I remember paying R1200 for a meal in London during those horror years when the pound was almost 20 times the value of the Rand. Well, New York isn't too far behind. I've just spent R824 on dinner for one at Nobu. Was it worth it? Yes, but only just. Having to book a month in advance for the table and select from one of two sittings was a little annoying but the Omakase - eight-course tasting menu was extremely delicious. The rock lobster tempura with shitake mushrooms in a creamy spicy sauce is notable as is the fabulous broiled black cob - marinated for three days served with foie gras and pickled scallions and stem ginger. They are possibly two of the best Japanese dishes I have eaten.

Earlier in the day I had a vegetarian fajita with guac and corn chips, a little later a cappu with chocolate fondant cake and later still a frozen latte. Greenwich Village is my favorite part of New York and despite spending at least five hours walking in its charming tree-lined streets today, I feel I could spend an entire month just discovering it. The walk from GV to TriBeCa, where Nobu is situated, took me around 30-minutes of fast paced trotting - trying to keep my heart rate up without breaking into too much of a sweat. I haven't weighed myself since I've been here but, judging from this picture and the fit of my trousers, I don't think I've put on too much.

Yesterday, I had the ultimate shoe-high sandwich at the Second Avenue Deli and a week ago I was treated to lunch at 21 - New York's culinary institution. In between munching Kellogg's Special K and low-fat yogurt at home, I've been sampling what the city has to offer. It really is a culinary heaven - in every street there is a large selection of  places to visit at vastly different prices - although even the cheapest meal for under $10 is still more than the average meal back home.

As a teen wanting to escape the perceived drudgery of suburban life I, instead of turning to drink and drugs, turned the pages of GQ magazine (look out for my article in the November issue). When my need for connection to the world of  glamour became overwhelming, I would call international directory enquiries and ask for arbitrary numbers just to hear the voice of the American operator on the other side of the phone. Such was the malaise of my teens.

Plans to meet Candice Bushnell were thwarted by my dogged refusal to follow instructions. I don't know why I even bother asking for them because something gets switched off in my brain and while I hear them clearly enough, I can't retain them. This came to a frustrating head last night when I wanted to meet the writer of Sex in the City who was reading from her new book at Barnes and Noble. I thought the instructions were easy - up 30th street to Park avenue until I see B&N. The long and short of it is that I didn't get it right and found myself on the opposite side of the city. With my evening plans ruined, I trudged the streets aimlessly searching for something as exciting as Carrie Bradshaw. After a quick shopping break at Old Navy (golf t-shirts on the sale rail were just $6), I found myself in a dodgy part of town where cars seemed to sleep at night in three-story contraptions. There was a bakery advertising itself as the Best Cheesecake in New York just behind Madison Square Gardens which caught my attention and for $2.50 it is probably the best cheese cake I've tasted too. It looked like a fridge cake but tasted like a baked one. Heading to the adjacent Penn Station  next door, the smell of pizza called. The Pizza Hut was empty at around 8pm but one just called Pizza was buzzing. The first mega slice I had ($2.80 per slice) was chicken and not especially tasty but as I still had lots of diet coke left I ordered another slice this time with pepperoni which I've not tried before. What I especially liked about the pizza was a soft crunch factor - kind of crisp shortbread. V good.

Ground Zero: St Paul's church is Manhattan's oldest public building and has provided refuge over hundreds of years. It witnessed the fall of the adjacent World Trade Centre four years ago and then, as it does now, provided a place for the city's tears. Bells throughout the city are tolling for the dead. Brothers and sisters read out the names of their siblings who perished while others - some like me just curious onlookers, walk the cavern's perimeter. Just the next-of-kin are allowed onto the site itself, so the rest of us pace the lengths or sit in the warm sun. The sky is perfectly clear today and while some have their heads back looking into the heavens, none has a smile on their face. People express themselves in different ways - one man has New York 9/11/01 Never Forget tattooed on his right arm, another wears a T-shirt - Never Forget Kevin Reilly  FDNY 9/11/01.

Less than a block away people are queuing for their bagels and coffee - a gorgeous woman in front of me orders the Everything Bagel with extra cheese and I order my first (and last) knish. As a culinary adventurer I regularly put my "eating anything at least once" motto into practice. The knish is mashed potato mixed with spinach and then covered in a light pastry batter.