Yesterday was Labour Day in America (although I keep calling it Labour Weekend, which throws off all the Americans), so I’ve been trying to take things a bit slower.

My first two weeks in New York have been great, but the city has so much potential - and I’m so acutely conscious of the need to make the most of it - that I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed.

The start of last week finally gave me the structure I needed. I still hadn’t started classes (those begin this week), but it was Orientation Week. I managed to get inducted into the library by a lovely man who happened to be born in Glasgow - proof that Scottish connections are everywhere - worked out how to navigate the SVA computer system, paid my tuition fees, and ticked off a few other crucial life-admin tasks.

We had a scary orientation session for international students, covering all the recent US government visa and work-authorisation changes. New regulations seem to be dropping weekly - to the point where even the international office is struggling to keep up - but they were as reassuring as they could be.

Naturally, I had my first mini-breakdown that evening when I went looking for stock cubes and couldn’t find a single one despite visiting three stores. In fact, I couldn’t actually find anything I wanted, so I ended up buying pasta and a very weird American sausage to create a mediocre meal. (Luckily, a friend walked me through every single aisle of Trader Joe’s yesterday, so I’m feeling significantly more knowledgeable and slightly less culinary-impaired).

On Wednesday night, as part of orientation, I went to a comedy show. A week prior I’d been to the legendary Comedy Cellar, so I was looking forward to seeing a performance in SVA’s very own theatre. It was only upon sitting down that I realised I was potentially the over-eager graduate student who had accidentally crashed an undergraduate event. But what could I do? It was free, and I didn’t want to get picked on by the comedian for leaving early.

I will say this: 18-year-old undergraduates are a tough crowd to please. They sort of chuckle politely and then immediately go dead silent, so the comedian had her work cut out for her. The complete absence of alcohol didn’t help the atmosphere either. Still, the comedian eventually got into the swing of things and - while not the best I’ve ever seen which is hard because I’ve gone to the Fringe for many years - was doing a decent job.

That was until the final 20 minutes when she was heckled by a young student who called her a “sad, single loser”. Yes, it was very rude and completely uncalled for. Though, upon reflection, I think this 18-year-old simply didn’t understand basic comedy club etiquette and - in their defence - the comedian was asking for audience participation (albeit aiming for a slightly more positive response).

What I did not expect was for this comment to trigger a full-blown existential breakdown from the comedian, who proceeded to rip into the student and then utterly failed to recover her set. The rest of the gig was agonisingly awkward, shrouded in complete silence. I guess New York is the city of dreams….and nightmares.

Thursday night was far more successful: a trip to see Aladdin on Broadway. Though - don’t hate me if you’re a musical lover- I just don’t think Disney musicals translate that well to live Broadway performances (I have yet to see The Lion King, so I shall withhold final judgement until then). Earlier that morning, I’d met some fellow international postgrads and went for a drink with a few of my cohort. They were all brilliant, which got me very excited for our class induction today.

After Aladdin, I hopped straight onto a 12:00 AM FlixBus to endure an overnight drive up to Brunswick, Maine. My old flatmate from my Glasgow Uni days lives in Boston, and she’d invited me to her family home on the coast for the holiday weekend. I arrived promptly at 7:30 AM, and so my Labour Weekend began.

Her family has a beautiful house in Edgecomb, right on the Boothbay coast. The whole extended family was up for the weekend, so I felt instantly at home amidst the bustling crowd. What ensued was a glorious weekend of wild swims, incredible food, and much-needed time away from screens.

On Saturday, we went for two swims: one at a local lake and another at a gorgeous beach in Boothbay. For the past year, I’ve been living in Inverness, and prior to that I was in the Isle of Skye, so I’m happiest when I’m near the water. I know Manhattan is technically an island, but it felt divine to escape the concrete jungle and be within a five-minute drive of proper sea air again. Plus, the weather was glorious. That evening, we had a lovely dinner on their wooden deck, and I recounted my recent travel troubles, which provided plenty of laughs at my expense.

Sunday was spent exploring Monhegan Island - featuring yet another swim - followed by another wonderful family dinner. My friend drove me back to Boston on Monday morning, and we spent the day wandering around her neighbourhood and visiting her cousin and a friend’s beautiful new flats in the South End.

Their places were insane. Both work high-powered corporate jobs, and their rooftop flats with sweeping city views certainly reflected that. I felt very lucky, slightly like Jack in Titanic after getting upgraded to first class, and immensely grateful to my friend for being such a generous host. We spent the evening sipping wine on the terrace as the sun went down. (I did have an awkward run-in with a very fancy, hyper-intelligent toilet equipped with a bidet function, but that is a tale for another day).

I’m now sitting on the train back to New York, and this is the first time I’ve been properly on my phone all weekend - always the sign of a proper holiday. I’m feeling deeply relaxed and ready to tackle my very first class…which starts in about an hour!

The Rambling Celt

New York - Week Three