St Patrick's Day

Last Thursday dawned bright and sunny. I presume. I can tell you with certainty that at noon when Timon and I got up the sun was shining and the air was still. The TV was overrun with the broadcast of the 250th St Patricks Day Parade - hours and hours of marching bands, Irish policemen and twirling ribbon dancers. So, instead of enduring that in our apartment we decided to venture out into what was sure to be a city filled with drunken frat boys and gingers aplenty. We arranged to meet up with Michelle and Frans (our new Sydney-ite friends) at an Irish pub on the east side called the Pig 'n' Whistle. On the way we jumped off the subway at 81st Street and took our first walk through the park. It really is astonishing how quickly the snow has melted. It feels like yesterday that there were blizzards and panic throughout the city, endless news reports on the frustrations of the long, white winter. We took some of the quieter paths within the park to avoid the crowds and an unnatural amount of green clothing. The trees, while bare, form a stunning scene against the highrise buildings in the background. The Great American Elm apparently. It was warm enough that we could go without coats for the first time in yonkers. But not warm enough for sunbaking and the general summery behaviour that was going on. It never ceases to amaze me when people from the northern hemisphere catch a glimpse of sun and strip off. It could only have been 18 degrees tops. But we enjoyed it - we parked ourselves on a rocky outcrop and people-watched, listened to the passing bagpipes as the parade moved up 5th Avenue. When it was time to move on we maneuvered through the crowds, passed the Plaza, down to 50th and cut across in front of the marchers from Cork. It was quieter on the far side but there were still heaps of uber-drunks lining the sidewalk. We found the pub easily as it was around the corner from our old haunt The Pod Hotel. Unfortunately the place was jam-packed with people, so much so that the balcony looked like a sardine can. Inside it was barely possible to move and the line for the bar was 5 deep. And this was at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. They were playing weird Irish themed tunes like the Cranberries and Falling Slowly and serving all drinks in plastic cups. We spent a couple of hours with M & F and their other Aussie friends yelling to each other in the crowded pub and then jumped ship for home.

It's amazing how much difference the sun can make. I'm sure I'd not really appreciated this city until I was walking through Central Park. We didn't have to wear 10 layers of clothing, negotiate slippery ice paths or giant puddles. I almost needed sunscreen.