Take my breath away

~ Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, 

but by the moments that take our breath away ~

I began my day with Yoga and the instructor said this session would be about 'courage'. As we sat with our eyes closed, she read out a quote about cowards and it resonated with me greatly. I dived deeper into my downward dogs and widened my warriors. After an hour and a half of intense twisting and turning I felt invigorated. Where have you been all my life yoga? I can tell we are going to have a long-lasting relationship; one that will end with 'happy babies'.

It was a perfect Fall day in New York City and all I wanted to do was be outside! What better place to bask in this balminess than Central Park? I grabbed a fresh juice from the local Health Food Store and made my way to the closest subway.

Caught up in Manhattan's momentum, I picked up the pace and decided to skip the subway station - thinking perhaps I'll get the train from Grand Central instead. But at 42nd Street Michael Jackson interrupted my Ipod and I couldn't stop 'til I got enough' so I kept walking...and walking...until before I knew it I had covered 48 blocks and reached the southern end of Central Park.

I entered the park and gasped. I felt like I had stepped into a postcard. The trees around me exuded every shade of red and orange. Their leaves fell gracefully, some landed at my feet. There were kids to my left giggling contagiously as they threw them at each other. Up ahead an old man played the saxophone; injecting even more colour into the park as he sang the blues.

The Bethesda Fountain was looking exceptionally pretty. 

Nearby, there was a man creating giant bubbles. Kids ran up to him and popped the rainbows.

By the stairs of the fountain were a bride and groom. They were lost in a kiss and unbeknownst to them, their photographer was capturing the moment for them to look back on in years to come.

I headed towards the lake, where happy families were wading in cute, little rowboats and feeding the ducks. 

There were so many beautiful scenes all unfolding in the one place. I did a full circle and tried to take it all in, wishing desperately I could bottle this bliss. 

I headed towards the foot-tunnel. It's famous for movies such as Home Alone 2 and Stuart Little. I could hear amazing music coming from there...

I squeezed past the crowds and was surprised to find only a family of four standing there. An older boy and three young children were singing harmoniously and clapping to their own beat. I couldn't believe how professional their performance sounded. There were no instruments - just their angelic voices, amplified by the acoustics of the tunnel.  I was so moved. Despite my fast-disappearing finances, I felt compelled to contribute to their donations box.

I walked to the main lawn of the park - and passed roller-bladers, (champion) Frisbee players and the world's best looking dogs on my way. I sprawled out on the green. To one side of me was the Manhattan city skyline, to the other, Autumn in it's most artistic form. Out of nowhere, I started crying. But my tears were far from salty. I was just so happy; so happy that I was literally overflowing.

I ran through the park and exited uptown at Columbus Circle. There was a big crowd and lots of camera equipment. I couldn't see much but I could sense the excitement! Just when I thought my day couldn't get any better - it did. Here was a movie in the making!

I found a nearby street lamp and stepped up onto its base. There was Ben Stiller! He was running down the street in a business suit. The celebrity stopped nearby for a drink of water, while make-up artists fixed his hair. The back of the director chairs read "Tower Heist". I made a mental note. I can't wait to watch this movie in months to come and be taken back to this moment.

The series of exhilarating events called for celebration. I wanted chocolate! I headed towards the Time Warner Center for the great, golden Godiva Chocolatier. This stuff is heaven by-the-bite. There were so many specialty truffles to choose from and at $2.50 a piece, it was the hardest decision I had to make all day. Finally, I settled on three: carrot cake, roasted almond and acia berry.

The lady behind the counter said "Our new line of dessert chocolates have just arrived, I'll throw some samples in for free." I nearly hugged her.

She could have given me one or 100 chocolates; as far as I was concerned, this day couldn't have got any sweeter.

I'm going to be sick...Pho Sure

Today my co-workers and I ventured out for Vietnamese. After a scenic walk through West Village, we arrived at the corner of Bleeker and Bedford Streets - at a tiny restaurant named, Pho Sure. I was told what it lacked in size, it made up for in its sandwiches.

CEO Ray, said, "Coby, you have to get the Banh Mi. It's a classic!" and everyone agreed. For those Vietnamese-food virgins out there, Banh Mi is a popular baguette made up of pate, pickled carrots, dai kon, cucumbers, cilantro, mayonnaise and meat - in this instance pork belly.

We walked to the Hudson River Pier. It was breathtaking! I sat and took in the beautiful views - while ingesting my less-than-beautiful breadroll.

I struggled to understand what all the rave was about. The pork was minced and braised in bright red jelly. When combined with the pate, it created a lumpy glue in my mouth. I panned around at the others, who were enthusiastically munching away...only stopping to let out the occasional "mmm" and "yum". So I pushed through. I didn't want to knock back, what was widely considered to be, a Manhattan "must-have"!

When in Rome...do as the Romans do*. Right?

*Does not apply to people with sensitive stomachs whom are considering trying a new, international cuisine.

I'll spare the details. But let's just say this 'Banh' was not for 'mi'.

I'm told Pho Sure is worth revisiting. Apparently it serves a mean soup made of Bull's Penis. But I don't have the balls to try it.

An Icon of Tradgedy; A Sign of Comfort

This steel beam was found within the rubble of the World Trade Centres two days after September 11, 2001.

It became a sign of hope and healing for many rescue workers, who searched the site for the remains of innocent thousands who perished in the terrorist attacks.

Nine years on, Ground Zero stills projects a very raw image. There lies a gaping hole; a vast, vacant that is unwillingly exposed. Once home to the two tallest buildings in the world, the 'World Trade Centre Site' is now 'Ground Zero', just 16 acres of harsh memories. The rubble may be cleared, but the sentiment is not.

New York is a noisy city - where you struggle to hear yourself think, over honking horns, screeching subways and crazy crowds. But on this day, the anniversary of 9/11, the Financial District was eerily quiet. But the sense of despair was deafening.

On the evening of every anniversary, two vibrant, vertical columns of blue light are projected high into the night's sky, in remembrance of the attacks. This year, the weather was overcast and some 10,000 birds were attracted to the lights, mistaking them for starlight - which they rely on to guide their navigation. The bedazzled birds are a testament to the memorial and how mesmerising it really is.

I take a stab at life as a New Yorker

A beautiful neighbourhood in Midtown Manhattan, Murray Hill is now the place I call 'home'. A suburb overflowing with rowdy restaurants and busy bars, where residents walk their expensive dogs down its pretty, tree-lined streets.

There is a great deli on the corner - where I can grab my token "Bagel & Schmear". Next to that, a fresh flower shop where businessmen of Wall Street grab a dozen roses on the way home to make up for missing dinner, yet again. Then, there is a subway located just two blocks away (the 6 Line, not the 6 inch kind).

My best discovery so far, has been the local "Wash & Dry". I dropped off my dirty clothes and returned an hour later to find them all cleaned, dried and neatly folded. It was like Mum has done my washing! I suddenly find myself missing home and maintaining eye contact with the Asian lady for far too long. Thank you Chinese Mum...this washing detergent smells of nostalgia and for that, I will tip you generously :)

So I'm feeling good about my amazing apartment, located in this safe, serene suburb. Until.. I checked out Gothamist for the daily New York news and read: Gang Stabbing in E 26 Street.

Two men stabbed - repeatedly in the chest, leaving one dead. It had happened just footsteps away... and at 9:30 AM! A drug dealer left for dead - in sheer daylight.

That's when it sinks in. I am in New York. A crazy city where crime gives no consideration to your ZIP code. Owner of a French Mastiff or not, shit happens.

That's just life in the Big Apple! Gorgeous one day, gang stabbing the next.

"However vague they are, dreams have a way of concealing themselves and leave us no peace until they are translated into reality, like seeds germinating underground, sure to sprout in their search for the sunlight." - Lin Yutang

My New York seed was sown in December 2007.

Stepping out into Times Square I experienced a sensory overload - the winter wind, blinking billboards, honking horns...is that a donut I can smell?

My Brisbane brain had never felt so besieged. Everything inflated, overstated, exaggerated.

Materialistic? Maybe. But noone can deny its chaotic charisma and addictive aura.

Two and a half years later and I still couldn't shake the feeling of unfinished business. I needed to return. But this time I wanted to experience it like one of the many million who work there. Bagel in one hand, blackberry in the other; both offering their own morning buzz.

I wanted to mingle with marketing masterminds and be amongst the bigwigs!

My seed has found it's sunlight, in the offer of a digital marketing traineeship, in Soho, Manhattan.

I'm coming back to you Big Apple. Here's hoping I haven't bitten off more than I can chew...

Miss Manhattan.