Two new additions

This morning Leo and I set out with two goals - buy a desk and find something to hang on our wall. I'm pleased to report that we succeeded on both fronts. Since we had to leave our amazing 7 foot wooden sculpture (what we like to refer to as our Louis Nevelson) behind in the care of Leo's parents, we thought that we needed a new art piece which would elicit confusion and bewilderment in guests to our flat. So, we felt a World War II gas mask would do the trick. We also found a simple oak table to serve as our desk, which fits perfectly in our living room. And Leo bargained for both, making this a happy and economical day.

Not so Bright-on

This Easter weekend (an unexpected 4 day weekend for us) Leo and I hopped a train to Brighton. We had a friend's flat to stay in and the idea of heading to the beach appealed to us both, even though the forecast called for snow. The train ride was only about 50 minutes, making Brighton a very easy and reasonable weekend get away. When we emerged from the train station, although the sky looked a bit ominous, we decided to walk along the water to the flat, since it wasn't yet raining. But as we started our hike, the rain began, which we are so used to at this point that it almost doesn't affect us any more. The beach front was reminiscent of Coney Island, with it's rundown charm...but not nearly as rundown. The beach was covered in smooth pebbles rather than sand. There were numerous people walking along the water, which was surprising due to the weather, but it made us feel a bit better (we weren't the only crazy tourists in Brighton for the holiday). We passed Brighton Pier, which even in the rain had the amusement rides running and tourists queued for candy apples and freshly fried doughnuts.

We finally located the flat, which was so up our alley. It was on the top floor of a row house, a block from the water (which you could see from the balcony), with beautiful wood floors, big windows, calming wall colours...if we had found that flat in London, we would have taken it immediately...but it being on the water made it even better. We had some lunch, bid a fond farewell to our gernerous friends, and started on a tour of Brighton, with the weather seemingly on our side. Not two blocks from the flat, the hail began to come down. Luckily, we were across the street from a pub, The Barley Mow, and decided this was the perfect time for a pint. As we were drinking and warming ourselves by the fireplace, the hail stopped, the sun came out, then sky clouded over, and the hail began again - a cycle which seemed to last throughout most of the day. The next time the sun reappeared, we headed out to get in as much sightseeing as we could before the next cycle of hail and sleet. We wandered around the Royal Pavilion, Brighton Pier (where we got some doughnuts and did a bit of gambling), through the Lanes, and ended up at a wonderful restaurant for dinner, Bill's. Bill's had been recommended to us twice, so it seemed we couldn't pass it up. The food was so fresh and tasty, and the atmosphere was really comfortable and inviting...absolutely no pretense and really affordable. Due to the inclement weather (it was snowing at this point) we both opted for some hot pasta dishes and full glasses of red wine.

The next day, we wandered around the tour around his town, Shoreham-by-Sea. The place felt like a sleepy fishing village (but it was the Sunday of Easter weekend, so I'm not sure how accurate a description that really is). After seeing his beautiful apartment right next to the river, we debated our city-loving lifestyle as we took the train back to Brighton. Would life be better at a slower pace? Would our emotions be controlled by the tides? Would the North Laines, which had some great antique/junk stores. We then took a train 15 minutes west along the coast to meet a friend for a Sunday Roast and a commute be too much? We decided that for now, we really can't see ourselves giving up city life. Back in Brighton, we wandered along the beach in the cold, took a ton of pictures of the collapsed West Pier, had some really fresh sushi for dinner and headed back to our home away from home.The next morning, we awoke to a bright sun (in Bright-on), so we headed out early to explore the marina and the chalk cliffs to the east of the city. Of course, by the time we headed back to the flat to clean the place up and do some laundry... like good, little house guests... it had started to rain again. The rain followed us up to the North Laines for lunch (juicy burgers), then back to the train station, and as we headed home on the train to London the rain turned to snow, and again to sun, then back to hail by the time we got home. Even though the weather was less than pleasant, we had a wonderful time and many thanks to Claire, William, and Andy!

House guest #1 - The Return

Our friend Jared travels a lot. In New York he would be gone for months - to this meeting, that premiere, some festival. Which comes in handy, since now we get to see him more than we thought we would. Jared came in Thursday morning and Leo took the day off to spend some time with him, taking in the sights (now that we have numerous vacation days, we can do things like that). I met up with the two of them after work (some of us have to earn a living) to get a pint and some Turkish food and we called it an early night due to Jared's jet-lag, Leo's sore muscles (he's actually been going to the gym), and my octogenarian tendencies.

Today, the plan is to get an English breakfast and then show Jared the way to the airport, so he can catch yet another plane to Amsterdam.

Too much of a good thing

Last night Leo and I finally used the gift voucher that my parents gave us for our anniversary and had an amazing meal at J. Sheekey. The restaurant caters to the theatre crowd, so the tables have a time limit on them of 1 hour and 45 minutes, to get people in, out, and onto their shows in a timely manner. I had to explain this to Leo, who found it odd that the waiter kept informing us how long it may take to prepare and eat particular dishes. We decided to go all out and order the Fruit de Mer for two with the lobster (estimated eating time - 1 hour), as well as a starter of skate cheeks cooked with bacon and mushrooms, and a bottle of Rioja blanca.

The skate cheeks were amazingly tender and so rich. But the Fruit de Mer took center stage, with all eyes on it as our waiter brought it to our table. We knew we'd be in for a feast when we were first presented with our utensils - they came in all shapes and sizes, all having a mildly surgical look to them. The platter was two tiers of shellfish -
whelks, winkles, clams, langoustines, prawns, oysters, crab, and lobster. We were overwhelmed, but dove in. About an hour later we were happily defeated and properly bloated. For dessert Leo had a glass of Armagnac from 1966, I had a glass of Sauternes, and we split a very gelatinous, yet creamy panna cotta. It was a wonderful meal, but I think it will be a while before we can eat shellfish again. Thanks Mom & Dad!

Mirror world

In William Gibson's book Pattern Recognition, the main character travels a lot between New York and London and always thinks of London as a mirror world to New York. Basically everything appears to be the same, but it's really backwards. It seemed like an interesting concept when I was reading the book, but Friday night I truly felt the meaning of 'mirror world'.

Leo and I went to a pub near his office to have drinks with his coworkers; something we did a lot of in New York. The first difference was everyone was standing outside of the pub. In New York it seems that if you can find a seat, you take one. Here people seem to prefer to stand and drink and mingle. Leo's new coworkers fit the same roles as his old ones - the boss, the flash guy, the loud, crazy guy, etc. and that's how I remember them, since I am terrible with names. After people were significantly pissed (as in intoxicated, not angry), we walked across the street to a karaoke bar where another coworker was having a birthday party. I can't tell you how many nights in New York began at a bar and ended at 3 in the morning in the East Village at Sing Sing Karaoke. But here is where more differences came into play.

1) I think we went to the karaoke bar at around 9:30 p.m., which typically would have been much later in New York, but here with drinking laws how they are you have to get your drinking and partying in before most places shut down at midnight
2) The karaoke bar was more like a dance club - there were no private booths nor any stage for the singer. Here the main focus seemed to be dancing to terrible late 80s and 90s music...like "She's Like the Wind" by Patrick Swayze
3) The original vocals were left on the song tracks, so even if the person singing was completely out of tune, you'd never really know
4) There were some 'tough' looking guys at the bar drinking wine directly from the bottles
5) These 'tough' looking guys led everyone in a drunken version of an Oasis song, and everyone loved it. I don't think I've heard Oasis since 1997 let alone heard it sung at karaoke before
6) There was broken glass on the floor everywhere, and no one seemed to mind
7) In mirror world, Leo danced!

It was just so odd to do something which was so familiar and it turned out to be so different. But different is not bad, just something I'll have to get used to (or take frequent trips back to New York to get my karaoke fix).

The rules of the road

An ongoing problem of mine is with how people walk in London. I have yet to figure out if there is a correct side to walk on. I assumed that people must walk on the left here, since people drive on the left. My friend from New Zealand confirmed that that's how it works where she's from. Plus, when riding escalators you typically are on the left of the people going in the opposite direction. And on an escalator, you are suppose to stand on the right and walk on the left. But when actually walking down the street, people do not seem to follow any rules.

Each morning on my way to the tube I walk down a long arcade, packed with people swiftly heading in the opposite direction from me. Each morning I take a different path. One day to the right, next day to the left, next day in the middle, then maybe the zig-zag. Each day I meet with near head-on collisions, awkward dancing when both parties try to get out of each other's way, and a lot of angry scowls. What seems to work the best is what I call "The Leo Method" - walking down the center, chest puffed out, body rigid, with a bitter look on your face. There appears to be no rhyme or reason to the way Londoners walk, just that they will always try to walk exactly where there is a person walking in the opposite direction.

Sunday markets

Leo had to work on a pitch all weekend, so I finally had the opportunity to wander aimlessly around the markets in our neighbourhood (Leo's not too fond of junk and crowds). I started on Sunday with the flower market on Columbia Road. Our apartment is very bare, so I thought a plant might liven things up. The flower market was a lovely sight on a cloudy gray morning. There were flowers of every size, shape, and colour. And crowds of people clamouring to get the best flowers. That day there was even a violinist serenading the event.
I stopped by one of the stalls with the larger plants, and asked the woman which plant would be the most difficult for me to kill. I have a very (very!) bad track record with plants. In Chicago, I had a jade plant that was on the verge of death until I gave it to my cousin when I was moving to New York. For some reason, once it was out of my hands, it thrived. I came to visit my cousin a year later, and was shocked that the enormous, beautiful jade plant in her living room was the same pathetic one I used to own. In New York, I had an aloe plant which killed itself by jumping out of it's pot and ripping out it's roots...no joke! At the flower market, the woman in the stall pointed me in the direction of a dracaena and promised me that if I didn't over water it, there was little else that I could do to kill it. I think it's the same plant that Leo had in his dorm room in college, and if something could survive that foul place, I think it's likely to survive me.After lugging the plant home, I met up with Caron, and we explored the Spitalfields Market, the Brick Lane Market, and finally we wandered down Cheshire Street to another market which unfortunately was already shutting down. We were amazed by the array of junk, wonderfully smelling food, and fashionable clothes and accessories. All we ended up buying was a baguette sandwich, but it was still a very productive day.

A bit of culture

One of the perks of my job is that I get a lot of discounted tickets to exhibitions and shows. Last night, we took advantage of one of these deals and ended up at the Royal Festival Hall to see the London Philharmonic Orchestra. The orchestra performed Ravel's Piano Concerto for the left hand followed by Shostakovich's Seventh Symphony. The seats we got were 15 rows from the stage...not bad since they were super cheap! If not for the annoying child smacking his lips while eating sticky toffee pudding and his overindulgent mother seated behind us, it would have been a wonderful night out.

Observation

People here and in mainland Europe are always on holiday...and when they're not on holiday, they're planning their next holiday. Not that I'm complaining. When I started my job I was shocked at how much time off I was given. I would have to work at least 10 years with the same company in the US to get this much vacation time. I'm not even sure how I'll be able to use it all. Guess I need to start planning.

Paris in a day (and a half)

John had never been to Paris. So since we now live so close, we thought we'd just take a weekend trip to show him the sights. We got up at 4:45 a.m. to catch a very early morning train. Luckily we had not been out too late the night before, which made it easier to rise well before the sun. The train ride was uneventful, aside from the bourgeois middle age couple across from Leo and me, who took up too much leg room. When we arrived in Paris, we all marvelled at how much brighter the colours were, and how much better the smells were, and Leo and John kept noticing how much more attractive the women were. Once we queued for money and metro tickets, we started another one of Leo's death marches (aided by my expert navigational skills).

We began the day with a croissant in the 20th arrondissement, and a tour of the cemetery at Père Lachaise. We then took a stroll through the Marais having lunch at Le Bouledogue near the Pompidou (a brassiere we had been recommended the first time we went to Paris, but never had a chance to go to). After lunch we headed up the St. Denis (one of the red-light districts) to our hotel in the 9th arrondissement to drop off our stuff. With the day fading quickly, we headed south to Notre Dame, we found Hemingway's home with his first wife in the Latin Quarter, walked by the Pantheon, and stopped for a drink at a cafe near the Jardin du Luxembourg. We walked past the Church of San Sulpice, walked to the Odeon for a crepe, and headed back North, through the Ile de la Cite, past the Bastille to the restaurant Bofinger, where we would have eaten a lot more choucroute garnie, but were too exhausted.

On Sunday, since we had to get on a 2:45 p.m. train back to London, we awoke early and headed up to Sacré-Coeur in Montmartre. We then hopped the train to see the Arc de Triomphe walking briefly down the Champse-Elysee, as Leo and John envisioned German troops invading the city. We headed south again so we could get to the Eiffel Tower, which John didn't believe was that big until he saw it up close. We had a glass of wine at a cafe near by, headed back toward the Seine, picking up baguette sandwiches before getting onto the metro to head back to the train station.

In a day and a half, we managed to fit in a week's worth of sight seeing. My legs are still exhausted and last night I slept so soundly that not even our house guest's snoring could wake me up.