The East Village.
A bar with a secret door and dark oriental decor.
Delicious Asian fusion cooking. Delicate small portions.
Loos like mini opium dens - so well hidden by the decor that they are almost impossible to find.
Walking through packed streets, people queuing at club entrances.
'White Slab'. (Sounds like a mortuary, but in fact, kind of a cross between an oyster bar and club.)
Loud, very loud, Abba being played.
People shouting in your ear.
Having to shout to be heard.
Saturday morning (and afternoon)
An annoyingly slow cab journey to the Long Island Railroad - running in heels for the 12.20 train.
Walking home through empty, dark streets.
Bed at 2am.
A long slow morning watching Wimbledon in bed (luckily the boys were having a sleepover with our neighbours).
A croaky voice and ringing ears.
Cars 2 at a large all-American cinema, with popcorn all over the floor.
Driving around various large malls to purchase items such as a 'baseball mitt' .
Dinner at a branch of Ruby Tuesday. Large portions.
Sometimes I can't believe the contrast between the life in Manhattan that is going on, 20 miles away, and our little suburban corner of Long Island. I'm sure if the twenty-something Manhattanites from the bar last night had envisaged our Saturday, they would have been horrified. But this weekend, I'm happy to have experienced a bit of both.