Lucie's London

Winter

2012-02-06T23:08:00.001Z

I put the heating on
For the first time this year
I guess that means winter is really near
And in this weather
I need you more than ever
To borrow your sweater
And be warm together
’Coz even though we said
That it would be good for us
To be alone
’Coz we’re too co-dependent
Let’s face it
Who wants to be free
When it’s freezing
(Lail Arad)

>> frozen gardens at Chiswick House <<

>> Valentine’s Day is coming … the florists on Chiswick High Road always have awesome window displays; Mary Portas would be proud. <<

Lail Arad - Winter

Chinese New Year

2012-02-05T11:10:00.001Z

I go to Chinese New Year every year. I was feeling pretty lazy last Sunday but I really wanted to continue the tradition. It’s always a great photo opportunity with the dancers and the costumes. It was pretty chilly, but nothing that a hot chocolate and some fried rice take-out couldn’t fix.

The singer in the photo above is Mary-Jess Leaverland, who was a winner on a Chinese version of X Factor. I really loved her story. Mary-Jess was studying music and Chinese and Sheffield University when she went to Nanjing for her year abroad. While there, she entered the TV singing competition and won. It’s not that common for English people to speak another language, so I’m always amazed when I see someone who has made a real effort to go out of their comfort zone like this. Her singing is quite an unusual mix of Chinese pop melodies with English and Chinese lyrics. Plus, she is this really sweet and humble kid who’s had her dream of becoming a recording artist come true and she speaks in this incredibly grateful way, like she can’t believe her luck. No arrogance, no celebrity. It’s really refreshing.

Fasten your seatbelts, we are going to East. London.

2012-01-21T19:42:00.001Z

You might have noticed that I’m not a massive fan of postcodes beginning with E. There are several reasons for this: I live in west London, so east is far away, inconvenient and diametrically opposite to what I’m used to – landscape-wise, people-wise and every otherwise. But in a way, it’s a shame I don’t visit more often … it could be nice to get away from my neighbourhood full of Ralph Loren strollers and the stuck-up mums who push them; it would be nice to get to know some cockneys.

Last Saturday, my friends from the yacht club invited me to come along to the Boat Show at ExCeL, so I got up bright and early (despite going to bed at 3 am the night before, ooopsie); I jumped on the Docklands Light Railway and headed east. It was a beautiful sunny day with that crisp winter air that we don’t get too often in choky, smoky London. Here are some photos I took from the train window …

East is not so bad, who would have thought?

Pepa: my pet fish, my dinner.

2011-12-28T17:21:00.001Z

The Czechs don’t eat turkey for Christmas, no no no. It’s much more interesting than that. Every year, we buy a carp from these vendors on the street. The vendors will happily kill and gut the fish for you, but in families with small children, the carp is usually taken home live and allowed to swim in the bath for a few days. I have fond memories of playing with the Christmas-dinner carp when I was little. My mum told me there have been occasions when the carp accidentally died of “natural causes” before the dinner, but as kids we never noticed. I guess my parents managed to quickly rustle up a new one from somewhere? Or maybe we just ate the dead one? Who knows.

Many people give a name to their carp – “Pepa” is a popular one. Often, people form such a strong emotional bond with their carp that they are then unable to bring themselves to kill it and eat it. Every year, Czech TV stations urge people not to release their carps back into the river because the temperature shock caused by going from a warm bath at home to a cold December river usually kills the carp anyway.

Our carp is usually fried in batter and eaten with potato salad. Choking on a carp bone is a common accident on Christmas Eve in the Czech Republic.

What the British say, what the British mean, what others understand.

2011-12-25T13:31:00.001Z

My friend P. showed me this wonderful little “translation guide” which perfectly illustrates how the English love to beat around the bush. Cut it out and keep it in your pocket.

A bittersweet goodbye, Czech-style.

2011-12-24T21:40:00.001Z

How does a Czech patriot honour the memory of their former president who recently passed away? According to my friends, the right thing to do is to drink black beer. And so I obliged, ordering a pint of black Kozel after a very cultural evening spent at the State Opera in Prague on Wednesday. If there is one thing I love about my fellow Czechs, it has to be the dark sense of humour.

From Wednesday to Friday this week, the Czech Republic declared three days of official state mourning after the death of Václav Havel, who had been the first president of democratic Czechoslovakia and, later, the Czech Republic. Havel was one of the few politicians who had actually earned genuine respect from people. He had been a playwright and had a certain way with the words, being able to express the nation’s mood and to inspire us to be better people, year upon year. During the Communist days, Havel had spent many years in prison for repeatedly speaking up against the regime; this was a man who was not afraid to make immense personal sacrifices for the freedom of his country, a man who stood up for what he believed in: “Truth and love will win over lies and hatred.” To me, personally, he represents this kind of hope that’s almost extinct in our society today, this hope that you don’t need to screw someone else in order to get ahead.

>>We thank you, Václav. <<

So on Thursday, me and my friends continued mourning, this time at Café Slavia, where Havel used to be a regular guest. The café is located right next to the National Theatre, and is a famous hangout for actors and anyone connected with the arts. The café was full of TV crews recording interviews with anyone and everyone who remembered Havel coming there, including the lady who works in the cloakroom. We ordered a Czech dessert called “rakvičky” -- I think it was translated on the menu as sweet caskets, but it literally means little coffins. It’s basically coffin-shaped meringue served with whipped cream. We stuffed our faces, we mourned, and we laughed. It all felt so appropriately Czech.

>> “Hope is not the belief that something will turn out well; hope is about believing that something is worth the effort regardless of how it will turn out.” A poster remembering Havel in the centre of Prague. <<

>> In Wenceslas Square, hundreds of people came to a light a candle for Václav Havel by the statue of St. Václav, the patron saint of Bohemia. It was all quite poignant, really, and I never use words like poignant. <<

Make Love Not Porn

2011-12-04T22:22:00.000Z

I came across Cindy Gallop in a Czech newspaper today and I just had to share her funny and daring TED talk. Cindy is an older woman who dates younger men. Her mission on the Internet is to spread awareness of the extent to which hardcore pornography affects young men's perceptions and expectations of sex. While dating younger men, she has noticed that many of them seem to think that what you see in hardcore porn is the way you have sex. How very true. Haven't we all come across a guy who expects real women to act like porn stars? Cindy has taken it upon herself to start a discussion about what is real and what is healthy when it comes to sex. I think she's a legend!

http://makelovenotporn.com

Chilling like ice cream filling … or how about ice skating.

2011-11-15T21:05:00.001Z

On Saturday, I met up with my friend S. for ice skating in front of the Natural History Museum. The temperature outside is a bit too high right now, so there was quite a lot of water on the ice -- falling down on your bum could have seriously wet consequences. But S. and I did so well! Neither of us fell, despite the fact that we had each drunk a pint of cider before.

Of course, ice skating isn’t enough to keep two grown-up girls satisfied on a Saturday night, so we revisited the bars from our College days: first Eastside, then Metric when Eastside closed at 11pm. Both places are perfectly open to gate crashers, but unless you studied at Imperial College / Royal College of Music / Royal College of Art, then you probably don’t know about them. Eastside is quite a grown-up bar, but very cheap for South Kensington, plus it never gets too crowded. Good place to get drinks and food if you’re bored after visiting all those museums around South Kensington.

Metric is Imperial’s nightclub in the student union. The name is a bit of a world play. For the less serious students, the union shop sells coffee mugs which say: “Imperial? I’d rather be in Metric!” They were having some kind of a music night on Saturday, which, as far as I’m concerned, is just a great chance to chat up many, many boys. Who doesn’t love an opening line like: “Are you with the band?” Hoooo hey, I was just drunk enough to have the confidence. And I was bored. And I’m young. And I’m single. And life needs to be enjoyed.

Land was created to provide a place for boats to visit.

2011-10-23T13:39:00.001+01:00

Yesterday, I ran away to the sea again. If this continues, I will have to rename this blog from “Lucie’s London” to “Lucie’s Many Attempts to Escape from London”. The weather was lovely; we sailed from Portsmouth to Cowes on the Isle of Wight and back. Our yacht club has some new members this year, and they are all a good bunch.

Among other news, last week I was offered a job in the south of France and now I’m standing in front of a big dilemma: to move or not to move. I’ve written down the list of pro’s (good weather, beaches, mountains, good food, cheaper rent) and the list of con’s (lack of city life, the hassle of moving all my stuff to France, plus I don’t speak French …), but it hasn’t brought me any closer to a decision. I wish I could split myself into two halves: half of me would stay in London, half of me would move to France.

The old, well-known quote by Mark Twain comes to mind: “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

Maybe I should go???

It’s okay if you don’t wanna play.

2011-10-15T14:14:00.001+01:00

We Were Evergreen–Penguins & Moonboots

And it’s okay
if you don’t wanna play,
I can wait
for another day …

No, actually, I can’t. It’s Saturday and I wanna play today!!!

How not to be a domestic goddess, plus a little bit of music.

2011-10-10T11:54:00.001+01:00

My friend S. has moved to a new apartment and yesterday she invited us over for housewarming. It’s London, everything is crammed, so I was warned at the entrance in a sarcastic voice: “The place is huuuuge, careful so you don’t get lost!” Afterwards, S. proceeded to give me a tour of her kitchen.

Kitchen cupboard 1: Shoes

Kitchen cupboard 2: Bags and Sweaters

Kitchen cupboard 3: More shoes, plus rubbish bin

Kitchen cupboard 4: Equipment for drink making

“Where do you keep your saucepans?” I asked her.
“I don’t have any,” she replied.
“No even one? No frying pan, no pots?”
“I don’t cook.”
“But you lived in your old place for a year! How did you cook there?”
“I had a microwave.”
“You can’t eat microwaved stuff for a year!”
Apparently you can. This young lady’s apartment is like showing a giant middle finger to Nigella Lawson. Did I ever mention how annoying I find Nigella Lawson? Something about her voice drives me nuts … she sounds so upper-class and patronizing.

The housewarming didn’t last long, I was rushing to catch Markéta Irglová and Iron and Wine playing at the Hackney Empire. Markéta Irglová is a Czech singer who became famous after winning an Oscar for the song Falling Slowly which she wrote together with Glen Hansard for the movie Once. I really love the songs that Glen and Markéta played together. They broke up, though, and now they each play separately.

Falling Slowly–Glen Hansard & Marketa Irlogva

I’m sorry to say, it was quite a disappointment seeing Markéta on her own. I wanted her to be goood and confident and entertaining and full of energy, but she barely made eye contact with the audience. Most of her performance was just pretty emotionless. One of the songs she played was called “Let Me Fall in Love”. She introduced by saying that the song isn’t necessarily about falling in love with a person; it’s about falling in love with life … and how when you’re in love, everything seems easier, you have more energy to do everything, and life just seems better. Well, that’s exactly what seemed to be missing from Markéta’s performance, that kind of energy and will to live. She was dressed like a grandma as well, hiding all that is pretty about her. I hope she falls in love soon, I really do.

>> a few rubbish phone photos of the very pretty Hackney Empire <<

Camber Sands

2011-10-08T22:20:00.001+01:00

As much as I love London, truth be told there are days when I’m bloody sick of this smelly pit. Today was one of those days. I woke up, drank a cup of hot chocolate and fought the urge to hide from myself and my currently rather unsatisfactory life under the duvet. Finally, I forced my reluctant ass out of the house, out of the city. Off to the beach, to remind myself that I live on an island, to remind myself that there is a sea out there, and a world beyond that sea ... a world that will happily have me, should I wish to sail away.

Camber Sands, oh Camber Sands, I love you. My favourite beach, sandy and golden and beautiful. Camber Sands goes on for miles and miles, so quiet and clean. Camber Sands, you restore my energies, you clean my lungs, you make me want to keep my eyes open.

I really should start spending more time outside.

>> Camber Sands is approximately 2.5 hours from London. You can take a train to Rye (from Charing Cross, changing at Ashford), followed by a short bus ride from Rye train station to Camber. It’s really not as complicated as it sounds and it’s totally worth it. <<

Kiss me?

2011-10-01T13:27:00.001+01:00

Q: “Can I kiss you?”
A: “WAIT.”

Seeing things like this really makes my day. When you’re running around the city, it’s nice to be reminded there are people out there with a sense of humour.

>> Spotted near Turnham Green <<

Mid-week London Photo #29

2011-09-28T18:23:00.001+01:00

It was raining upside down.

>> Photo taken by my sister B. at Southbank. <<

Kafka on the Shore

2011-09-26T22:17:00.001+01:00

Every sentence should end with a punctuation mark. Likewise, it is my belief that every significant episode in life needs a mark to signal it’s ending, to break it apart from what’s coming next. For me, those punctuation marks are usually holidays. I’m an escapist, alright.

I’m back from a lovely break in the Canary Islands. It was a necessary way to separate the end of my master’s from the beginning of everything else. A punctuation mark to give me time to lower my voice, to process the meaning of that last sentence, to take a good dump – empty myself of all my old shit, to close my eyes, absorb sunshine into my soul and to imagine what could come next, to take a new breath and get ready to read the next sentence out loud and proud.

The sound of people around me chatting in Spanish has been comforting. I’ve never studied Spanish seriously, so I can’t understand it too well, which is all the better, because I didn’t have to worry about following other people’s conversations. I could simply concentrate on the melody without worrying about deciphering the lyrics. There’s just something about the sound of Spanish … to me it’s a language of wellbeing, of friendships, a language in which people take care of each other. Funny, how sounds can have such associations, no?

Take English, for example. To me, that’s a language of marketing and of beating around the bush, a language so infused with diplomacy, it’s possible to sell anything in English, to round off any unpleasant situation as actually not so bad, darling. Hindi is a language of endless quarrels (in public), of a billion people constantly grinding against each other’s nerves. In private, it’s probably a different story – I can’t think of a sound softer than a Hindi love song. German is a language of socially awkward 35-year-old men standing on higher moral ground, making caustic remarks and giggling at others with childish schadenfreude. French is a language of strongly-held beliefs, the biggest one of those being: everything is better in France. What makes this slight arrogance so endearing is that they are probably right.

Czech? Czech is a complicated language that makes me nervous.

“Mr. Hoshino?” Nakata said, breaking the silence.
“What is it?”
“The sea is a really nice thing, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is. Makes you feel calm.”
“Why is that?”
“Probably ’cause it’s so big, with nothing on it,” Hoshino said, pointing. “You wouldn’t feel so calm if there was a 7-Eleven over there, or a Seyiu department store, would you? Or a pachinko place over there, or a Yoshikawa pawnshop? But as far as the eye can see there’s nothing – which is pretty darn nice.”

(Kafka on the Shore)

Kensington Palace Orangery

2011-09-03T16:58:00.001+01:00

Today I was saying goodbye my old friend Z.,as she is moving to Barcelona for the next four years. (You bet I’ll come visit.) I wanted to take her somewhere nice for our goodbye, so we went to the Kensington Palace Orangery. It’s right next to Kensington Palace (in South Kensington) which is where Princess Diana used to live. If you want somewhere lovely to have a cup of tea and maybe some cake, this is a good place. It feels quite grand and European … it reminded of the Palmenhaus in Vienna a little bit. Also, if you want to do the whole “English high tea” experience with the little cakes and sandwiches served on a tiered stand, this is one place where you can do it with a reasonable budget.

Mid-week London Photo #28

2011-09-01T11:53:00.001+01:00

Leave me alone, I’m reading.

>> Photo taken at the book market under Waterloo Bridge. <<

Poetry fighting with rain and wind.

2011-08-30T12:26:00.001+01:00

There is this “poetry sculpture” at the Southbank Centre … and despite being exposed to rain and wind and pigeon poop, it’s been holding up quite well.

Meanwhile, I’m busy writing a different kind of poetry altogether, a sort of extended love poem to my examiners, called Master’s Thesis. It’s due in two weeks. Oh, but how I’d rather be blogging!

Mid-week London Photo #27

2011-08-24T22:36:00.001+01:00

“Liberty is about the right to question everything.” (Ai Weiwei)

>> Photo taken at Tate Modern. <<

I’m keeping your poop in a jar.

2011-08-19T22:41:00.001+01:00

Hayseed Dixie was one band at the Wilderness Festival that really made me laugh. If you ever thought that you maybe handled a break-up badly in the past and behaved like an idiot because someone broke your heart, just look at this guy!

Royal Mews

2011-08-19T20:59:00.001+01:00

The Royal Mews is where the Queen keeps her horses, right next to Buckingham Palace. I took my sister there just a few days before she left London, because she’s crazy about horses and I thought it would be nice to spend a bit of quality time together … so I skipped school for that morning and of we went … there weren’t many horses “on display” but we saw all the fancy carriages and even the car that Kate arrived in for her wedding.

My sister has been gone for more nearly two weeks now and I have to say I kind of miss her here! While I love my peace and freedom, living alone is actually a bit rubbish sometimes. I should really acquire something like a boyfriend, or at least a talking plant.

Mid-week London Photo #26

2011-08-17T10:53:00.001+01:00

She matched her dress to her Picasso.

>> Photo taken at Tate Modern. <<

Like an angry apple tree, I throw my apples if you get too close to me.

2011-08-16T09:19:00.001+01:00

One of the first things we came across at the Wilderness Festival was mindapples.

mindapple (mīnd-ăp-´əl) • n.
a simple day-to-day activity that is good for the mind

Mindapples has a simple message: “If eating five fruit and veg a day is good for our bodies, what about our minds? Share the 5-a-day for your mind and tell us what you do that's good for your mind.” I had trouble thinking what to write when faced with this mindapple. The truth is, I rely on my mind a lot, but I don’t give it much TLC in return.

“Mental health is something that people ignore until they break down,” the guy at the mindapples stand said. Mindapples is trying to get people thinking about the importance of prevention, the same way that we accept exercise and good diet as being essential for preventing physical health problems.

It reminded me how I recently registered with a new doctor, where I was quizzed about my lifestyle. Do you eat fruit and vegetables every day? How many pints of beer do you drink in an average week? How many bottles of wine? How often do you go to the gym? How many hours per week do you walk? How fast do you walk? Do you cycle? How many hours of housework do you do? Are you sexually active? Do you smoke? Any heart attacks, cancer or diabetes in your family? They asked so many questions about the state of my body, but none about the state of my mind.

Back from Wilderness

2011-08-15T21:29:00.001+01:00

Just got home from the excellent Wilderness Festival in Oxfordshire. I will have a few updates about the many quirky things I discovered there over the weekend, but I’m currently nursing a horrible cold I caught from the camping, so for now I’ll just share this song by Lail Arad, a lovely London singer I discovered in the folk tent at Wilderness. She’s all about the funny lyrics. I like.

Lail Arad

So why are people rioting?

2011-08-08T22:46:00.001+01:00

Today I congratulate myself for choosing to live in a neighbourhood I can barely afford, shunning the “up-and-coming” areas that are now experiencing so much trouble. I’m thankfully having a peaceful evening in west London, reading through comments on a Guardian article about the “context of the riots”.

Some of the more thought-provoking opinions picked out below.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You can't systematically exclude people from the opportunities and wealth of British society and then complain when they act like they have no stake in that society.” (CallumM)

“You are over estimating these rioters. They have no cause!” (james5555)

“When people have nothing, and have no prospect of having anything, this is inevitable.” (whitesteps)

“I genuinely worry for the moral state of people who don't demonize this kind of low-level terrorism.” (pintofplutonium)

“This is not a noble-cause-driven protest at circumstance and deprivation. It's almost exclusively young men doing what young men have done for thousands of years - form mobs and behave aggressively.” (philstyle)

“How on Earth can an event in Tottenham be responsible for looters stealing from shops in Walthamstow, Hackney, Brixton and Enfield? These people are looting because they want to loot, because it beats paying for things.” (Persianwar)

“When the so-called elite (banksters, police and politicians) behave like rats, they shouldn't be too surprised when the hopeless behave like it too. Their methods might be less elegant than credit default swaps or subprime mortgages, but the reasoning is exactly the same: Grab as much as you can quickly, as long as you’ve got a chance to do so, and never mind the rest of society.” (Sukram)

“It’s the school holidays ... they're bored. They've been lying on the sofa, watching action films of violent crime, big explosions and lethal weapons. In-between the murders and car chases, advertisements imply they are nerds or wimps if they don’t have iPhones, trainers and Kentucky Fried Chicken - but Mum won’t give them any money. A get-together with their mates and bit of lifestyle looting gets them what they want and provides an evening of testosterone-fuelled excitement.” (PollyDick)

“Clearly the problem is that the Government is not providing people with trainers from JJB sports. If only the Government would distribute sports clothes in a fair and equitable manner, there would be NO NEED FOR PEOPLE TO STEAL THEM. It was the government's fault.” (PecheALaFrog)

…. and my favourite: “Sometimes this newspaper reads like a parody of itself.” (liberalcynic)

While serious news outlets report about riots, I’d like to …

2011-08-08T21:30:00.001+01:00

remind everyone that poetry is better than killing and murdering.

Walked by these poems on Saturday, made me smile.

Leaving and Leaving You

When I leave your postcode and your commuting station,
When I leave undone the things that we planned to do,
You may feel you have been left by association,
But there is leaving and there is leaving you.

When I leave your town and the club that you belong to,
When I leave without much warning or much regret,
Remember, there’s doing wrong and there’s doing wrong to
You, which I’ll never do and I haven’t yet.

And when I have gone, remember that in weighing
Everything up, from love to a cheaper rent,
You were all the reasons I thought of staying
And you were none of the reasons why I went.

And although I leave your sight and leave your setting
And our separation is soon to be a fact,
though you may stand beside what I’m leaving and forgetting,
I’m not leaving you, not if motive makes the act.

Sophie Hannah

@ BBC Proms, plus a little bit about music and bubbling rivers

2011-08-04T22:53:00.001+01:00

Yesterday was my first time at the BBC Proms. My sister is a serious violinist, so I thought it would be nice to take her to a good concert. We went to see Prom 26: Debussy, Dutilleux & Ravel. I’m sure everyone in the UK is familiar with the Proms – it’s probably the biggest classical music festival in the UK, this year running from 15th July – 10th September, with daily concerts at the Royal Albert Hall in South Kensington.

… and here are a few photos.

The concerts are very affordable; we had some cheap tickets for about £12, but you can just turn up on the day and get a standing ticket for £5. It turns out those are actually the best places, you stand right at the bottom near the orchestra. Earlier, my friends from college went for these cheap tickets for Prom 8: Dvořák and Smetana. They particularly loved Smetana’s Má Vlast, which made me really proud (of my country and my taste in music, I love it too), but actually I’ve only ever heard it on a CD and now I’m gutted I missed this opportunity to hear it live. The Royal Albert Hall, being so massive, is really well suited to the kind of elaborate music. I always preferred smaller chamber orchestra in the past, but having been to the Royal Albert Hall I now understand it’s simply a matter of space. With a big orchestra, you need a big room to fill … these pieces were written for fancy opera houses, not for your living room. The finale of Ravel’s Bolero sounded particularly awesome in this big space. So much energy, the whole orchestra was working so hard!

Since I raved so much about Smetana’s Má Vlast, I’m going to leave you with a YouTube of Vltava, one of the pieces from this great symphony. “Má Vlast” means “My Homeland” in Czech, and Vltava is the river that flows through Prague. The music describes the river, starting with its source, a quiet bubbling spring in the mountains in Southern Bohemia (the flute at the beginning) … and then the river starts to gain strength, more instruments join in, you can hear a bit of a whirlpool … and it just gets bigger and louder as the river gets closer towards Prague, then the whole orchestra joins in and the music is much grander, and so it keeps going until the end, flowing into the river Labe. I remember our music teacher in school explaining it to us with an illustrated map of Vltava, and if you listen out for the right bits, it all just makes perfect sense … it’s not just music inspired by a river, it’s actually a perfect description.

Smetana–Vltava

Cambridge: Punting with Bubbly and Inflatable, ehm, Things

2011-08-03T13:05:00.001+01:00

On Saturday I dragged the teen to Cambridge for a day trip. The weather was glorious and my friends Z. & P. kindly took us punting. Punts are basically shallow wooden boats that you move by pushing into the riverbed with a giant pole. Not as easy as it sounds! Luckily, P. has been studying in Cambridge for the past year so he is an expert punter. Some colleges have their own punts, so P. and his friends have been known to punt to a little village near Cambridge, get sloshed in the pub, then punt back. Sounds fun, don’t you think? Or, alternatively, “childish and irresponsible” as P.’s girlfriend puts it.

P. also told me there is a scientific way to punt, invented by Newton. The river was pretty crowded with tourists and we saw many people fall into the water and generally struggle, whereas our boat kept moving effortlessly. Thank you, Isaac Newton. The river Cam goes past a few very nice colleges (notably King’s College) so it’s a nice way to see the city.

It seems having a hen party on a punt is quite a popular thing to do. For my non-UK readers, hen parties are the same as bachelorette parties, i.e. your last opportunity to go wild with your girlfriends before you get married. We met at least 4 of these parties, sipping champagne and flirting with the hot young guy in charge of their punt. What I find funny is that even the older women flirt, like the mother of the bride and her aunts. In fact, especially the older women seem to go wild! Yup, women in England are pretty uninhibited, in a way that might shock some tourists. “They really know how to enjoy themselves,” my dad once diplomatically noted while watching a group of 30-something ladies who were drinking Pimm’s on a train at 11 am.

“The duck looks exactly like my supervisor,” Z. said. We are all working on our MSc theses right now, and clearly going a bit mad!

King’s College.

Hen party shopping list: champagne, plastic cups, giant inflatable penis.

Hen party shopping list continued: pink fluffy ears for your punt-boy.

Or maybe a black feather boa?

Lake District Weekend Trip

2011-07-25T16:38:00.001+01:00

First of all, I want to thank Kash Bhattacharya on the VisitBritain Super Blog for writing a very informative blog post about his budget weekend break in the Lake District. It’s exactly the sort of thing you want to read if you are planning a trip, a complete (and doable) itinerary with useful details, prices and personal recommendations. (It’s exactly the sort of blog post I’m too lazy to write.) I pretty much took his trip and copied it.

I’ll make an exception today and try to make this post more travel-guide-bookish.

On Saturday morning at 8.30 am, we took a train from London Euston to Oxenholme, then transferred onto a train to Windermere, then a short bus ride to Waterhead. Virgin Trains had a weekend promotion which meant the first-class tickets were cheaper than standard class (£58 return London-Oxenholme). I wasn’t going to complain. While booking my train tickets, I also bought the Plusbus tickets which give you unlimited bus travel around lake Windermere for £1.50 for a day. Works out much cheaper than buying the bus tickets later. The cool thing in the lake district is that even the normal buses are open-top.

At Euston, we briefly visited the first-class lounge: free coffee, tea, soft drinks, biscuits … chairs, tables, orchids and nice-smelling soap in the bathrooms. Nice, but nothing overly special. First-class train isn’t too different from standard class, except you get free soft drinks, crisps and biscuits. Also, free wi-fi. Few phrases make me as happy as "free wifi" unless it's "open bar," the Compulsive Confessor recently tweeted. I couldn’t agree more.

We stayed at YHA Ambleside, which is actually not in Ambleside but in Waterhead, right on the shore of Lake Winderemere. The location is AWESOME. I’m not really a hostel person, but they have private rooms here too, which are small but clean. (It worked out at £51.90/night for a twin room with breakfast.) Facilities are not bad if you’re backpacking. There’s a good self-catering kitchen and adjacent dining room, an awesome restaurant (good value too), lots of tables outside for you to enjoy the sunshine, canoe and kayak hire … but they charge £8 for 24 hours of wifi access which is just evilstupidiotic in this day and age. Shouldn’t be legal! The EU should intervene! Another slight grumble about the YHA is that they won’t check you in until 2pm but you have to check out by 10am. Four hours to clean the five-square metre room? Seriously?

Waterhead is a great place to base yourself. We managed to stumble upon the All England Open Skimming Championships 2011. First I thought it was some joke, but apparently no, this is an annual event. They seemed to take it all very seriously, in the way that only English people can.

In the afternoon, we took a 3-mile walk around Ambleside, which took us up to Jenkyn’s Crag for some great views of the lake. The shops in the Lake District sell these cool postcards with maps of walks you can do, and directions on the back side. I don’t like carrying heavy guidebooks with maps around with me, so this is a brilliant idea.

Wouldn’t you just want to sit on this bench and compose some poetry? I’m not surprised the writers used to like the Lake District so much.

In the evening, we spent a lot of time just chilling out on the piers, soaking up the glorious sunshine.

Also in Waterhead, we discovered this pet shop that sold really cool souvenirs. “If my dog doesn’t like you, I probably won’t either.”

On Sunday, we made a “pilgrimage” to Hill Top where Beatrix Potter used to live. There are several ways to get there, most of which involve dishing out quite a bit of money. We planned to take a bus to Bowness, then boat across the lake and afterwards minibus to Hill Top. But plans never quite work out how you expect, and after leaving the hostel at 9.30 am, we found out the first bus out of Ambleside didn’t leave for another hour. So we walked to Windermere (3 miles), then on to Bowness (1.5 miles) and then the nice lady in tourist information told us we can go across the lake with the tourist boat (£9.20 return including minibus to Hill Top) or we can take the car ferry for 50p a little further down the road. After the ferry ride, it’s another 2.5 miles to Hill Top. We were warned it’s a “steep hill”, but really if you’re fit enough to walk up a few flights of stairs then you can easily do it. It’s actually an absolutely beautiful walk and you get to see so much of the countryside and animals that would have inspired Beatrix Potter. Much better than sitting on a stuffy minibus!

Hill Top itself is a nice cottage with a very pretty, traditional English country garden. It’s £7 to enter. The house is kept pretty much exactly how it used to be when Beatrix lived there. Apparently her wish was to leave it “as if she had just popped out to post a letter” rather than making it into a museum. Btw. this is NOT the house they used in the Miss Potter movie. The movie was filmed at Yew Tree Farm in nearby Coniston.

After all that walking, we treated ourselves to a rest and some food at nearby Sawrey House. I had cream tea, and my sister ordered their soup of the day.

We ate and watched this little girl doing cartwheels. Why is it that you can do cartwheels when you’re a kid but then you grow up and suddenly you can’t do them anymore? Because you’re just too scared of falling on your face? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to go back to those beginnings, to be fearless and try mad things again without the fear of failure, the fear of breaking your bones? To forgive ourselves when we fall and to try again and again until those cartwheels are beautiful?

On Sunday afternoon we were treated to some aerobatic antics by the Red Arrows. They were just flying around over the lake, doing their cartwheels in the sky.

And then it was time for our train back to London. We took the local train at 7pm from Windermere to Oxenholme and then transferred onto a 7.29pm Virgin train to London. I didn’t want to leave!!! We could have stayed in Ambleside much longer, as there are plenty of other things to do. But hey, weekend is better than nothing too.

Other things we would have liked to do if there was more time:
- Grasmere – visit to Dove Cottage where William Wordsworth used to live
- visit to Lake Coniston, and Yew Tree Farm where the Miss Potter movie was filmed
- take a ride on the steam train

I’ll have to come back some other time!

Don’t think of it as rain, think of it as liquid sunshine.

2011-07-19T22:17:00.001+01:00

My temporary co-habiting with the teen has reached a happy equilibrium. We’re managed to fit our daily routines around each other. We go to bed at the same time, we wake up at the same time. I did the laundry today and she did the dishes. It’s almost a symbiosis of sorts. But mainly, after a week packed with sightseeing, school, parties, pub visits and trips, I’ve managed to wear her out. She no longer looks bored, she looks tired. Success!

Today, while I slaved on my thesis progress report in the library (mostly consulting a thesaurus to come up with 6-9 clever-sounding pages along the lines of “I haven’t done as much work as I would have liked but PLEASE GIVE ME A GOOD GRADE!!!”), she went off to visit Monument with my friend C. who works as a part-time nanny and has the luxury of spare time in the mornings.

“The Monument to the Great Fire of London” is a 202 ft (61.57 metre) column down in the City of London, which you can walk up to enjoy some stunning views.

There are 311 steps. The teen said they stopped in the middle and cursed for a while. She also said the head spinning is worse on the way down. In fact, walking up and down the Monument is such an achievement that they give you a certificate when you come down.

The view seems worth it, though! The Ghurkin here, or “Penis Building” as we like to call it.

Tower Bridge …

The Shard in Southwark seems close to completion. Love it or hate it? I think it’s quite cool. Not as cool as The Cucumber, but cool enough.

The view is slightly spoiled by this protective cage designed to stop suicides.

St. Paul’s Cathedral …

All photo credits in this post go to my sister, who is now affectionately known on this blog as the Teen. She has been given an old Canon EOS 350D camera by our dad. Occasionally, she produces some rather good stuff with it.

Windsor

2011-07-18T10:50:00.001+01:00

Keeping with the aim of entertaining my teen sister on her visit to England, we took a trip to Windsor yesterday. It’s a great day trip from London, around 45 minutes by train from Paddington (with one change in Slough).

Windsor Castle filled most of our day, but we also strolled around the river and had a peek at Eton College.

Near Eton College, we came across this oddly named school. I mean WTF? Imagine having THAT on your CV!

“One cannot think well, sleep well, live well if one has not dined well.” Virginia Woolf.
I protested against my friends’ junk-food suggestions (McDonalds, Pizza Hut), so we had lunch at Zizzi. Food was nice, although the waiter was being all assertive on me. I was assertive back.

In front of the castle, we were treated a performance by this military band. We were expecting them to play some military marches, but they were playing all kinds of jazz and popular songs. Much more cheerful.

You’re not allowed to take photos inside the castle, but the State Apartments are really impressive, and also rather more comfortable than one would expect in a 12th-century castle. I was transported right back to my childhood when we used to visit all kinds of castles and chateaux in the Czech Republic with my parents at the weekends. I want to be a princess, please!!!

We stayed for an evening service at St. George’s Chapel. Not counting music concerts, it was my first proper church visit in rather many years.

Don’t you steal my sunflowers.

2011-07-16T21:22:00.001+01:00

Sunflower Police, spotted in Ravenscourt Park.

Science Museum

2011-07-14T15:50:00.001+01:00

Since I’m working on my thesis, the teen has been exploring on her own. Yesterday she went to the Science Museum in South Kensington and took some great photos. (She still looks Bored Beyond Belief, though … I’m starting to think that maybe she needs a facelift? My friends, meanwhile, have decided that I am a Bad Sister because I don’t go sightseeing with the teen every day. It really pissed me off. Firstly, the teen has already been to England four times before – so I’ve done ALL the sightseeing with her on previous occasions. Plus, I’m NOT on holiday and I spent a lot of time sorting out her stay in London, including English classes, flights, airport pickup, bank account, Oyster card, SIM card … Never mind. Forget my Fucking Feelings. Bad Sister. Yeah.)

Aaanyway, here come the awesome photos from the Science Museum! I’m ashamed to say I haven’t been to the Science Museum myself yet, even though I walk past it all the time. The queues of schoolchildren usually put me off.

M&M’s World: a house full of happy pills

2011-07-13T10:38:00.001+01:00

My sister has arrived and I must say, it’s hard work entertaining a teenager. Most of my questions are met with one of two replies: “I don’t know” or “I don’t mind”. So that leaves me with figuring out the programme for her … for four weeks! She looks bored no matter what I say, argggh, teenagers.

Yesterday I was a bit stuck, so I suggested we go for a walk around the West End. It’s my favourite part of London because it’s so colourful and busy and full of people and entertainment and then there’s the smell of Chinese food ... yummmm. I needed some cheering up.

In Leicester Square, we stumbled upon M&M’s world. This place is awesome! Exactly what I needed – something fun and colourful that doesn’t involve alcohol (the teenager is underage). It’s like Disneyland, but free. They sell m&m’s in every colour of the rainbow. The Receptacle of All Knowledge (i.e. Wikipedia) tells me that the store opened on 13th June 2011 and is the world's largest candy store, at 35,000 sq ft, bigger even than the M&M’s store in New York City. There are FOUR floors of m&m’s-themed souvenirs. It even made the teenager SMILE. And I mean smile, not forced smile or bored smile.

P.S. Was I like this at her age too?

Škoda Jokes

2011-07-05T13:00:00.001+01:00

On Saturday, the Czech player Petra Kvitová won this little tennis tournament called the Wimbledon. What a thrilling match it was! Everyone thought Maria Sharapova was going to win, so this came as a great surprise.

What I love about Petra Kvitová is her modesty and lack of interest in the celebrity lifestyle. She’s shy. Her English isn’t perfect. She doesn’t have a flat stomach. She turns up to press conferences straight out of the shower, with wet hair. She doesn’t even wear make-up. She just plays tennis and she’s winning and that’s all that matters.

The Telegraph picked up on this, poking fun at the fact that she drives a Skoda, despite the millions of dollars she has won thanks to her successes this year. They even added a few old Skoda jokes. I thought that was pretty funny, so I searched online and to my surprise I found out there’s a whole blog dedicated to Skoda jokes!

Here are a few that really made me laugh:

How do you double the price of a Skoda?
Fill up the tank.

What do you call a Skoda with a sun roof ?
A skip.

How do you overtake a Skoda ?
Run.

Why do Skodas have heated rear windscreens?
To keep your hands warm while you’re pushing it.

What do you call a Skoda driver who says he has a speeding ticket ?
A dreamer.

Why is a Skoda and a baby similar?
They both never go anywhere without a rattle.

How do you make a policeman laugh?
Tell him your Skoda just got nicked.

Canterbury

2011-07-04T12:23:00.001+01:00

Yesterday, my friend C. organized a trip to Canterbury. Yeeei, Canterbury Tales! Yeeei, Canterbury Cathedral! Those are the only things I knew about Canterbury. I bet Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales is high up on the list of books people only pretend to have read. I won’t even pretend. I tried, in high school, nine years ago, and I quickly noticed it wasn’t English.

A Somonour was ther with us in that place,
That hadde a fyr-reed cherubinnes face,
For saucefleem he was, with eyen narwe.
As hoot he was, and lecherous as a sparwe,
With scalled browes blake, and piled berd;

I think I’ll have to get my hands on a modern translation.

Canterbury is a great day trip out of London, less than two hours by coach or train. We ended up going in a big group, which could be thought of as …
a) great – I have so many friends! Wow. I am Miss Popular. How did this happen?
b) rubbish – because it ends up being sort of like an Organized Coach Tour, which is the one type of travel I dread the most, because it involves primarily waiting for other people and not much else. (“You have 30 minutes to walk around, then meet in the car park.”)

Unfortunately, this car in front of Canterbury Cathedral is not the vehicle we arrived in. No, no, our student budget only allowed for a National Express Coach. (Uncomfortable and slow, but cheap and hey, you get to explore the country!)

Here are a few photos of the beautiful Cathedral grounds … Sorry, I didn’t take photos inside the Cathedral. Despite my lack of religious beliefs, I prefer to just sit down on the ancient benches, breathe in the wax-scented air and take in the atmosphere of the place. Cathedrals are such great places to escape the summer heat, too!

Unfortunately, there was an ordination service going on at the Cathedral, which was off-limits to the public so we didn’t get to see a service. I would have loved to hear the choir there. I bet it would sound amazing.

My favourite part of the Cathedral’s grounds was this herb garden. It’s beautiful, quiet and hidden away in a corner. I managed to sneak away here for a lovely moment of peace. I need to find a place like this in London.

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

2011-06-26T15:54:00.001+01:00

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

2011-06-22T16:37:00.001+01:00

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.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.

2011-06-19T12:02:00.001+01:00

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

2011-06-12T21:21:00.001+01:00

“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

2011-06-08T19:15:00.001+01:00

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

2011-06-05T13:07:00.001+01:00

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

2011-06-04T13:03:00.001+01:00

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!

Why he doesn’t travel anymore

2011-05-28T14:33:00.001+01:00

Today I'm bringing you a translated article from the Czech travellers' portal Hedvábná Stezska, which is Czech for “Silk Road”. The article is by David Kučera, a well-known Czech traveller and travel writer. It was him who inspired my thirst for exotic adventures when I was still too young to get out on the road by myself. Through his writing, I started to discover what's going on on this Planet and how people live.

Revisiting David's website after many years, I was intrigued to find that the latest article he had written was titled: “Why I don't travel any more”. I'm sharing my translation of it with you because I think many of us, expats, might find some revelations in it. It’s looooooong, so I’ve added some photos from my past travels to break it up.

(It was an interesting linguistic experiment to do this translation – suddenly you find yourself writing somebody else's words, using vocabulary and phrases that you would never otherwise use. I should do this more often to enrich my own range of expression.)

Why I don't travel anymore, by David Kučera

Often we ponder over the reasons why we travel, what it gives us and what it takes from us, why exploring the world has become our biggest passion. But so far we haven’t asked why some of us are quitting travelling …

“Silk Road” asked me for an article on the topic “why I don’t travel any more”. Before setting out to pen it down, I reminded myself what I wrote a few years ago in my traveller’s profile. Among other things “… I would like to stop travelling …”, because “… I will be more complete when I stop feeling the need for exotic things, which really just fill my voids and that only for a few moments.” Well, has the time come yet?

Escape

The gradual evolution from a desire to explore the world to exploring yourself – for many years, that is how I saw my motivation for travelling. To be on the road meant a sense of freedom; to always go forward, visit exciting places, taste exotic delicacies, to uncover the mysteries of foreign customs. Travelling expanded my horizons in the sense of uncovering the human tendency towards one-sided comprehension of things, it offered me the opportunity to confront different points of view and realize the relativity of each one of them.

In comparison, the reality at home seemed a lot more sobering – the everyday routine, dissatisfaction with the role of a cog in a wheel, unsolved problems which seemed to magically disappear while I travelled, then reappeared when I returned home. So travelling became a drug, which was hard to resist and easy to succumb to.

On the road, I feel exceptionally satisfied, so why couldn’t I experience the same feelings at home? Is it even possible for me to combine the euphoria I get from travelling with everyday life? – I once asked myself.

The search for these answers brought me to a chain of other, nearly existential, questions. At the end of it, I concluded that behind all those various reasons for travelling, there is one common thread – escape: escape from the dysfunctional family I came from, from the daily grind, from the never-ending confrontation with ignorance, from my powerlessness over the breakdown of society, from frustration that reality isn’t what I’d like it to be; an escape from reality. Behind the pretext of exploration, I was hiding the need to use new adventures as a way of silencing the annoyances of life – a constant stream of intense sensory experiences guaranteed that I would always “have something to remember, or at least something to look forward to” and that there would be almost no time to concern myself with unpleasant or painful matters.

Overwhelm and Forget

From this point of view, everything unexpectedly started to make sense. Freedom? - yes, when I can choose, then I'd prefer to freely think about pleasant things, and freely forget the unpleasant ones. Always forward? - yes, to not look backwards and to not return to the past, because then I might see what mistakes I have made. Exciting places? - yes, the more, the better, just to make sure the excitement does not end and that I don't have to spend time occupying my mind with thoughts about myself. Exotic delicacies? - yes, with good food it's always easy to forget about things. Foreign customs? - yes, the more knowledge I accumulate, the more I will feel that I am worth something.

To overwhelm ourselves so much that there is no time to think about difficulties and pains, that is, after all, the way that our civilization has been functioning in the past couple of decades, so I didn't find it strange in any way. Until the time when my accumulated and unsolved problems and pains started to catch up with me, when I started doing things that were hurting the people around me and that I later regretted, at times when I was dissatisfied without any tangible reason. My favourite sentence “I work eleven months so that I can live for a month”, referring to a month's holiday spent on the road, showed that I didn't believe I could live life to the full. The decision to make a change forced me to reconsider my priorities in life.

All this happened about four years ago, approximately at the time when I wrote the profile I mentioned at the beginning. Nevertheless … to begin living the change was more difficult than just realizing its necessity.

The first year, I again escaped onto the road, although I was able to observe my feelings with the knowledge that I am escaping. The year after that, our son was born, and we almost immediately took him with us to Asia for work. After a few months, as soon as everything new and exotic became routine, my shadows reappeared. I couldn't even hide from them out there. Wouldn’t it be more meaningful to stay at home and work on yourself, than to waste time in a pleasant, but, nevertheless, an illusion, on an adventurous, but, nevertheless, an escape? – I again asked.

Third Reaction

The journey of self-discovery that I have been on since, is fascinating and painful at the same time – my mind fights the changes in all sorts of ways, but from a certain point on, the return to old habits is not possible. That is why, today, during every significant activity, I ask myself: Why are you doing this? Is it pushing you somewhere or is it purposeless? From time to time I still feel the insincerity of my answer, but after realizing that humans simply think what they want to think, and not what the reality is, I take this as a fact that I just need to live with.

It is exactly this twisted perception of reality that is the basis of the “clever” concept of escape. My negative feelings resulting from everyday routine, from the role of cog in a wheel, from frustration that the situation is not developing how I would want; these feelings don't have anything to do with reality, but they come from something that I call “third” reaction.

I have observed three basic reactions to reality: either I accept reality, or I try to change it, or I will forever occupy my mind with it without accepting it or changing it. From my personal experience, the first two reactions appear to be constructive, the third is unhelpful. When I look at my life, which is full of “third” reactions, it becomes easy to discover where the big part of my feeling of dissatisfaction comes from. It stems from issues that remain “hanging” with me as a result of the “third” reaction – and in time they build up – instead of passing through me and clearing up space.

Why I don't travel

Travelling is slowly stopping to be an escape and it is becoming one of the many ways to embrace reality. Even today I consider it to be an inexhaustible source of inspiration; but it is questionable whether I need this type of inspiration right now, when I feel more drawn towards other ways of putting together my picture of the world.

Beside my inner state, the external conditions have also changed. Children came, and although it is possible to travel with them in just about any way, we observed during our stay in Asia – and later here in Europe as well – that our small children prefer staying longer in fewer places, rather than moving frequently and spending every night in a different place. Likewise, for us, it became more important to create an inspiring home for our children, so this is where an appropriate part of our energy goes now. And last, but not least, we are finding out that, as parents, we always have more to learn – about ourselves, about our attitude towards others and life itself – so we are actively working on this area as well.

Travelling still remains, and will remain, a part of my life – if it will make sense in the context of the current stage of my life. Right now it would be, for example, going to work abroad, in the future travelling with my children – to guide them through the diversity of the world, if they are inclined in this way. But … tomorrow it could all be different.
I wish you that you get at least as much out of travelling as I got; mostly I wish you that you recognize the role that travel plays in your life better than I managed.

David Kučera is a traveller and an author of many articles about the meaning and effects of travelling on the world. You can learn more about him on his website for independent travellers ecesty.cz

Whitstable: pretend like it’s the weekend

2011-05-26T15:56:00.001+01:00

It seems we’re having some sort of tropical rain storm outside today, so I’m glad to be in the comfort of my home with a cup of coffee, ready to tell you about my trip out of London yesterday.

While the newspapers worry about another steaming volcano in Iceland threatening to ruin people’s Bank Holiday jet-away plans, I wisely choose a “beach holiday” reachable by train. After a bit of Googling, I decided it was going to be either Camber Sands near Rye or Whistable. The Internet gave me the impression they were both idyllic beach towns. The Internet is a liar.

Whitstable then.

Lately, I have spent much time fantasizing about leaving the London madness, “quitting the rat race” and relocating somewhere quieter. This trip was the sobering up I needed. Our train to Whitstable passed through some pretty rough towns. Rochester … whatever happened in Rochester? Rochester is like a broken home, all sadness, ghosts and rust. Sure, the property prices are probably lower there. For a reason. It was a slap in the face. Not all small towns are full of smiling children playing in green fields, or happy parents sipping Fairtrade caramel lattes with gold dust sprinkled on top. It reminded me what I escaped from 9 years ago. The small-town boredom, teenagers hanging out in dusty car parks, hating everything and everyone, no opportunities, no possibilities, nothing to do and nowhere to go.

Whitstable wasn’t that much better. The Internet gives you the impression it’s a gourmet paradise, a fishing village where posh Londoners come for their seafood. I was mildly disappointed. There are far more trees and green spaces in my neighbourhood in London than the whole of Whitstable. The grass is not greener, but the concrete sure is greyer.

The locals were a friendly bunch, though. We stopped an older couple to ask them for directions, and they explained to us that the name Whitstable comes from “White Staple” because they used to have salt pans here. But now they don’t make salt any more, because this is Britain and nobody makes anything in Britain these days.

We tried to make the most of the rocky beach, eating strawberries and reading in the sun. I’m currently re-reading Jack Kerouac’s “On The Road”, so my head is full of images of the California sun, endless highways and hobos hitchhiking across America with barely a dollar in their pocket, laughing and enjoying an ultimate freedom on the road. I’m travelling in my head … with Mr. Sal Paradise and his fellow bums for company. It’s a fun journey.

The lady who sold us the strawberries mentioned something about divorcing her husband after 20 years. She said it with a brave matter-of-fact voice that was supposed to make it sound like nothing was happening, but, deep down, you knew she was totally gutted. I felt sorry for her, in this town, alone. Her strawberries tasted good.

It was my first time ever tasting oysters! Hey, I come from a landlocked country. We don’t eat oysters there. They tasted just like the sea. Yeah, it was exactly like Eating Sea.

A dad and his little kid were flying a kite on the beach. The sky was glorious.

One of the things Whitstable is supposedly known for are the funny street names.

My friend M. lost his shoes in Whitstable. He left them on the beach and then the high tide came and took them. He had to travel back to London barefoot. Hardly anyone on the Tube noticed. Hilarious.

---------------------------------------

Camber Sands next time.

Judy’s Affordable Vintage Fair, York Hall

2011-05-23T11:06:00.001+01:00

Yesterday I spent a nice girly afternoon at Judy’s Affordable Vintage Fair. The fair is held regularly at York Hall in Bethnal Green, just across the road from the Museum of Childhood. (If you didn’t have much a childhood, go view it displayed behind glass cabinets?)

I had been missing these girly outings; most of my days are spent hanging out with boys which is what happens if you go to engineering school. I do love my platonic boyfriends, but boys just don’t understand the importance of dresses, necklaces, bracelets, hats, bags, shoes and cupcakes.

I totally fell in love with this fur coat. (PETA members turn away! I like warm things and I apologize for my primeval taste in fashion.) I’ve been wanting a nice fitted sheepskin coat for a long time but this one came as a surprise. It was so perfect with the embroidery and all, but it’s totally the wrong season for it. I really should not be spending my summer budget on winter clothes, so I decided to leave it there. My heart is crying a little right now.

And then I found this pack of amusing coasters. Destiny or what?

This dress reminded me of the one Sarah Jessica Parker wore for the London premiere of Sex and the City. So cute.

The best thing about rummaging through clothes racks at a vintage market is imagining stories about the previous owner of these outfits. Especially with some of the more crazy drag-queen outfits. Who wore that? Where did they wear it? Whyyyy did they wear it? I start imagining cabaret evenings in smoky halls fifty years ago, a lonely magician performing old tricks on stage in a shiny jacket, a bored audience, a tired waitress with bags under her eyes, a guy sitting by the bar alone, searching for his lost happiness at the bottom of a glass of whisky … or maybe a jolly evening of night dancing with friends in the swinging sixties, with high-maintenance hair and bright lipstick.

One of the stalls was selling old post cards and some of them had writing on them too, so I spent a bit of time reading them. I love sending post cards to friends, but thinking up something short and witty to say is often a difficult task. Plus, postcards are not sealed so I am always aware that the postman might be reading it first. Usually I end up writing something mundane like “Greeting from Paris/Vienna/London. It’s sunny here and we have visited a lot of museums. Miss you, xxx Lucie.”

Next time I can write, “There are such lots of goats about.”

Another thing this vintage fair reminded me of was rummaging through my mother’s cupboards. My mum used to be very crafty, she could sew, knit, crochet, embroider and used to make beautiful clothes for herself and for me when I was a kid. I used to have the best fancy dress costumes; my mum would spend weeks sewing sequins onto my princess dresses and I loved it. For herself, she used to make ball gowns, and then she would wear them to actual balls and do actual ballroom dancing. They’d dress up with my dad and my grandma or maybe a neighbour would babysit and there would be this Sense of Occasion in the house.

So my mum used to have supplies of everything. Buttons, fabrics, lace, ribbons, wool … I used to take it all out and look through her supplies when I was little, and she’d get angry at me for making a mess. Times have changed. The skills considered essential for a 21st century woman are totally different. Instead of sewing and ballroom dancing, I’ve learnt how to speak English, invest on the stock market and program in Java.

My mum also used to have these beautiful wooden carved boxes full of jewellery. And ooooooh, did I like rummaging through those when I was little.

I bought many, many necklaces and bracelets at the vintage fair; it’s one of those things I find hard to resist. Now I just need the beautiful wooden boxes for them.

Another one of the stalls was selling these old fashion magazines from France. Everything in them was hand-drawn and it reminded me of the old Burda magazines my mum used to have. Instead of being told what outfits to buy and where, there were patterns for making those outfits.

We ended the girly afternoon with a nice cup of tea, served in nice vintage cups.

Just. One. More.

2011-05-18T22:05:00.001+01:00

One last exam tomorrow. I promise there will be lots of posts about fun activities in London afterwards. Mostly, I promise this to myself.

Meanwhile, one of my course mates sent me this rather hilarious link to Wikipedia’s entry for burnout.

I thought burnout was something crazy people did; crazy people who need to be taken out of the office on a stretcher one day, only to be forever known as “the dude who used to work here shhhhh let’s not talk about it out loud but he lives in some rehab facility up in the mountains now”. People who end up wearing flowing white gowns (which look nothing like wedding gowns), walking slowly, mumbling nonsense and who, once in a while, have to be wrestled to the floor by nurses and injected with tranquilizer. (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest comes to mind, or that rehab place from Norwegian Wood.) People who may have tried going postal. But no, the according to Wikipedia (that most-respected source of all knowledge since the Bible), burnout seems to be something that we, Normal People in the city, exercise daily. Here we go, the phases of burnout:

A compulsion to prove oneself
Working harder
Neglecting one's own needs
Displacement of conflicts (the person does not realize the root cause of the distress)
Revision of values (friends or hobbies are completely dismissed)
Denial of emerging problems (cynicism and aggression become apparent)
Withdrawal (reducing social contacts to a minimum, becoming walled off; alcohol or other substance abuse may occur)
Behavioural changes become obvious to others
Depersonalization (life becomes a series of mechanical functions)
Inner emptiness
Depression
Burnout syndrome

Superman returns.

2011-05-08T13:07:00.002+01:00

Exam revision. You wake up, you work, you go to sleep. There’s only one journey: apartment to department. You’re so nervous you can’t stomach any solid food, so your diet consists pretty much of the following: Haribos, Muller rice, McDonald’s (their burgers and buns are designed to be extra soft so that you can gulp them down as quickly as possible without chewing). You wash it down with Coke or coffee, giving you those bloodshot eyes and a pulse that feels like there’s a DJ playing head-bashing remixes of dum-dum-dum inside of you.

You don’t do laundry any more, leading to some interesting wardrobe combinations. You haven’t taken the trash out for two weeks. You stop going to the supermarket and only dash out to the 24/7 shop when you’re out of Coke, Muller rice or Haribos. You ran out of toilet paper so you’re using those paper towels from the kitchen or Kleenex instead. Then you ran out of hand soap, so you’re using shampoo for that. You wear earplugs all day long to block out everyone and their talking, talking, talking. Why is everyone talking all the time? Get back to work!

You haven’t spoken to another human being for at least a week, not counting the dude at the 24/7 shop. You’re so tired you need to use a calculator for basic stuff like 5 x 7. You want to sleep all the time, but you can’t sleep because you’re too stressed out. You know there’s not enough time to do all the past exam papers for all your subjects, even if you stopped sleeping altogether. The left half of your brain hurts from doing too much maths and logic. Bed hair becomes your normal hairstyle, every day.

Your face looks so bad that the dude in 24/7 starts greeting you with, “Good morning, sir.” (This has actually happened.) You hallucinate and start seeing Osama bin Laden everywhere. He’s driving the car that goes past as you walk to the 24/7 shop. He’s the guy behind the counter at 24/7. He’s Obama’s head of security. He’s Sasha’s and Malia’s babysitter. He’s your laundry guy. He’s running a surf shop in L.A. with Michael Jackson and Elvis …

The only measurement of time that matters to you is “days till next exam”. Your answer to any invitations from friends is, “after exams”. There are about 500 items on the “after exams” to- do list, starting with “get so drunk you forget your name”. (You sarcastically call that a Fresh Start.)

Then your body says fuck you and gives up. You have two choices:
a) Be a modern person and start taking Prozac. There’s medication for everything these days, right? Order it from some dodgy website in Canada if you don’t have time to go to the doctor. (Let’s face it, there’s no time.) Stay at home and work even longer hours. See how long you can keep it up before you actually need to call 999. Treat it like a competition.
b) Go to the park, get some fresh air. Take out those ear plugs and hear birds chirping. Yeah, there are actual birds in London. Wow. Go swimming, sit in the jacuzzi for half a hour and do nothing. Have dinner with friends. Eat. Sleep. Forget work for a while. Admit you’re not Superman.

So, I’m taking it slow for now, despite the fact that I have 5 more exams to do. Last week I had a nasty reminder than I’m only human and that I’d better stop ignoring my basic human needs.

Bonus point: I started to like London again. It’s not such a bad place if you make the time to enjoy it.

>> photos from Hyde Park and Gloucester Road Tube station <<

A Royal Wedding Special

2011-04-29T20:19:00.001+01:00

There are a few photos we took in St. Andrews last weekend which I was saving for today!

I brought my friend Z. these Kate & Wills masks as a present. She is one of those people who couldn’t care less about the Royals, so I bought it as a joke. The party shop I walk past on the way to the Tube every day was selling them and I thought this is just the right gift for my host up in Scotland. I was a bit embarrassed walking in and asking for them … I didn’t want the owner to think I am some sort of Royal Family Fan Club Manager.

It turned out to be a very good gift indeed. I had no idea it would turn into such a hilarious evening; we took photos of Kate & Wills in various poses and situations and spent hours giggling ...

Who would have thought five pounds could buy you so much fun … :0) I know it’s very fashionable right now to say you find the Royals ridiculous and the wedding is costing the tax payer too much money etc. etc. but it’s really just an opportunity to have a bit of a laugh.

Enjoy!

Scotland

2011-04-25T22:59:00.001+01:00

I took three days off during the Easter weekend to visit Z., one of my old friends from home. She’s doing a master’s in St. Andrew’s, so that’s where I went. (I feel the need to explain this right at the beginning. No, I am not a massive Royal Family fan, and no, I didn’t go to St. Andrew’s on a Wills & Kate pilgrimage.)

My trip started with an overnight coach journey to Dundee (my first overnighter in the UK!). It was packed and I didn’t sleep quite as well as I had hoped. Earplugs and eye mask definitely helped, though. Now if only my legs were shorter. Those seats were definitely economy class. But hey, 500 miles for a mere £33 (return!) is an offer you can’t refuse if you’re a student like me.

I was greeted by this thick fog coming from the sea which covered everything for two days. The Scots called it the Haar.

Some guy practising his guitar performance in Younger Hall.

Speaking of music, we went to watch some live bands at the student union at St. Andrew’s University on Saturday night, which turned into an unexpectedly amazing experience. It started off with a folk band called Young Farmers’ Disco – cool, chilled out guitar tunes. And then! Soul Food, a kind of big band (very big band, in fact … like 14 people on stage?)… jazzy, funky, feel-good music … not sure how to describe it, but their Facebook page sums it up well, I think: “We return to you this year with more soul than you can shake your booty at, more funk than your body can handle and more groovalicious beats than are morally proper.” It was a show like a show should be, a show that makes you forget everything and just dance, dance and sing along. Everyone was having such good fun. The lead singer, Catriona MacLeod was just unbelievable. She sang perfectly, for over two hours with so much energy and enthusiasm. She was totally the soul of the party.

I did my best to unwind over the weekend, but to be honest I felt kind of tense the whole time. I couldn’t quite get those creepy crawly exams out of my head. Now I just want to go & and have that massive fight, kick the crap out of those papers and get it over with.

St. Andrew’s is the birthplace of golf, it’s where all the rules are decided, yada yada … so Z. insisted that I must go to the driving range at the Golf Practice Centre and do my 50 golf balls. I sucked monumentally, but it was kind of fun as I started improving towards the end.

Like proper ladies, we had tea and sandwiches at the Golf Hotel. Lovely view of the sea.

We visited the St. Andrew’s aquarium, where I met this blue lobster. Blue lobsters are blue because of some genetic defect which makes them produce too much protein. When cooked, they turn red like normal lobsters, apparently. But why would you cook such a cute thing?

Z. had this knitted bunny on her bed. I love how she decorates each place where she lives. She’s moved a lot in the last couple of years, but she has this talent for making it feel like home each time.

I know those foggy pictures make St. Andrew’s look like a very gloomy place, and it was … for two days. On Sunday, the weather Gods took pity and treated us to a gloriously sunny day. Then, after half an hour of taking photos, I realized there was no memory card in my camera. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it earlier? I swear I’m not normally so dumb. We cycled to this quiet beach with a rock called Maiden Rock and had a jolly nice time enjoying the sea, sun and solitude. Perhaps such good moments shouldn’t be spoiled with the clickety-click of cameras. It’s not like I will need pictures to help me remember. Awesomeness stays.

P.S. Apologies for yet another post NOT about London on this London blog. There’s one thing that became apparent to me on that lovely beach. I don’t really like London. I kind of really want to leave. I want to move somewhere where I can be closer to nature and spend more time outside. Somewhere with a bit more space. Somewhere where you can look out into the distance and not have the view obstructed with buildings, buildings, endless crappy buildings. What could we humans possibly build that is so much better than nature? A shopping centre? A housing estate? An office building? Meh.

How to waste time. (Episode#1 from an infinite series …)

2011-04-21T17:45:00.001+01:00

Here’s a video I made today when I should have been revising for my exams instead.

Little Venice

2011-04-09T18:05:00.001+01:00

I’d been wanting to go to Little Venice for a long, long time. With the perfect weather we are having right now – I feel like I’m in a different country! – I arranged to meet a friend at Paddington and off to Venice we strolled. Okay, so it doesn’t look anything like Venice, not that I would know, I haven’t been to Venice … but it’s a nice place to go for a walk if you’re around Paddington.

I spent my undergraduate days in Birmingham, which is all about the canals, so it was really lovely to see these canal boats again. I remember my last days in Birmingham, back in the summer of 2007, walking around Brindley Place and the Gas Street Basin, hand-in-hand with my then-boyfriend and feeling so sad about leaving. It was late July, sunny and warm and the three years of my student life in the city were over. They had been happy years (mostly). Important years, growing-up and discovering who I was as an adult. And I didn’t want to see it end… So today I had a little flashback of those happy old days.

“You could sell your flat and buy a boat to live on,” my friend B. said as we were passing through here.
“Yeah, I could sell my flat, except I don’t own it, you muppet!”

The hall of residence that I lived in during my first year at uni overlooked a canal and I would always look at the boats dreamily, thinking how cool it would be to live on one. In the summer at least.

The Grand Union Canal connects London to Birmingham. Apparently you can run an ultramarathon (145 miles) along it. “It’s on my to-do list,” my friend B. said, “I hate myself, so I like to do things like that to my body.”

I like this lady’s dress!

Free Space Gallery

2011-04-07T19:20:00.001+01:00

Last week I had an interesting experience. I went to visit the Free Space Gallery at the Kentish Town Health Centre. Mel, my old friend from high school is an arts manager & curator there. If you are vaguely interested in the arts scene in London, go and peek at her excellent blog. The event last week was showcasing work by Sybella Perry, who was an artist in residence at the Freespace Gallery for 9 months, sponsored by the Arts Council England. When I was in boarding school, we had an artist in residence there too, and I think it’s just wonderful that such things still exist in our silly cash-obsessed society. During her residency, Sybella made two films: Workshop I and Waterfall I. Workshop I features some kind of therapy dance / movement / music session held at the health centre. (Read: old people going wild, crazy and letting their hair down.) The second movie was a landscape exploration of the wonderful Falls of Clyde under show. The movies were screened both at the same time, with those old fashioned 16-mm projectors humming in the background. It created an interesting mood.

The Kentish Town Health Centre is very funky and colourful, for a health centre, if you know what I mean. There was also a performance by Sing for Joy, a choir for people with Parkinson’s disease. Now, this is not something I would normally go to see out of my own initiative. Knowing Mel, I had somehow been imagining young, artsy people and all things hip and cool. Parkinson’s really isn’t top of my list of hip and cool things. So I must admit that, at first, I felt really uncomfortable standing around in a room full of old people with various disabilities. But they sang really well and you could really see these guys come alive when they were making music. Like they were showing the world, “Hey! Don’t write me off yet. There’s still lead in my pencil!”

There was free food – Mel arranged for this wonderful Lebanese food from the Phoenicia Food Hall. (Note to self: must visit this place some day.) There was Greek salad, grilled chicken, falafel, hummus, pitta breads, grilled potatoes, stuffed grape leaves, various sauces … and various other things that I don’t know the names of, yum, yum. The choir people apparently didn’t like the food much. I guess that was probably a bit of a clash of generations.

There was also free wine, which attracted one homeless guy from the street who just came in for the booze. He downed many, many glasses quickly and eventually sort of collapsed to the floor. Ooooh, the perils of serving free alcohol in public places.

P.S. Among other happy news, I have been accepted as a writer on Technorati. I should really be concentrating on my exam revision, but lately I find myself drawn to writing a lot. It’s just rewarding to share my thoughts and words with other people. Now … need to mull over my first Technorati contribution. What will it be?

Museum of London

2011-03-29T19:30:00.001+01:00

This afternoon I went to the Museum of London with two of my friends from uni. It’s nice to take time to do some sightseeing. There are still many things in London that I haven’t seen purely because I live here and I always think “I can go see that any time.” I was really tired from all my work, too, so it was nice to spend an afternoon with friends.

I was planning to take my proper camera with me & then forgot about it, so excuse these rubbish phone photos. I will try to make up for it with witty commentary! :o)

The museum of London is a not-particularly-beautiful concrete building from the 60s, but there is a nice circular garden at the entrance.

The staff at the Museum of London wear bright pink shirts! I wonder if this turns off some of their potential job applicants.

The gift shop was selling official china souvenirs for the Royal Wedding. I had seen a bunch of tacky designs on the Internet, but unsurprisingly the real thing is rather more … reserved. Now, I am a little bit puzzled by the royal pill box. What do you use a pill box for? Pills? Also, what the hell is a tankard? Why not just say mug? Or cup? Is that not posh enough? I am yet to meet a person who says, “I’m going to have a nice tankard of tea.” Clearly the people I socialize with are not posh enough. :o)

Roman gold coins. Seems boring, but my friend L. made me laugh when he asked: “What was the emperor Vespasian known for?” Apparently, this guy introduced urine tax on public toilets. From those days onwards, we have the proverb “Money doesn’t smell.” (Coins from the time of Vespasian are third from the left in the top row.)

War, Plague & Fire. This sign made me wonder why history is just full of grim things. Why don’t we learn more about the fun things? Was live no fun back in the old days? Or is fun not worth learning about? Maybe that’s why I didn’t like history in school. My friend M. asked a similar question in the Stone Age, Iron Age & Bronze Age section. “Why is it all about weapons? Why are there no sex toys?” I told him it’s because kids come to the museum on school trips. (But then again, does that mean we think it’s more acceptable to teach our kids about violence, war and killings rather than about sex?)

“Like its men, the women of medieval London were often in trade. They could own property and run their own businesses. Rich daughters were married young to make useful family connections but poorer women often waited until their 20s, marrying when they had saved enough money to set up a home with their husband.” Not much has changed since medieval times then. I found this strangely reassuring to read.

Plague epidemics were an important part of London’s history, so there is a whole section dedicated to their history. Apparently Londoners were encouraged to drink alcohol to prevent plague! Now I know where the English love of boozing comes from.

“Goa stone”. I am always interested to learn about the old connections between England and India, having lived in both countries. Explanation below.

Pearly King. I had spotted a person dressed like this in Covent Garden about two weeks ago. So now I was surprised to learn that this is a 19th-century tradition, rather than just the eccentricity of one freak! People of the working class dress like this to collect money for London-based charities. There’s even the Original London Pearly Kings and Queens Association and a rival group known as the Pearly Guild. And a Wikipedia page, of course.

The museum is also hosting a London Street Photography exhibition. Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to view it, so I’ll have to come back some time soon.

When you can’t make a big journey, take a little trip.

2011-03-27T15:41:00.001+01:00

The weather is beautiful and all I want to do is spend more time outside and take trips to beautiful little villages around England, or hey, around the world. But as I mentioned, work is calling and there is no time for travelling. This afternoon I at least treated myself to a little trip to the park … the great thing about my park is that it changes so much with the seasons? (Remember the autumn burst of colour I posted?)

Enjoy Spring!

P.S. I have redesigned my blog a bit. Hope you like the bigger photos.

Quintessentially British

2011-03-26T20:06:00.001Z

Spring term has finished, and my social life is finished with it. No more going to lectures, just staying at home and working alone on my individual project, plus revising for exams, again alone. I was productive for the first few days, but it’s getting harder and harder! I miss learning together with my course mates, I miss the long lunches, I miss our silliness and commiserating.

But I have tons of academic papers to get through, one thesis to write and eight exams to revise for. So I have this mug to remind me to just keep calm and carry on. If there is a sentence that perfectly sums up British culture to me, it’s this one. No matter what is happening, let’s not be too dramatic, let’s have a cup of tea and back to business.

There’s a nice website here which explains the history of The Keep Calm and Carry poster. It was designed by an unknown civil servant of His Majesty’s Stationery Office during World War 2. There were quite a few of these morale-boosting posters being used at the time and this particular one was prepared to be used in case Germany invaded England. That, of course, never happened and therefore most of the posters were destroyed. The website nicely summarizes how people feel about the simple and straightforward message that the Keep Calm and Carry On posters convey: “all these years later, people still find it so appealing and reassuring in our modern times”.

Kingston-upon-Thames

2011-03-15T12:12:00.001Z

On Saturday, I woke up to a sunny morning and my first thought was, “let’s go for a trip!”
Funnily enough, the horoscope that appears on my Google webpage was saying, “The Moon is in your 9th House of Exotic Travel today.” I didn’t know I had a House of Exotic Travel, but it makes complete sense that I do.

Realistically, real exoticism was not on the menu, so I took a bus down to Kingston-upon-Thames for a bit of walking around, sightseeing and shopping (resulting in a new jacket, sailor-style and on sale! Apparently sailor-style is in fashion right now). Kingston is a major retail centre and a nice alternative to Westfield / High Street Kensington / Oxford Street – all the major high-street brands are there. But it’s also a nice small town to walk around, with a market and the river and cafés.

Kingston Town Hall with a market around it.

There’s a bit of a French market near the town hall, with cheeses, crepes, garlic prawns (amazing smell!), French music, French movies and even Eiffel Tower miniatures! I wonder if anyone really buys those in Kingston? How bizarre!

This cake shop is so cute. I want a table like that …

And Kingston’s most recognizable landmark, the falling telephone boxes in Old London Road.

Smooth Sailing

2011-03-12T19:47:00.001Z

Last weekend I took time off from my busy schedule of work-work-work for a little trip with the yacht club. We sailed from Portsmouth Harbour to Yarmouth on the Isle of Wight and back. Yarmouth turned out to be a peaceful little town with a cosy pub, a pretty sunset and many, many boats. I’m really in love with sailing, despite all the ups and downs. (A few months back I had to pull out of a sailing trip half way through as I was puking my guts out …) It’s a bit of a dream come true, because I’ve always wanted to sail as a kid and I never had the opportunity until now.

The Czech Republic is wonderful. But it’s small and landlocked, which kind of sucks. When I was a kid, I couldn’t help thinking that we got the rough end of the deal. We didn’t have any of those seafaring Great Explorers in our history. No Marco Polo, no Ferdinand Magellan, no Vasco da Gama, no Christopher Columbus, no Sir Francis Drake … no plundering, no spices, no gold. No pirates. Not enough beach holidays. In history lessons we learnt about the land reforms of Joseph II and the grammar reforms of Josef Dobrovský. You’d be hard pressed to come up with anything less inspiring for a child’s mind.

In geography, we kept on learning about this one little country, which towns have pig farms and how many motorways there are. Unrolling the same map every week. Inside, I felt like screaming, “Just show me the WHOLE map! The whole WORLD, please! Tell me about riding camels with the Touareq in Tombouctou. Tell me what it feels like to canoe in the Amazon among piranhas. Tell me something about that funny place on the bottom side of the globe called Tierra del Fuego. Do people live there? What do they look like? Show me something I don’t know!” I wanted to go and explore and they wouldn’t let me.

But now I’m an adult and I can, and it feels awesome.

What’s in your bag?

2011-03-08T13:36:00.001Z

Alice from Quaint Living inspired me to do a “what’s in your bag” post today. I’m a typical woman in this respect – many, many things are needed just in case.

Here’s what I carry with me on a normal day of lectures:
- My Toshiba Satellite R630 laptop; 13.3inch and only 1.5kg so less back pain.
- Cheap laptop sleeve from eBay with flowers on it. Laptop sleeves in the shops are stupidly expensive.
- Pencil case with pens, pencils, highlighters, rubber, pencil sharpener, USB stick, headphones, … I could do a separate blog post about the pencil case alone. I got started on these cheap transparent pencil cases in high school, where they were the only thing allowed for exams. And they are the best. I like transparent umbrellas too. Thumbs up for clarity.
- Black compact mirror with a picture of red lips on it -- one of my best xmas presents this year.
- Kleenex.
- My Samsung CorbyTXT phone because it has a keyboard and my texting would be so slow without it that I just wouldn’t bother replying.
- Little clip purse from Accessorize with a ribbon on it; contains pain killers and tampons because, hey, a girl’s gotta be prepared + I never remember when my periods are. I bought this purse in an airport once because I needed something that would fit into a small clutch bag.
- Stapler and hole punch to keep my notes in order.
- 2011 diary from W H Smith full of deadlines and ambitious to-do lists that never get done.
- Student card for access to the labs and importantly for Student Discounts.
- Calculator because I’m taking a couple of mathsy courses this term. (Ewww!)
- Little plastic container full of tea bags because they have free hot water in our library and because I can’t live without tea.
- Pink “random cats” purse from Next. My old purse got stolen in the lab. It was pink too. Our labs are full of boys. What boy steals pink purses, hmm?
- Keys with a teddy bear key ring my mum gave me; makes it much easier to find my keys among all those things!
- Pukka Pad Project Book with my timetable stuck to the front and a separate section for each of my courses. It’s just sooo pukka!
- A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini for reading on the Tube. I used to read hardcore textbooks like Cryptography Engineering and Working Effectively with Legacy Code on the Tube and people would give me funny looks like “OMG, she must be so smart!” but lately I’ve been giving myself an easy time.
- Water bottle. I never leave the house without water after an unfortunate incident which involved me fainting in a shopping centre a few years ago. Water is da shit.

The bag is a laptop bag by Ollie & Nic. It’s great, although I do struggle to fit everything in sometimes, but you have do draw the life somewhere … where bag ends and the rest of the world begins.

Untethered

2011-02-24T21:23:00.001Z

This week, our university is holding an Artsfest. I contributed in a small way by helping out with the joint exhibition of Photosoc and Leosoc (which stands for Leonardo Society – i.e. it’s an art society). The title of the exhibition is “Untethered” and it features about 2,000 origami birds suspended in the air. The birds are made from original photographs and artwork by members of the aforementioned societies. So … I helped make some of these birds. Not too many, but I helped.

It was fun. We had a bird party with pizza, drinks, movies and origami-making. When the host suggested we watch King Kong – The Extended Edition, I thought he was bloody joking. I had not-so-pleasant memories of watching King Kong in the cinema with my parents as a kid. I was bloody bored and kept walking about and moaning to my parents in a way roughly equivalent to “Are we there yet?” King Kong was already such a slooooooooow movie, so why why why would anyone want to treat themselves to Extended Edition? Funnily enough, it turned out to be the perfect backdrop to hours and hours and hours of origami making. I didn’t even know how to make origami birds before coming to this party, but I learnt.

Results below! The real thing can be seen in Blyth Gallery, Level 5 in Sherfield Building at Imperial College. (Hurry! I think it’s only open till 25th Feb.)

These rubbish photos were taken with my phone. Sorry for the poor quality.

Shall we have a baby???

2011-02-15T11:52:00.001Z

Despite the peer pressure from all over the blogosphere, I successfully avoided doing The Valentine’s Day post yesterday. Because, really, do you want to hear my single-woman whining? You do? Well, I always get Valentine’s presents from the wrong men. Pretty much every year, I get something colourful in the post and my heartbeat goes racing and I get all excited and then … I read the person’s signature. But hey, free chocolate.

Yesterday, I celebrated Valentine’s Day in my own indulgent single way. Romantic dinner at Burger King followed by 14 hours of luxury sleep. But just so you don’t say I didn’t give you any loving this year, my dear readers, here’s a silly love song for you.

Shall we have a baby?

Charlie Straight is an up-and-coming Czech band. In 2010, they won three Czech Grammy awards. I’m not a massive fan or anything, but the teenagers love them and they come from my town, baby! Same high school and all.

P.S. Doesn’t that song remind you of Kate Nash?

P.P.S. As for myself, we shall definitely not have a baby today. We shall remain single and use condoms furiously. Because we’re young and life is too much fun.

Kung Hei Fat Panda

2011-02-08T01:08:00.001Z

On Sunday I headed down to Trafalgar Square for the Chinese New Year celebrations. It’s become a tradition for me now. This year was the third time I attended. It’s in February, so the weather is usually a bit poo and there are huge crowds of people, but I love the dances and the colourful costumes. It’s always a great opportunity for photos, as long as you have a decent telephoto lens.

2011 is supposed to be the year of the rabbit, but judging by the theme of this year’s Trafalgar Square celebrations you would think it’s the year of the Kung Fu Panda. They really went OTT with the sponsorship activities, to the point where it was getting annoying.

On the plus side, I got a free fortune cookie from the Kung Fu Panda people. It said, “A half-solved problem will be fully resolved next month.” Now I’m scratching my head trying to figure out which one of my problems is half solved. Love? Work? Exams? Family? Finances? Something completely different?

the parlour @ Canary Wharf

2011-02-01T10:45:00.001Z

After that Ice Sculpture festival I wrote about earlier, we were all feeling a bit chilly. To our rescue came the parlour and their hot chocolate. I can’t vouch for their food, since we didn’t eat there… and of course, since this is Canary Wharf, it was a tad bit overpriced. But I loved, loved, loved the decor. What a perfect place to end a photographic expedition!

Sunday Bloody Sunday

2011-01-23T12:48:00.001Z

Actually, I love Sundays. I love that the Sunday Times comes with enough supplements to last me the whole week.

Václav Havel wrote a wonderful piece on his moods in Letters to Olga. One of them was the Sunday Melancholy Mood (I think). I need to look it up … the Internet is of no use. I first read that book during Fresher’s Week in my first year as an undergraduate, some seven years ago. Havel was in prison, and I was reading about it in my Halls of Residence. Pretty fucking depressing.

Remember when I used to do the mid-week photo series? Maybe I should start doing that again.

I want to go to the Museum of Everything in Primrose Hill. I have no idea what they display, but it sounds like fun.

And those are just my random thoughts on Sunday.

… Coronet Cinema. So pretty!

2011-01-22T10:22:00.001Z

When my friends suggested going all the way to Notting Hill to see a movie, I wasn’t too excited. See, it’s on the wrong Tube line. I do District Line, I do Piccadilly Line, but I don’t do Central Line. Too many bloody changes. But it was Friday night and I decided to stop being a grumpy old woman and just go out.

Now, the first lovely surprise about the Coronet Cinema was the price. We had £3.50 vouchers – for Friday night! I’m used to dishing out £10 at my nearest nondescript Odeons and Vues.

I was intrigued.
“What’s the story with these vouchers?” I asked my friend G.
“What?”
“Where did you get those vouchers for the cinema?”
“Aaaaaah, the vu-sher?” he replied in his cute accent, “Sorry, I only heard it from French people before. I thought it was vu-sher.”
“It’s voucher,” I giggled.
“You just go to the Kensington Temple and you tell them you are from the parish and they give you the vouchers.”
“But we’re not from the parish.”
“I know,” he shrugged.
”You lied in the Temple?” I raised my eyebrows half in shock.
“Yes,” he giggled.
“But why does the Temple give out cinema vouchers?”
“They have them for people who help out in the office …”
“WHAT? We don’t help there! We don’t even go … YOU ARE BAAAAD!!!”

Thou shalt not steal. Hmm … I’ve never been a church-goer and I would never walk into a temple just to abuse their generosity … but hey, it wasn’t me. It was my friends. Their karma.

Now, the second surprise about the Coronet Cinema: so pretty inside! I normally just go to the nearest multiplex without thinking about it, but this was a proper old-fashioned theatre with red velvet and those fancy plaster-work pillars. My camera-phone photos do it no justice.

The King’s Speech is a good movie, although I found it almost painful to watch the poor King struggle with his speech so much.

And then there were drinks. Good night.

I think the arctic will suit us well … (Ice Sculpture Festival @ Canary Wharf)

2011-01-15T18:24:00.001Z

This weekend, Canary Wharf hosted a small ice sculpture festival. Of course, I went there with a head full of images of those massive ice sculptures they do in Harbin, only to feel thoroughly underwhelmed … Firstly, the sculptures were, of course, much smaller. Secondly, it was too warm and everything was melting. I was wishing I had brought a pair of wellies; there were puddles everywhere! No, I was wearing my very old Converse trainers which are all falling apart and therefore not really suited for walking in water … (I love them too much to throw them away.) But still, I had a nice afternoon taking pictures and socializing with people from my university’s photographic society.

Wishing you all a nice weekend too …

Also, this is the perfect time to share one of my favourite songs: Ice Hotel by Stacey Kent

Ice Hotel. What other place could serve our needs so well?