New York leaves me feeling middle aged

Last week, off to New York City ... before I'd even had time to unpack my bags properly from Tunisia. I'm not used to this much travel any more. Having taken three trips in, and been on the road for, most of the past 8 weeks, it's perhaps not surprising that I came back from New York with a miserable cold and am just getting back to normal, almost a week later.

New York has never been one of my favourite cities. It's probably the midwesterner in me. Growing up, St. Louisans always seemed to regard New York with a mix of admiration, longing, fear and hatred. I'm past my juvenile prejudices, and having spent more than half my working life in London I am now comfortable with big cities. But there's still something about New York that leaves me a bit cold. I suspect it's the combination of the relentless pace, the endless canyons of concrete, the noise and the lack of trees.

Those feelings were exacerbated this trip by the location of our hotel: The W on Times Square. If, like me, you like quiet green spaces and old world elegance, this place is not for you. It's basically like staying in a nightclub. The ground floor lobby is a stark, grey cube filled with club music and funky light features. Head up to the lobby on 7 and you step into the middle of a funky lounge/bar with artistic lighting and seating, where beautiful 20-somethings are knocking back martinis and the music has been turned up a few more notches. You have to work hard to find the reception desk, tucked discretely to one side. If I were on holiday with friends, and the intent of the trip had been fun, fashion and alcohol, this might have been fun. Arriving at 1:30 in the morning, on a business trip, after a 5 hour flight delay and with the prospect of a 9am meeting ahead, it all just made me grumpy.

The rooms continue the nightclub theme. Everything is sparse, minimal, black or grey. The lighting is so low as to be a bit ludicrous. Achingly cool light cubes under the side tables give the room a dramatic glow, but there are no overhead lights to get the room lighting past anything beyond dim. My colleagues joked that they ought to give anyone over 40 a flashlight when checking in.

On the positive side, the location is spectacular. Easy walking distance to many important locations, particularly (a) the office and (b) Rockefeller Centre and Saks.

The trendy theme continued on Halloween night, when our corporate outing was to a nightclub in the meat packing district called Lotus. All this hip stuff is courtesy of my vice president, who is one of the most fashionable and "in style" people I know. There's a clubbing 25-year old lurking not too far beneath the senior executive surface.

Rated a top 5 New York hot spot by Zagat, Lotus is the kind of place I felt I'd visited many times before ... mostly when watching episodes of Alias. The music mix was great. The decor was minimal and black, draped with swathes on red cloth and hanging skeletons for the holiday. The bar served up a fine mix of cocktails; I quickly settled into apple martinis of a calibre and icy temperature you don't often encounter in London. The food is Thai ... good if unremarkable ... and came to our group of 14 on large platters for sharing across the night.

"Halloween has become quite an adult holiday in America: in multiple senses of
the word."

As we were finishing our dinner the regulars started coming in, and I realised how much Halloween has changed since I left the States. Clearly, it's a seriously adult holiday. And, at least in New York, I'd use the word "adult" with all its nuances. Women were dressed as pirates, angels, devils, maids or Alice in Wonderland, all unified by their exceptionally short skirts, plunging necklines, push-up bras and spiky heels. I think the men in our party were enjoying themselves greatly. The fact that we all had to be at the office at 8 the next morning, and the sad reality that we were increasingly out of place as the club filled up with these costumed deities of sex, were a double reality check that sent most of us heading for the ride back to the hotel around 11.

The night before I'd dined in a different world: quiet modern elegance a stone's throw from Rockefeller Centre. I met my friend Lisa, with whom I'd just gone to Tunisia, at The Modern, the bar associated with the Museum of Modern Art. Another stage set of sparse, modern design, solid colours, draped fabrics, low lighting ... this time mostly in white and with a crowd that had a decade or more on the denizens of Lotus. On from there to Anthos, a restaurant at the heart of what is evidently a Greek revival in NYC. I was a bit surprised when Lisa suggested Greek ... pastitio, moussaka, roditis and baklava make good comfort food, but hardly seemed appropriate for fashionable mid-town Manhattan.

There's a reason they call this "New Aegean". The "Greek" is only a faint influence, present mostly in the platter of mezze that comes courtesy of the chef whilst you're perusing the menu. It was certainly the most elegantly served mezze I'd ever seen, with tiny cubes of fried holoumi artfully arranged on skewers next to a small pot of fish roe dip with pinkie-sized bread sticks custom made for dipping. The menu was heavy on fish, as you would expect. I saw some beautiful smoked Octopus go by but settled on a rich seafood risotto. We shared a trio of sorbets to honour our memories of Tunisia. The arrival of the bill reminded me that New York is probably just as expensive as London, and perhaps would be more so if not for the strong pound. Two courses and a bottle of wine for $80 a person is certainly no bargain.

Of course, bargains are not the point of New York. Fashion, 24-hour activity and making money are. And I seemed to get a taste of all of those this time. Not bad for a business trip. Even if you are feeling a bit too middle aged to fit in fully.