One of my favorite questions people from home ask me is usually some form of the following: “How are the British people?..or your new British friends?...or your new British boyfriend?” And I always reply with some version of, “What British people (insert friends/boyfriend as needed)?!” Okay, so of course I have met British people in London, however probably a vast majority of people I have met are from every other corner of the planet and not from England. It may be because I work in a very global office- the other day at a pub table after work I glanced around me- Canada, um…Canada again (a lot of Canadians!), India, France, Netherlands, Finland…
If anything though, I have realized if you really look for it you will see how all people can be so similar in even the slightest expressions….
This morning I woke up at 9:30. Everyone was still dead asleep including about 4 people who had stayed in our living room from the building-wide Halloween party last night. Imagine my horror as I stumbled into the living room this morning to see a knight slain out upon the couch. He clearly had a joust with Smirnoff the previous night and hadn’t faired so well. Having no part in last night’s festivity the lingering traces of it in my flat lit in me a slight spark of disgust and I had to leave. I decided to head out to a new location to attempt working on my long over due MBA assignments.
I got on the ol’ Bakerloo line as normal, still unsure of were I would end up, and scanned the ipod for some inspiring melody. The car was filled with normal Londoners- families, people going to work on Sunday, and the other 1/3 of people just getting home from their crazy night before. (these were somewhat easier to identify since some had remnants of strange costumes and make-up) Two stops later a family of six got in the car. A couple with three kids and an older women- probably a grandma. Despite there being a lack of seats for all six, they all crammed onto 4 seats, which made me smile. I looked at what they were wearing- interesting scarves and parkas, I guessed they were from a countryside somewhere. They were speaking some dialect I couldn’t detect, so I honestly have no idea where they were from-it didn’t matter. The father has his arm stretched out in front of his son and he held firmly to the pole, even though he was seated and secure. He had a smile on his face of pure joy and at one point he kissed his son on the forehead. The son, who I would guess was about 7, quickly wiped it off and made a face of disbelief of the atrocity just bestowed upon him. I never want to forget the look on the fathers face and the tears of joy in his eyes as he watched the tube walls wiz by - you could just see how proud and excited he was to bring his family to visit the city of London. They got off at Baker Street and another family of 4 took their place. A more conservative German family with a 13 year old girl grasping a Beckham poster she had just bought. Sundays are special in London- travelers, families, people relaxing (well some, it still is a city)
So here I sit at the Victoria Station Starbucks- I came here because of the windows on the second floor that let me daydream and watch the bustling travelers below when I don’t want to focus on my paper. I’m drinking my new favorite concoction- A grande, sugar-free hazelnut, classic hot chocolate, with soy milk. What a wordy and complex beverage, i.e. a perfect reflection of me…I like to think its amazing ;-) Now if only I wasn’t splattering it all over my keyboard, ugh.
Sunday, 28 October 2007
Thursday, 25 October 2007
Belly of the Beast
Sometimes the most random questions enter my mind while walking around London. As I stood at Oxford Circus tube stop tonight I couldn’t help but wonder, how much money does this city spend on lighting the beautiful buildings every night? I’m not saying its not worth it- the antique crown molding and pillar silhouettes are indeed worth the penny, not to mention I thoroughly enjoy it when forced to take a night bus home after a long evening out (much more scenic), but I was just wondering? Any ideas?
I find it’s the little things in London I enjoy. One would be my walk to work, which is a series of small passageways and winding roads that is so random a GPS would probably lead a stranger into a wall. On a good rainy morning the smell of fresh bread pipes out of the bakeries-ah, its incredible. (Incredible how much of it is going to my waste line-yikes!) I also find myself admiring the brick building across from my office that has blue trim. How would I distract myself from endless Excel spread sheets without that building? Most importantly, the fact that my oatmeal packets say “Hot Stuff” always makes me smile- it’s as if the Quaker oatmeal man knows me... haha, only in England!
Jaime just walked into our flat, and exclaimed, “It’s so hot in here! I feel like I’m in the belly of a beast!” We just got our heat turned on this week and haven’t quite figured it out. I constantly fear the dining room chair is going to burst into flames any moment from being next to the central unit. I suppose I could move it- but where would be the fun story in that?! Luckily we haven’t had too many escapades in our flat.
We live in the basement of a traditional London flat building in the northwestern part of the city- it’s a nice residential area. The kind of place that puts fresh flowers on the lamp posts outside. Of course, they cram 60 of us in a building that would normally be occupied by 30 people- but hey, at least we still get the flowers! :) Some of the other flats have not been as fortunate as us and have had some fatalities. It’s not pure schadenfreude…sometimes its revolutionary. Prime example was the neighbor who some how lit her toast on fire one morning. The smoke was bellowing out and we couldn’t get the alarm off. The next week we all had new toasters, with timers. I just had a toasted bagel tonight, and thanks to her misfortune, my bagel not only fit in the slots but was toasted to absolute perfection. With sorrow comes progress my friends- and it tasted good!
Not much to report tonight, I’m just having a relaxing evening. Come to think of it, overall it has been a relaxing day. There have been several stories of course, but I will fill you in on a later day. Yup, I’m signing off- you all take care!
I find it’s the little things in London I enjoy. One would be my walk to work, which is a series of small passageways and winding roads that is so random a GPS would probably lead a stranger into a wall. On a good rainy morning the smell of fresh bread pipes out of the bakeries-ah, its incredible. (Incredible how much of it is going to my waste line-yikes!) I also find myself admiring the brick building across from my office that has blue trim. How would I distract myself from endless Excel spread sheets without that building? Most importantly, the fact that my oatmeal packets say “Hot Stuff” always makes me smile- it’s as if the Quaker oatmeal man knows me... haha, only in England!
Jaime just walked into our flat, and exclaimed, “It’s so hot in here! I feel like I’m in the belly of a beast!” We just got our heat turned on this week and haven’t quite figured it out. I constantly fear the dining room chair is going to burst into flames any moment from being next to the central unit. I suppose I could move it- but where would be the fun story in that?! Luckily we haven’t had too many escapades in our flat.
We live in the basement of a traditional London flat building in the northwestern part of the city- it’s a nice residential area. The kind of place that puts fresh flowers on the lamp posts outside. Of course, they cram 60 of us in a building that would normally be occupied by 30 people- but hey, at least we still get the flowers! :) Some of the other flats have not been as fortunate as us and have had some fatalities. It’s not pure schadenfreude…sometimes its revolutionary. Prime example was the neighbor who some how lit her toast on fire one morning. The smoke was bellowing out and we couldn’t get the alarm off. The next week we all had new toasters, with timers. I just had a toasted bagel tonight, and thanks to her misfortune, my bagel not only fit in the slots but was toasted to absolute perfection. With sorrow comes progress my friends- and it tasted good!
Not much to report tonight, I’m just having a relaxing evening. Come to think of it, overall it has been a relaxing day. There have been several stories of course, but I will fill you in on a later day. Yup, I’m signing off- you all take care!
Monday, 22 October 2007
"Con Amor, Con Vida, Con Alma"
Life is awesome.
I realize this is a very cliche way to begin any blog, but tonight there is just no other way to express how I feel. Dearest friends, tonight I found myself at Prince Albert Hall in London at the Gypsy Kings concert and I kid you not, it was the best concert I have ever been to. The type of concert that everyone young and old stands up and dances and all your five senses are operating in full-swing as you take it all in.
I was thinking about how I came across the Gypsy Kings to begin with and I couldn't remember how I actually became a fan. I think I was listening to the Kings once in Cali's car about five years ago and vaguely remember going to the local Borders in the states to undoubtedly spend too much on their Best Of album. They have never been my favorite band but I find certain times in life when they are a necessity and those times are the foundations of great memories. I remember the summer of 04' when I spent a week alone on the beach in Andalucia. I listened to their album while soaking in the Spanish sun sea side. I remember traveling on some crazy bus trip driving down Calle Cruzcampo in Sevilla listening to the Gypsy guitar. And there I was- in this phenomenal structure, right out of a Victorian movie, listening to beautiful music and dancing with my closest 1,000 friends.
I look over my right shoulder and there was the most conservative 60+ couple just dancing away...on my left is the concert obligatory girl with the slim jeans waving her hands and shaking her hips, the Spanish guy on my right singing at the top of his lungs and clapping off beat most the time. The lead singer gets on and says, "Este es para Usted- con amor, con vida, con alma" (This is for you- with love, with life, with soul).
This is my life- Let the journey continue...
I realize this is a very cliche way to begin any blog, but tonight there is just no other way to express how I feel. Dearest friends, tonight I found myself at Prince Albert Hall in London at the Gypsy Kings concert and I kid you not, it was the best concert I have ever been to. The type of concert that everyone young and old stands up and dances and all your five senses are operating in full-swing as you take it all in.
I was thinking about how I came across the Gypsy Kings to begin with and I couldn't remember how I actually became a fan. I think I was listening to the Kings once in Cali's car about five years ago and vaguely remember going to the local Borders in the states to undoubtedly spend too much on their Best Of album. They have never been my favorite band but I find certain times in life when they are a necessity and those times are the foundations of great memories. I remember the summer of 04' when I spent a week alone on the beach in Andalucia. I listened to their album while soaking in the Spanish sun sea side. I remember traveling on some crazy bus trip driving down Calle Cruzcampo in Sevilla listening to the Gypsy guitar. And there I was- in this phenomenal structure, right out of a Victorian movie, listening to beautiful music and dancing with my closest 1,000 friends.
I look over my right shoulder and there was the most conservative 60+ couple just dancing away...on my left is the concert obligatory girl with the slim jeans waving her hands and shaking her hips, the Spanish guy on my right singing at the top of his lungs and clapping off beat most the time. The lead singer gets on and says, "Este es para Usted- con amor, con vida, con alma" (This is for you- with love, with life, with soul).
This is my life- Let the journey continue...
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