A four meter high Christmas tree in the kitchen

Where do I start? Last night! Unexpectedly, I was invited to a private house party. Emilio, whom I had just met the day before, offered to take the guest from Germany with him. Free admission, drinks included. Okay! Skeptical and curious at the same time, we drove to Soho around 1:00 am. Hey, it was Friday night.

There were discussions with the doorman while I distantly watched the incoming guests. College kids, early 20s, dolled-up young ladies, young guys trying to keep up with the women in their own way, some with success, some quite awkwardly.

We gained entry thanks to personal advocacy from the host, a laid-back guy wearing a Christmas hat who incessantly emphasized that it was his apartment. An understatement. It was actually a loft, with central rooms spanning two floors and accommodating about 200 people, as well as a four meter high Christmas tree.

In the midst of numerous rich kids, I felt out of place and held onto my free drinks. At least I wasn't the oldest one there, Thomas Hayo, co-judge of Heidi Klum, was lurking next to me, looking a bit lost on the dance floor. This teenage party wasn't boring.

By three o'clock, the host called it quits, thanked the guests (!) and asked everyone to leave. A surreal display of obscene wealth. I grabbed four more beers for the road and drove back to Brooklyn.

Brooklyn is the fourth major borough in the southeast, next to Manhattan Island in the west, the Bronx in the north, and Queens in the northeast. Here, New York City still looks like it does in the movies. A diverse community, graffiti, the elevated train rattling above our heads, a symphony of rust, asphalt, and concrete. I immediately felt at home in my new neighborhood.