This year we’re lucky enough to be going far, far away from a White Christmas. In fact, our Christmas will be kind of brown…like a dune, to be exact! On Saturday morning we leave for a visit to Namibia – my first in three years. John once did visit before we met, but the real highlight is the fact that his parents are joining us for their first visit. My mom’s been in organization overdrive for almost six months and I’ve been told that the biltong and droewors supply is looking good and that the white wine is well chilled (just the news I wanted to hear!).

We’ll be traveling for 26 hours to get to our destination (double ugh!) and I already know that my luggage will be a) overweight and b) unable to close. Dammit. How does Christmas shopping always go this route? I have put tomorrow night in the calendar for packing so if you hear loud wailing coming from Manhattan, that will be me trying to decide which summer outfit NOT to pack.

Wishing you all a warm Christmas and a safe holiday – whether you’ll be having a White or Brown Christmas.

Posted in Home & Family, Travel | 1 Comment

Bonemarrow – the ultimate Christmas gift…

By Susan | Published: December 11, 2009

The holidays are a time for giving – gifts, time, money, but I’d like you to give something else.

My friend Lauren’s boyfriend Seun Adebiyi is facing the the battle of his life, and for his life. This 26-year old has leukemia and needs a bone marrow transplant. Time is running low and because he is from Nigeria, finding a match remains an exceptional challenge. In addition to fearlessly facing leukemia, Seun is a super-hero in many other rights: he is a Yale Law School graduate, a massage therapist, a private pilot, and an Olympic hopeful (in the skeleton – which is similar to bob sledding – hello Cool Runnings!).

We need you to help raise awareness in the fight against leukemia and lymphoma. Only about 17% of African-Americans ever find a match.  We need help finding a match for Seun.

Seun’s employer, Goldman Sachs, will generously be sponsoring a bone marrow drive in New York City on January 10th. Goldman Sachs is also helping Seun take the search global, by sponsoring his travel to Nigeria, where he and his mother will host the first-ever Nigerian bone marrow drive.

If I haven’t yet convinced you that you need to register to become a bone marrow donor and tell everyone else to do the same, read this article in the  New York Times, and follow Seun’s blog here. If you have a blog, please help me spread the word by posting this on yours.

If you are not yet a registered donor, please register now at http://www.dkmsamericas.org/. All it takes is a simple cheek swab. You could save a life.

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