My last blog entry ended with a reference to a week's diving holiday in Egypt. Now, I promise I WILL get around to writing about that week eventually. But first I've got to finish off about New York, and then my long weekend in Barcelona, and then a quick dash down to Austria, plus sundry other exciting happenings. So...

Picture it: New York, early 21st century, warm spring weather. After a morning where the most strenuous task was getting a tan line from my undies in Rich's garden, we headed into the city and had a mad walk around a bunch of sights: Times Square (New York's Piccadilly Circus), the Radio City Music Hall (an orgy of art deco), the Rockefeller Plaza (fabulous statue of Prometheus), the Channel Gardens (between France House and England House), St Patrick's Cathedral (a pleasingly gloomy proper-looking church), 5th Avenue (replete with haute couture boutiques à la Cartier), the Russian Tea Rooms (with a full-on red carpet) Carnegie Hall (boring on the outside, sadly), and - the pièce de résistance this - Jamba Juice, a new chain of healthy juice & snack bars, where we quickly refuelled on vitamins before joining the queue for the production of Chicago that we got last-minute tickets at the start of our big walk. And, to round the day off nicely, a walk down 7th Avenue after the show and a drink with Rich's chorus friends in Monster. Very NY!

My fifth day was completely different from all the others. It was in fact a day trip out of the stress of the city. Rich took me over the Throgs Neck Bridge and through Long Island to Fire Island, to visit their exclusive holiday apartment in one of the exclusive communities nestled in nature reserve on this island south of Long Island, and about a two-hour journey from his home in New Jersey. We couldn't have wished for better weather - bright and sunny, with a refreshing breeze - and our breakfast stop at a classic diner in Sayville augured well for the day too, as we had a lot of fun with the Greek lady refilling our coffees and generally being quintessentially American.

We got a ferry across from the car park (there are no cars on Fire Island, so people were hauling all sorts of stuff on little luggage wheels, like flat-screen TVs and air conditioning units; it reminded me faintly of Jaipur!) and then walked along the boardwalks to Rich & Paul's apartment. This being just before the official start of the summer season, there was still work being done on the buildings to get them tip-top after the winter, so we didn't have any satellite reception. I must admit though that this wasn't in the slightest a problem for me, because it just made the place feel all the more special.

After lunching on the bagels (cinnamon raisin - ooh yeah baby, bring it on!) that we had picked up on the way out from Teaneck, we went for a walk along the beach. Wow! Pristine white sand! Not a cloud in the sky! Hardly a soul on the beach! We had the place to the three of us: me, Rich, and Rich's monster kite, that he reeled out into the brisk blustery breeze and flew the whole time we were walking.

Rich told me that, owing to a quirk of the law, this beach is one of only a handful on the whole of America's east coast that is nudist - not that there was anyone bearing all on this pre-season Tuesday afternoon! Almost all other beaches come under state jurisdiction, and they tend to be very prudish about that sort of thing, but this one is federally governed because is it part of the federal nature reserve that makes up the whole island, bar a few small communities of summer homes that started life as fishing colonies that predate the setting-up of the reserve and got grandfathered in.

We met up with Ray again (he has decided to spend a lot of time out on the island this summer, as he doesn't start his new job until the winter) and walked with him to the Belvedere Hotel, an über-exclusive overnight option (we're talking several hundred dollars a night), where we were lucky enough to get a sneak tour of the place whilst it's being renovated - Ray knows the owners.

And then, just as some hideous clouds began to gather and draw towards the island, we caught the ferry back to Sayville and headed back into civilisation. Continuing my culinary peregrination through all the USA has to offer, Rich cooked me & Paul a delightful dinner of steak and corn and potatoes. And let's not forget the cheeky hottub before bedtime!

Oh woe was me! I had reached my last day in the States! We made it a good-un though. In the spirit of saving the best till last, we decided to do a boat tour to the Statue of Liberty, taking in of course all the sights of downtown New York in the process. We drove to the New Jersey terminus of one of about two-and-a-half public transport ways to go to New York, which took the form of a big car park just off a freeway in the middle of nowhere, and caught a bus which went through the tunnel under the Hudson River and let us out in the centre of town.

We went and had some hot dogs (tick that culinary checklist) and then a slice of pizza (tick tick) which I ate in the traditional NY manner, grasping the crust and folding it downwards to collect the grease and dribble it down my wrist. Then we walked to the ferry terminal, crossing New York's only cycle path, and heading past the protesting anti-China-doing-bad-things-in-Tibet crowds outside the Chinese consulate, and did the tour. I think I took about 150 photos in those twenty minutes!

Then we walked across town to the Museum of Modern Art, where we enjoyed a fab exhibition on colour and another fab exhibition on the fusion of design and science, as well as taking in some of their permanent collection. Fantastic! Back at the bus terminal I grabbed a pastrami sandwich (tick it good!) and then we jumped back on the bus that had taken us in that morning.

From the park & ride, it was a quick quarter of an hour's drive to Newark airport. Rich dropped me off and that was that. Bye bye America. It was a strangely sudden end to what had been a fabulously varied and enjoyable almost-week Stateside.

No, no, that's just too sudden an ending to my description too! Instead, I'll give you a little vignette from one morning, when Rich & Paul's cleaner, a lady by the name of Earlise, came into the kitchen one morning as we were getting breakfast ready. She sniffed the air delicately, and wondered aloud what could have gone off to smell so bad. At first we were puzzled, but then it clicked: Rich explained that what Earlise could smell was our fruity purchase from the cheesemonger, pointing at the rind of a few of the cheeses on a chopping board on the side. To which she said, somewhat pointedly, "And you're still gonna eat that?" !!!

And one last bit of one-upmanship from our American cousins. As we all know, Anglo-Saxon economies take the issue of customer choice a little more seriously than some European quarters. So, where in Germany there's just one kind of orange juice, in the UK we have the choice between "smooth" and "with juicy bits". But not in America. Oh no! They have to go one better: I could choose between "no pulp", "some pulp" and "lots of pulp". Take that, Old World!