Excuse me, sir, can I hide under your sombrero for a while?

Last night my friend P. celebrated her birthday at Mestizo near Warren Street. All her friends seem to love this place, they were all raving on about how it’s Authentic Mexican. Mind you, they were all mostly American, so I don’t know how they know. Judging by the music they played (Arabic belly dance stuff, then Backstreet Boys?), I’m not so sure.

The place has the looooongest tequila menu, but I stayed well clear. As far as I’m concerned, drinking tequila shots is a bit like walking into a random bar and picking up a random guy for a one-night stand. In a moment of drunken spontaneity, it might seem like a fun idea. But it won’t feel so good while you’re doing it, you’ll spend the next day puking and telling yourself “never again”.

The taco trays at Mestizo looked really good, though! I ordered a mole poblano and I wasn’t overly impressed with it. Oh well. Maybe I was just in a weird mood. My back was hurting from sitting at the computer too much and then some idiot at the party asked me if I was pregnant. WTF? Because I have a bad back??? I reassured him I wasn’t, then briefly contemplated hiding my sorry face under a sombrero and quietly knocking myself unconscious with many tequilas. Instead I took a deep breath in, a deep breath out and went home.

Still, it just occurred to me a sombrero could shelter you from so many things: sun, rain, embarrassment, people-phobia. You could even hide things in your sombrero. Like bottles of tequila, or tissues if you have a cold, or things you want to smuggle. Not that Mexicans are smugglers or anything, no.

Return of the mid-week London photo #25

Last year, I used to do a series called Mid-week London Photo. It lasted 24 weeks and ended for no particular reason. Maybe I just haven’t been taking enough photos. Maybe I should start again.

Last night I went out for a drink with the girls in Putney. It was Tuesday, so we didn’t exactly last “all night long”, but then I guess that depends on your definition of night. When does night end? Midnight? Surely that’s only the middle of it? So it was a night half full. A fun night and a happy night. My friend A. has a new boyfriend and she was soooo happy, like a teenager and like someone who just fell love for the first time, although she’s neither of those things. I felt happy for her. It makes me happy to see people being happy. And nothing makes people happier than LOVE LOVE LOVE. We’re so crazy about love, we humans.
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Among other news, I found out that my musical muse, Jason Mraz, split up with his fiancé, musician Tristan Prettyman. She says he wasn’t ready. This is bad because:
a) It makes him a bastard, and I really don’t want him to be one of those bastards. I want him to be a good guy.
b) It confirms there is no Happily Ever After in life. Just when you think you’re in the Happily Ever After phase, something always fucks up.
But it’s good because:
a) Nothing gives people inspiration to write great music like a broken heart. Can’t wait to hear Jason’s next album. And Tristan’s too!
b) The most eligible man in the world (in my world) is now available.

Btw. did you know Jason Mraz has Czech roots? His grandfather moved to the US in 1915. Mráz is a common Czech surname; it means “frost”. I wonder if Jason knows any Czech words.

(Rain.) The Social. (Walk. Talk.) Camden Eye. Why couldn’t a title start with a bracket, she thought.

Yesterday I went out in Soho and Camden with my buddies from College. Here are some photos. I won’t write much, because I’m in that state of mind where I don’t have the right words, or any words. I can’t even read words. I can’t seem to be able to pay attention to any book I pick up; the only thing I’ve been able to read recently was “The Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers”, which is deliberately written in such terrible English that I could read it cover-to-cover in just three before-bedtime reading sessions. Let’s hope my mental capabilities return soon, so I can enjoy other people’s beautiful words again and hopefully also write them.

It rained while I waited for the Tube. The whole day was a series of rain-sun-rain episodes.

We started off at “The Social” in Little Portland Street. It was way too early in the day and there was nobody there but, my God, it’s such a cool bar. I can’t quite describe it, so I really should have taken photos, but it was so quiet I didn’t want to take my camera out, because it would have turned the atmosphere from "Just Me and You and This Cool Record Collection” to “Overrun and Raped by Tourists”. They have an exhibition of black-and-white street photography by Garson Byer going on right now, which is called “In a Lonely Place”. (How fitting that the place was empty and silent.) They played jazzy, bluesy music in the background and I sipped from my bottle of Sol while playing with the paper coasters. Discovery of the evening: the waiter at the Social is super cute, and I think I overheard him speaking Czech. I may need to come back to investigate further.

And then we walked around Soho.

I experimented with taking blurry photos. Life isn’t always in sharp focus, so why portrait it that way?

Michael Jackson is not dead.

The Camden Eye is a pub just next to Camden Town Tube station. Their “Kissing Room” upstairs is a great place to sit with your friends and chat for hours and hours … while the downstairs is crowded and loud and people are coming and going almost like it’s an extension of the Tube station.

Well, wouldn’t that be wonderful. None of the complications of romance and mind games and jealousy and … never mind.

Lies to tell tourists

“If you put an Oyster card against your ear, you can hear the sea.”

TimeOut just did this funny feature where Londoners tweeted their favourite lies to tell tourists. Among my favourites:

• Don’t worry, everyone in London speaks English.
• Take the steps rather than the lift at Covent Garden Underground station - there aren't many and it's much quicker. (Note: You won’t see the fun in this joke unless you have actually done this by foolish accident, like me. The notices in the station warn you not to use the stairs unless it’s an emergency because there are 193 steps. 193? I thought that didn’t sound like much. I'm a fit young person after all. It’s actually the equivalent of climbing to the top of a 15-storey building.  Don’t do it.)
• The Queen does all announcements on the underground.

Chinese Opera @ Southbank

I love receiving colourful things in the post. (And I don’t mean bank statements that tell me I’m in the red.) So I was excited to find this flyer for Chinese opera at the Southbank Centre. I’m a massive fan of Anchee Min’s books (Empress Orchid, Becoming Madame Mao), and her characters always seem to have a fondness of Chinese opera, so I’m curious.

I’ll be going with my “baby” sister who is visiting me for a couple of weeks this summer. My sister was 7 years old when I moved to England, and although we see each other during holidays, we’ve sadly missed out on the whole growing-up-together experience. And I looooove being her big sister, although she’s turned into a teenager now with all the mood swings and longing from freedom. So sometimes I act a bit like an overprotective parent around her. It’s going to be great to spend some Quality Time with her & I’m looking forward to it immensely.

London Combinations & Permutations

I have made a little video out of the photos I took in London over the past 3 years or so. Many (if not most) of the photos have appeared on this blog before, so if you are new here, this is your chance to catch up! I hope the video shows the diversity of London and what the city is like beyond those well-known tourist landmarks.

Music: Future by Simon Lynge

Hammersmith Bridge

Yesterday, my friend C. was celebrating her birthday, so we met up at Hammersmith Bridge for a few drinks and chocolate fudge cake. Hammersmith Bridge is one of my favourite locations for a summer evening drink … I don’t get to go there often, but when I do, the views are so worth it!

The pubs can get pretty crowded. Yesterday we ended up at the Rutland Arms and they were so busy that they served everything in plastic cups, even wine – yuck! The waitress accidentally gave me a pair of dirty (I swear!) plastic cups with the sparkling wine I bought to celebrate C.’s birthday. “Excuse me, are these clean?” I asked. The waitress replied, “Yes. What do you think?!” before snapping the cups away from my hand and giving me the “one more word and I will kill you” look. She also gave me a different wine than what I ordered, but I figured it was best shut up. I wasn’t going to win this cat fight.

So we drank the sweet bubbles from plastic and had a beautiful evening.

I was wearing these super-high heels which I bought a couple of days ago during a shopping spree with two friends. (My friend M. calls them “0.0001 km/h shoes”. Needles to say, he’s a guy who ranks utility a lot higher than beauty.) Normally, I wouldn’t even try on anything other than Sensible Shoes, but I was peer-pressured into trying out a more sexy look. (What’s not sexy about Converse???) Aren’t they cute, though? I like all the turquoise detailing. Yesterday, I certainly attracted attention, mostly because the shoes make me taller than everybody, including most men. Sexy? I felt a bit like a transvestite so tall.

*Always look on the bright siiiide of life.* (Come on, sing with me!)

Do I have blisters on my feet now? Of course I have blisters on my feet.

Enjoy your weekend!