IT'S FRIDAY, I MUST BE IN NEW YORK

Ah, New York, New York. The city so nice, they've sent me there twice.

(alternate lame pun opening: "Are U.N.?")

I’ve actually been to New York City more than twice before, but I still have to warm up to the whole "Capitol of the World" thing they’re pushing. The city has its unique appeal, of course, but so does D.C., Seattle, Chonqing, Ha Noi, Singapore, Cebu, Manila and every other place I've trolled. In fact, I feel kind of bad for those too-cool-for-school New Yorkers who feel they're at the center of the universe, but who haven't actually seen for themselves a fraction of the rest of the world out there. They literally don't know what they're missing.

What New York City is is BIG, and what it has is overpowering P.R. Somehow, the city is able to stamp "Best/Only in New York" on stuff you can find elsewhere - heck, they might even be BETTER elsewhere! Bright lights, Big Skyline? I dunno, Central Hong Kong is pretty damn good. Fine/classical arts? They're more at home in Rome. Billion-dollar deals and rockin' music scene? London*, I say.

(*hey, whaddya know, I was right)

On the flip side, New York is able to wrap the "charm" label around things other cities would rather not have, or simply find...um...disagreeable. You name it. Old, steamy subway? Charm! Suffocating streets and sidewalks? More charm! Overpriced everything? I'm telling you, charm! Trying-hard trendsetters? Charm, dammit, CHARM!

Then add an overconcentration of real and wanna-be artists/actors/writers/reporters/fashionistas etc. letting you know (and reinforcing each other) that a non-New York life is a life less fortunate, and - bam! - "Live! From New York! The Greatest City in the World."

To be sure, there’s nothing wrong with some hometown pride if you’re a true New Yorker. Your sincere spirit is, in fact, a joy for others to experience. On the other hand, if you’re acting all high and haughty, and you’re just a transplant who's seen too many reruns of Friends, Felicity, and Sex in the City . . .

Thing is, I've talked to dozens of lawyers and diplomats - Philippine and foreign - who've actually seen, worked, LIVED the corners of the globe (New York included). There is absolutely no consensus from them that ANY city could, or even SHOULD, make a play for the "Greatest" tag. Even those posted at U.N. HQ want to get to their next assignment and adventure. They’ve just seen so much that they know there is still so much more to see. And they would find it unfair to be limited to - or by - New York.

New York loves it some New York. Fine. Why not? It’s when there’s little regard for anything non-New York, when there’s no accounting for Big Apples-to-Oranges differences, that I don’t heart NY as much.

Yes, it’s a nice place. I know. I get it.

You've told me twice already.


Before we start working, we get to shrug off some jet lag over the weekend by driving through parts of upstate New York, Massachusetts and Vermont. We stumble on the postcard pretty scene above when our GPS glitches and we make a wrong turn.

We left Manila right after local government elections. We arrive in the U.S. during - you guessed it - local government elections! (although in the States, the candidates don't set their jingles to Elvis or "The Spaghtetti Song")

Autumn in Vermont was as beautiful as advertised. The shivering LLDD . . . not as much.

The Bennington Memorial. Apparently, you want to see a hundred-foot century-old stone obelisk battle monument, by golly, y'all head on over to Vermont.

Gorgeous scenery all around, although there were also abandoned houses and rusting cars every so often. Plus, it was so cold out we literally went miles without seeing another living creature . . .

. . . and would occassionally pass through neighborhoods that - while pretty - in the fading light brought to mind every Stephen King novel ever made. Needless to state, we high-tail it back to the city before dark (buck-buck-braaawwwwkkk!)

Ah, yes ... back to the safety of a diplomat's residence, sipping Yoo-Hoo.

Russian Tea Room. Wonderfully trippy place. Basement has a great display of ornate Faberge eggs and those Russian dolls-in-dolls. First floor is covered in blood red walls and furniture. Second floor (above) is accented by . . .

. . . a golden tree with egg-shaped lanterns, on one end . . .

. . . and on the other end, a clear plastic giant bear filled with water and two goldfish on a sloooooowly revolving platform. The movement was so imperceptible you could stare at it and not notice anything . . . but look down to finish your soup . . . suddenly . . . aiiiiigh!!! . . . THERE'S A CLEAR PLASTIC GIANT BEAR FILLED WITH WATER AND TWO GOLDFISH ABOUT TO JUMP ME!!!

Strand's, a more hip, less franchise-y type bookstore. I could've stayed in this place for hours, except some particularly loud NYU students came in and ruined it for everyone (probable the same guys who'd sell their vote for an i-Pod).

Rockefeller Plaza. Just not the same without Al Roker.

The Waldorf-Astoria (with St. Bart's in the foreground). I was a bit underwhelmed by the Hotel. I know its old, but I didn't get much sense of grandeur or history. One of my bosses points out it's where J-Lo shot Maid in Manhattan. Um . . . that didn't help. At all.

Few things in Times Square are really that impressive, however (Part I) . . . the sight of this limo successfully parallel parking into a space I'd swear two Volkswagens wouldn't fit into literally made us stop in our tracks and applaud.

Few things in Times Square are really that impressive, however (Part II) . . . when I saw this high definition giant-jumbotron above a two-storey M & M store, well, I just took a knee and wept.



Few things in Times Square are really that impressive, however (Part III) . . . chicks sure dig motorcycle cops lined-up in their double-breasted leather jackets.

Down to a couple days of serious work. Fortunately, the U.N. had a couple of cool lounges like this one all around where people could hang with their, you know, diplomates.

I try to memorize all the past UNGA Presidents (in case its on the final exam). This is just outside the Assembly Hall, and right before I have a most embarassing experience. As I'm seated in my place near the front waiting for the Philippines to address the body, I get this weird taste in my mouth. I'm thinking it must be something I had for lunch, or an aftertaste of my vitamins, so I just shrug it off. After a couple of minutes, I get this wet feeling on my fingers, and notice I got ink all over my hands. Not a big deal, I say. I'll just wipe it off with some paper. Then it hits me: I like to chew on my pens and pencils . . . egad, I must have smeared ink on my face too!!! I try to bolt for the bathroom, but then the Philippines begins its statement, and now I have to sit in front of the U.N. General Assembly for 10 minutes with ink all over my face! If nothing othing else, I confirm that other-people-looking-at-you-and-using-their-index-finger-to-motion-whisking-the-side-of-their-mouth-and-cheek is indeed the universal signal for "Dude, you've got some crap on your face."

Security Council chamber. Never thought I'd ever get to set foot in this place. The room really does have a weight-of-history feel to it. And I'm fascinated by the mural looking down on everything: it didn't seem European, could be Latin, and I'd swear there were some Amorsolo qualities and life-of-Rizal themes in it. Remind me to Google the thing.

The LLDD hangs with some decidedly NOT lame legal eagles. I gained 20 IQ points just being in this picture.

After the last day's hard work, I get to watch "Cyrano!" (hehehe). Kevin Kline was really good - he had the audience hanging on his every word, gesture and nuance. Jennifer Garner, on the other hand, was relatively flat (in fact, I didn't recognize her onstage until 20 minutes in; and she wasn't even the one covered by a giant prosthetic nose!). Still, I'm lucky. Just a week later, Broadway goes dark.

You tell someone the above picture was taken in any other city, they'd probably say "ewwwww." You tell them it was actually taken in the NY subway, they'd shift and say "awwwww, it's New York." Heck, they might even pass it off as some sort of street art.

And finally, Grand Central Station (with the Chrysler building in the background). Long story, but I got left behind the theater and had to take the subway back to the hotel. As I exit the station and cross the street, I happen to pass next to a police van with a smashed window, with broken glass all over the street. I didn't even really notice it until a Michael Rappaport type guy comes up to me and yells "DID YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS?" I shrug, and just keep on walking. As I'm walking away, I look back and see the guy still glaring at me, nodding his head upward and mouthing "What? What?"

So charming.