A few days in New York, our first few days.

They say you can take the boy out of the bush, but can you take the bush out the boy?

Having arrived at JFK and finding the children waiting for us, a taxi boarded for the city. Having been on the wrong side of the plane we'd missed the unique skyline of Manhattan. Stories of taxi drivers in NY fresh in my mind, I sat forward to help him with driving trips, his attitude and skills having my approval, I sat back to enjoy the views manifesting themselves outside my window.

Manhattan island, adorned with a skyline second to none, made its appearance, I thought of Neil Diamonds song and what an impression the immigrants must have had when arriving by ship years ago (I hadn't slept all night so the family forgave me my stupidity). Forgetting that it was them that built Manhattan, it was not already there, but my first impression amazed me. Deposited at our hotel on the island I was keen to explore, we had arrived at 7 am NY time, my watch said something else, but my stomach said “breakfast, lunch or supper, no matter, food I want.”

A block or so away from the hotel, a corner café, I wondered at the array of food available and settled for a Muffin the size of a loaf of bread at home. The wife more conservative scrambled eggs and toast, amazingly the owner, worker or whoever behind the counter, cooked this as well as made the coffee and collected payment. What no waiters, no cook, no cleaners, one man did the lot. We thought of Linda's coffee shop back home and all the employees she had.

Next stop the underground. In South Africa the only things that go down are miners, snakes and moles. We about to join the group. My son-in-law played with a machine that spat out tickets, allowing us access to the platform. A mole train came rushing down the tracks, “not this one Dad” shouted my daughter, why not I thought and asked, and told I must wait for a certain number. These things were unbelievable, rushed in stopped opened doors, a crowed exit and crowd enter, doors closed and gone in seconds, or so it seemed. I could stand here and watch all day, this fascinated me. Ours arrived and off we went. Now a bush boy from the south has a good sense of direction, but underground, lost.

A shove from the back told me to exit, we had reached where ever it was we were going. Up the stairs towards the light gave me that feeling an underground mine worker must experience when exiting the mine. Ground level had me lost, was I facing North, East or West, no idea. The first stop was at the area of destruction, 9/11, this was when I felt the patriotism of the American people. Flags, messages, flowers, all adorning the area of disaster, that had happened almost six months before. Photos from afar gave no idea how immense the area was.

From there a walk to a Starbucks, American coffee how would it compare. Different from anything I had experienced, but then I'm not a coffee drinker. Back underground and another sojourn waiting for the mole train, this one took us up city, down city who knows where. Exiting near Central Park, a short walk past Trump towers, Elizabeth Arden, and Walt Disney all known names to us. A ride in a horse-drawn carriage, through central park, an experience I enjoyed, followed by a walk, and then up or down town to experience the lights, sights and sounds of Times Square. Much later, back to the hotel, as we had begun early, the bed called us all, not knowing what excitement awaited us tomorrow.

The early morning saw me awake long before the rest, I needed coffee, something available at any time I'd been told. The pavement reached, orientating myself, I took off in search of a supplier. Three blocks down success, and after convincing the Asian woman behind the counter I needed help, I had my coffee. Wondering why it necessary to have so many differing flavours, I headed back to the hotel. What happened next I was not expecting, accosted by a “Lady of the night” that wondered if I'd be interested in a good time early morning quickie. In shock my English left me and I answered in Afrikaans. Her reply, “....ing foreigners” had me increasing speed homeward, only a half block later to have a “big” African-American, adorned to the hilt with “bling”, stopping me.

Now this South African was not going to allow a “big” man to convince him he should part with his money. I prepared the coffee for a face shot and asked if I could help. “Do you know where 42nd street is?” his question, “two blocks that way” I answered pointing in a direction. Thanking me he left, I felt bad, I had judge a person by his appearance and surely had sent him in the wrong direction, but then survival, my motto, had prevailed.

Reaching the hotel in one piece, I realised the stories heard of another country, should not always be believed. I had not been robbed or mugged, I had my coffee and was safely back at the hotel.