Madrid - life in transit

So, by the time this is posted I won´t actually be in Madrid anymore, but in the arms of my wonderful Frenchman as we begin our Christmas season. But, I felt I needed to start this post now, to show you that I was vaguely athinking of my blog throughout my (fairly hectic) travels, and to start talking about this immense whirlwind of progress I am in right now, it's going to take a fair few posts to come up to speed with.

The view from my work on my last day. Sorry for the window glare, I wasn't allowed to open the window.

Friday the 17th of December was my last day at work. It was alright, I spent the morning packing, got my (full) deposit back (by some miracle) and toddled off to work at about midday. Before this though, I had an interesting moment at the Post Office: See, my two 35kg boxes had been taken away for shipping on Tuesday the 14th of December, and I was in desperate, desperate need of some extra space. So, I cleverly packed my remaining 3kg or so very tightly into a box to send off to Australia, get to the post office only to be told that sending 3kg in a small boxwas going to cost me £60. Err? I have posted 1.2kg before only for it to cost me £12. The answer? Turns out once a parcel sent from the UK passes a 2kg threshold it practically trebles in price. So, I went home, divided it into two and ended up paying less than half of £60 for it. So, fellow antipodeans and anyone else thinking of spending some time in the United Kingdom - keep your parcels to no more than 2kg.

Anyway at 4am on the 18th of December I left my house, and, with immense amounts of luggage in tow, skidded over ice to the bus stop to catch the bus to Stansted. This was one of the most heartbreaking trips of my life. The bus went past old clubs and pubs I used to haunt with my friends, past Brick Lane, past my home, past the turn off to some of my friends, a life I now only have access to in memory.

The arrival at the airport was smooth enough. I was early, so had a cup of tea at the 24 hour Costas and began plotting ideas for my post. Then came time for check-in, then came a crazy wait at the boarding gate. At the time we were meant to take off Ryanair finally let us on board, but first (due to stingy hand luggage regulations) made me force my bag into a cage to check the measurements were right, this killed my poor little computer. And, naturally, once we were all in the plane, the attendants told us that Spain wouldn't let us take off for another two hours. Ugh, I tell you, this was not a pleasant experience.

In the end I wound up in Madrid safe and sound, only 2 hours late to meet my friend Jose, who I was staying with. Spain is wonderful, I can't believe I had spent so long without getting there. My biggest issue though was that I was sick, and the Spanish are fans of smoking and 2am is an early bedtime. Needless to say, my cough suffered, but large amounts of empanadas helped to fix this.

Some Spanish friends at a tapas bar in central Madrid.

Spain consisted of a lot of sightseeing, but in my favourite way, find a local, and have them take you wherever they like. This way you don't feel like too much of a tourist, you integrate better and you have your own personal translator. Highly recommended.

I arrived, sleep deprived but fulfilled in Toulouse (again, 2 hours late) on the 21st of December (greeted with beautiful yellow tulips and my boyfriend,  might I add). And since then, the cold has weakened and I have thoroughly enjoyed every moment in France. I feel fine about leaving London for the most part, maybe because I am still experiencing a wonderful European festive period, but every now and then, I see a photo of my old room, or my wonderful, wonderful, friends in London, and it does hurt. But in such a situation there is no point in trying to change the way your life is unfolding. Change is best when embraced, so, I guess I will.

Writing my own goodbye from my bedroom window.

So, that's where I am. I suppose from now, to prevent my posts from becoming too much like a diary, I will dwell on memories and continue my posts on London so I can give you as much information as possible. If you have any pressing questions, feel free to get in contact. I hope you had a pleasant Christmas and wish you all a Happy New Year.

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P.S: I would also like to add tihat the two boxes I had sent back to Australia by sea has so far cost me £170, and will most likely go up upon entry into the sunburnt country. I will keep you posted.

365 Days of Bliss

Today is our one year anniversary. I don't usually get too mushy (do I?), but moments like these warm my heart, which is desperately needed when your 'anniversary celebration' consists of an eggnog latte and a Skype conversation. Anyway, you can see why I chose this video ;) here's to many more years of happiness to come. Enjoy.

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The final countdown

Today, is my second-last Monday at work, which is actually monumentally scary. I've been relying on this income for so long, aside from that though, the stability of having a job is actually quite nice, last week my firm passed around an email asking if anyone wanted to volunteer redundancy, I feel very lucky for what I have. I've forged strong relationships and enjoyed (most of) my time here. But, the tickets are booked, the bags are half-packed (can you believe it? I'm somewhat organised!) and I am still planning on getting home to the motherland next month, frog in tow. Scary stuff.

I am unhappy to admit that this weekend hasn't been the most productive - I have been bowled over by a sickness. The worst part, is that I *can* function, I feel... ok. But as soon as I'm out in the elements, I cough worse than a pack-a-day smoker (as a non-smoker, that's weird and yuck), my nose runs, my throat seizes up and only hot liquid fixes it. So, going out at night has been out of the question and I hate myself for it. But I did get out in the daytime, and saw some beautiful things.

The lake in St. James park had frozen over, this is the view toward Buckingham Palace

It seems I was not the only one getting ready to go in to hibernation, the squirrels are getting chubby and even cuter than normal. An added benefit (for evil photographers like myself) is their overwhelming curiosity (or is it gluttony?)

Oooohh! Is it a chestnut pour moi?

I also took a walk around Euston and St. Pancras, now, I know it looks like I've been a big liar about my inability to be out at night - but this next photo, I kid you not it was about 16.30, and not long after I walked into a Chinese takeaway (oh the shame, sitting in a chinese takeaway alone!) and begged for Won ton soup. Thankyou, ginger and chicken stock, you saved my throat from ultimate peril!

St. Pancras - worth the runny nose

Tomorrow I get to meet up with an old friend from Australia who is here for the Christmas season, I can't wait. Seeing an old friend is always fabulous, and we are going to go and see the Christmas lights and festivities around Hyde Park (photos promised, as always), which just makes it even better. Aside from that, my main plans are to visit galleries, shop till I drop (which I worry about slightly, I'm not a good shopper), indulge and do all the things I won't be able to to in Australia. Above all though, I need to be healthy for next weekend (my going away party!), so lots of broths and early nights for me!

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I never got time to post about my last trip to Paris (26 - 29 November). Let me tell you it was lovely, mindblowingly so. I got to see my family (or some of the extended clan, at least) and finally physically introduce mon amour to them (he got raving reviews of course, he's the perfect gentleman *swoons*). We took a walk through St. Germain en-Laye (lots of frost, but only a teeny bit of snow). Visited Christmas markets, feasted with le copain's family (who sent me home with hand-picked porcini mushrooms from a nearby forest, could I be any more spoilt?) All in all, fantastic.



Christmas lights & market on the Champs Élysées



And now, just 15 days until I fly from Madrid to join le copain in Toulouse for Christmas. This 3 week break is the longest we've had since we've met, and it covers our anniversary. Now, there, my friend, is where romance went. I don't really mind though, we both have way too much to do as it stands.

The miss list (1)

Things I will miss terribly:

• Snow (yes - I'm un-coordinated and slip everywhere, but it's gorgeous)
• The atmosphere at Christmas (lights, mulled wine, christmas markets)
• Taking the Eurostar every second weekend (or at least having the opportunity to do so)
• Portobello Road
• Koko
• The Florist Arms
• Shoreditch
• Brick Lane markets
• London Fields
• Anonymity
• The tube
• *real* East End Bagels
• My room (for its location, space, and view)
• Automatic tax returns
• Lovely rainy days when you can stay inside and cuddle.
• Eating cupcakes on an autumn day from my room, with the windows open, watching the commoners below.

Things I will not miss much (if at all):

• Londoners (on a bad day)
• Sheer droves of pigeons.
• Nights when it is so unbearably cold you can't sleep despite being in woollen pj's and under two duvets.
• The word 'duvet'.
• 'Planned Engineering Works' on the tube
• Dodgy Landlords (here's to hoping I don't get landed with them in Australa)
• The sun setting at 16:00 in Winter
• Primark
• My room (for the fire, flood, and 24 hour power cut)
• The criminal, criminal amount of fast food. There is a fry-up 'caff' every 20 metres!
• Paying £3 for a small, burnt, weak coffee.

My room is very dark and cold. I have to sleep in two pairs of pants and a beanie and my heater still doesn't work (36 hours now). Grrrrrrump.

I will report more fluidly soon, promise. The Christmas lights are up in Bethnal Green!

'Tis the season

Today is a beautiful Winter's day in London, freezing & foggy, sure, but nothing to ruin the mood. This post sort of draws from my last one, what London does when it gets cold. Well, it's mid-November, Christmas is on a fast approach, the lights are up, London becomes totally charming.

I had a terrible day last Friday, work was hectic, everyone was rude, and (worst of all) I found out that a very good friend's mother has passed way the week before, as I live on the other side of the world - the news didn't reach me very fast, and I felt awful. Instead of going home, cooking myself something sweet and wallowing in self pity, I put on my scarf and ran back out. Oh, what an idea.

I took the tube to Marble Arch as I had been avoiding a trip to Primark (I am not a good  shopper, I find it boring, stressful and exhausting and thus Primark is the epitome of evil). Just look - SO MANY PEOPLE

Wall to wall people shopping for a bargain. My idea of hell. 

Anyway, I hurriedly bought my necessities and vacated Primark with all due speed, and, still feeling pretty awful, walked down Oxford street.

Oxford St - Suddenly I felt much, much better.

Uplifted, I then walked down to Trafalgar Square and entered the National Gallery shop. I had done this last year and cannot recommend it enough. On the last two weekends of November (or thereabouts) the shop is open late, and serves free mulled wine and mince pies. Everything is fairly expensive, but the atmosphere is just wonderful. Last year I slipped out as soon as I had finished the pie (I'm a girl who thinks with my stomach and my wallet!), this time I stayed and bought some Christmas cards and a gift for my grandmother and my aunt and uncle (who are on holiday in France, and whom I get to meet in Paris next weekend!). I think they'll enjoy it.


London is magical on the approach to Christmas, now all we need is a little bit of snow. I will post a list of other things to do in the festive season soon - but the Christmas lights aren't up in Bethnal Green yet, and that, to me, signifies the *real* festive season beginning. In the meantime, enjoy some pictures.

Regent St.

Selfridges

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And now, well, it's official. Cyril and I have booked our tickets to Australia. We leave Paris in mid January, have a few days exploring Malaysia and Singapore in an effort to beat the jetlag, and then arrive in Brisbane one certain Wednesday evening. What a way to start a new chapter of my life.

Bit chilly, innit?

To all of you who have not braved any climate other than Australia (or somewhere else that is constantly warm) before. Let this be a warning:

London. Is. Cold.

When I first arrived (in the Summer, might I add), I was surviving quite well wearing just shorts, a light cardigan, a t-shirt & flip flops (havianas, or thin sandal-type shoes), this (minus the light cardigan) is normal wear where I come from for about 90% of the year, and as a result, I was simply not used to 'wrapping up'. Lucky for me, 2009 was a relatively warm year - but in mid November, where the temperatures dropped rapidly, the heavens opened, and people started to pile on layers - I was *still* slipping around in shorts, a light cardigan, a t-shirt & flip flops.

For the first week or so, that's funny, Europeans smile at you fondly and look as though they want to give you a pat on the head for being 'the cute silly Australian who doesn't understand cold'. I did understand, it was freezing. But I couldn't contemplate wearing anything else! Gloves and scarves felt restrictive and foreign, coats made me look fat, this was fashion suicide!

By the beginning of December I had given in a bit, and invested in a coat & stockings, 1 scarf and some cheap plimsolls. I put off buying boots and gloves until it snowed. I had my heater on most of the time (sorry Earth & landlords) and played a new favourite game 'summer' (where you lie around inside wearing summer clothes and pretending it's warm outside too). By doing this, I avoided dying of exposure to the cold, but eventually, the consequences still caught me. One cold, January morning, I awoke to find a few red, pox-like spots on my neck, arms, stomach. A friend (on holiday from Australia) was staying with me, and when she surveyed them she assumed I had chicken pox (a second batch). But considering she showed no symptoms, I thought it best to drag my sorry, freezing self to the doctor and get a real diagnosis.

The result? Put simply: I did not protect my virgin Australian skin from the cold well enough, and so, it had begun to eat itself.

Looking back I can laugh, but these spots were unsightly and itchy as hell. I had to take allergy tablets to stop the itching, use a special soap to stop the swelling, and go on steroids to kill the infection. It went, and all was well within about a fortnight, but let this be a warning to you. I have compiled a list of things you NEED in winter in London. Do as I say, not as I did!

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Survival list for new Londoners

• Coats
• Thermal underwear, vests, pj's
• 100 Denier stockings
• Scarves
• Gloves (I had particular issues wearing gloves, please, forget any hangups!)
• Boots (fur lined inner, leather outer is best, but I survived on cheap £20 synthetic ones for most of winter)
• Beanies/Berets/something warm for the head
• Shoes with good grip (Ice is a slippery bastard)

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Keep warm. Have the heater on full blast, experience mulled wine (oh, yum). Do whatever makes you feel comfortable, because when you go out (and to experience London, you need to go out), you won't be comfortable. Also take the cold weather as a good reason to visit the art galleries, museums & shops, they'll all have heating on full blast and make it all a little more bearable. I reccomend heading to Covent Garden for shopping, and to the National Portrait gallery, I could spend all day in there.

Above all though (and contrary to the vibe of this post), don't panic, and enjoy the refreshing cold. London can't deal with high temperatures (they know no such thing as ventilation) and you'll be wishing it was sub zero degrees come July.

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Aside from this, I have been focusing on some of my favourite London views recently. Average daily temperatures are at about 9.C here are the moment, and the sun begins to rise at about 6.50am and sets at about 4.45pm (more or less my working day). This means SAD disorder is affecting us all a little, but it also means I am at work as the sun rises, and  I am spoilt with this view:

Sunrise as seen from EC1V 1NY

In Europe, the light & atmosphere is completely different to that in Australia. In Australia, I remember the light as harsh, warm and omnipresent. European light is soft, subtle, and borders on melancholy, this makes for beautiful, slightly austere photographs that simply ooze a cold, dark day. A week or so ago I took a walk down a freezing, deserted Portobello Road (a favourite thing of mine to do, as you may know from this post) and took a picture that serves as a pretty good example:

A quiet Portobello Road

I am off to Paris this weekend again, and the weather looks to be awful. I'm taking my own advice and putting coats, stockings and boots in my luggage, and planning to stay indoors most of the time (le copain and I have shopping and church-visiting on the cards, possibly the cinema too). A bientôt!

Speed limit on high speed

So, I didn't write to you in Paris. I apologize. I was busy seeing this:

Parc de st. Cloud

It was a long weekend in Paris, so I had the opportunity to experience what the Parisians do on their days off. It would seem the answer is simply, much the same thing as they do on normal weekends. Leave the city, stay in bed, or somehow, magically disappear. Where I stay on my trips to Paris (in the far West of the city), virtually everything shuts, or at best, is open until 1pm. A note to those of you who (like my boyfriend and I) never have anything in the fridge and heartily enjoy eating. Stock up.

The weekend was not particularly eventful, it seems the Parisians (or at least the ones I knew) were not even remotely interested in Hallowe'en, and so, another year goes by without me celebrating it. Oh well, I don't know what I'm missing (all my past Hallowe'ens have consisted of baby sitting or sleeping), and, I got to spend quiet time with le copain, which I could hardly count as a compromise!

After a quiet night in on Friday, Cyril and I trawled the streets on Saturday for Brocantes (little antique markets). We found a few and the artefacts were just fabulous. If it hadn't been so inconvenient, I would have bought myself one of the giant oriental armoire's and a chair, (I have a *thing* for antique chairs, and there were so many!) but to take those back to London and then Australia would have just been insane. We strolled the streets, shared a baguette and felt very Parisian.

Cyril and I attended the Salon du Chocolat in Place de Versailles, 16éme on Sunday. This is why I love the French, while Australian expo's tend to be about showbags, animals or university, Paris holds one about Chocolat. We overdosed on degustations and bought some amazing pralines and macaroons that didn't last the night, who could say no?!

This past long weekend saw us do a mix of the old and the new. The weekend was cold but dry, so we did a fair bit of exploring the city after a morning walk through Parc de St. Cloud. Thanks to a tip off from Peter's Paris, we decided to use the Monday to find some signs of life in more downtown Paris. It was more alive downtown, but still empty enough to allow us to see this:

Bouillon Racine - St. Germain des Pres, Paris.

It was only serving tea & coffee and as a result it was almost totally empty, which allowed us to take in the full (and amazing) view. If you're ever in town, it's very romantic and comes highly recommended.

Then, alas, it was time to take the train home. This is just the worst moment imaginable, leaving someone I adore (and it's me doing the leaving, I manage to hold it together if le copain leaves London). I checked in, went through interrogation immigration and waited for my train to board. As we set off for London, I hear 'unfortunately, there is a speed limit on the high speed line, we will be at least half an hour late in to London  St. Pancras.'

Wow, thanks for that one. On the brightside I had a good connection with tubes and wasn't too late for bed. I am, of course, absolutely desperate for the next week to go by so that I can be back in Paris with mon amour. I only have two more trips to Paris before I quit my job and go to live with Cyril in France, before making our trip to Australia. On that note - Cyril has finally had a breakthrough! Not one, but TWO companies have registered interest in his CV. There is no interview as yet, but Cyril has some questions to answer and some references to provide, it's all positive so far and we're very excited - keep your fingers crossed!

Take that, fate



16/12/2009 - our first 'real' date - my horoscope told me I was bound to be a lonely bitch for eternity.


Due to fate, a planning error or possibly just Cyril and I being selfish, only a few days after le copain left London, I am boarding the 17.30 Eurostar to Paris this Friday to spend a long weekend with him. I feel so spoilt it's unbelievable, I just wish my bank account felt the same way!

This weekend marks Hallowe'en as well as my parents 17th anniversary (cool parents huh? married on Hallowe'en!) so the mood is going to be fabulous. Anyway, I will write more about Paris while/after it happens. Today I want to talk to you about our last weekend!

On Friday night at about 19.40 my lovely boyfriend arrived at St. Pancras (which in itself is a landmark, you must simply see for yourself!) and was in my arms. We went home and had a quiet night with home cooked risotto and Guillermo del Toro film Cronos. Bit creepy, not that I expected anything less. The rest of the weekend, I promise you, was more exciting.

On Saturday morning we awoke early and headed to Vapiano on Great Portland street (Nearest tube: Oxford Circus) to meet an old friend of Cyril's from his university. Vapiano, I highly recommend for first dates or cheap parties. It's a (very chic) canteen-style layout, the food is fresh (it's cooked in front of you!) and simple Italian and the best part? It's fairly cheap and you have your account billed on separate chip cards, so no quarrels over the bill. Lunch was lovely and very filling, and after bidding goodbye to Cyril's friend, we hopped on the DLR to Greenwich. Oh, Greenwich.

Need I say more?

I have a sick confession to make. Up until last weekend, I had never visited Greenwich. There are a few reasons for this, the main one being I passed it off for a museum and a line on top of a hill. While there is a line and a museum and they are on a hill, I should never have overlooked this view. We arrived at about 15.30 and, to dodge a rain spell entered the museum, which is free and not as boring as I imagined. Then, after a quick look at the meridian line, just lost ourselves to the view. Highly recommended.

After a tumble down the hill, we spent a little while looking around Greenwich itself. The cold, however, was creeping in and we had to escape back on to the DLR. We happened to discover Oliver's jazz bar at 9 Nevada street. A tiny, 'blink and you'll miss it' kind of place (in fact, all you can see is a small door with a 9 on it, the rest of the pub is down some stairs) it has live jazz bands play most nights at about 21.00. Impressive stuff, I wish we hadn't been there so early (a note: we arrived at about 17.45 and it was completely empty).

After a quiet Saturday night (inside to avoid the rain) we awoke on Sunday to strangely lovely (but cold) weather. We went to Soho to buy cupcakes before going to Bloomsbury festival. Bloomsbury is an affluent area stretched between Holborn and Kings Cross, the epicentre being Russell Square. As soon as we arrived  we were charmed by exhibitions, craft stalls, book shops, gourmet food & live music. London has many of these mini-festivals and I  can't tell you how 'worth it' they are. After a grinding week at work, Londoners really know how to chill out.

And so ended a lovely weekend. In conclusion, I can't recommend Greenwich enough. I shall report from Paris!

London sparkles

The view from my room. I am going to miss this more than words can say.

This week, one of my co-workers has left on holidays (To Mexico no less) *jealous grumble*. As none of us (the co-workers) can take over the position, we hired a temp. Temps can be a good or a bad thing, as 1/2 the time you get a complete ignoramus who should actually be slapped for their idiocy, and the other half the time, you get people you fall a bit in love with. Lucky for me, this week it's the latter.

Leila is a young woman (nearing 30, I don't know if I can call her 'young' when I'm only just 20) from the US. Unfortunately, I admit that I subscribe to the stereotypical belief that Americans are arrogant rednecks who don't belong on the planet (prove me wrong, I beg of you!), but this woman is fabulous. Sweet, charming, funny, she has that bubbly confidence that borders on annoying, and yet, is infectious. She's very new to London, and speaking with her has reminded me of all the wonders London has to offer a newcomer, how fabulous and interesting every single experience was. I hate to admit it, but I think I nearly forgot about that. And so, here are some of my favourite moments in London, things that are out-of-this-world special to me, though I can't say I'll always be able to explain why.

1. London Fields & Broadway market on a warm day

Broadway market is a small set of stalls that sell mainly gourmet food and retro clothes, (like every other market in London). Come armed with £15. Buy a cider from the off license, then browse the stalls for your brunch, take it to neighbouring London Fields, sit with friends, eat, relax, play ball. There is something so therapeutic about this, despite the fact that everyone else is out to do exactly the same thing. There is a Lido (public pool) should you miss swimming, and disposable barbecues from Sainsbury's are also common choices for picnic-ers wanting a cheaper, more interactive affair. London Fields also becomes home to little 'mini Festivals' fairly often, live music, craft stalls, cupcakes, it just makes the opportunity to indulge all the more perfect.


2. Notting Hill, when it's freezing.

Ok, ok, I admit. This gets automatic inclusion because it signifies the real (1) beginning of my relationship with mon amour. We met, had a quick coffee in a shop that hands out your horoscope (the 12th house, my horoscope was awful - will post later), a walk down a bizarrely empty Portobello Road (it was -3.C and a weekday around 5pm, if you want to avoid crowds follow suit!). Portobello Road and Notting Hill in general is absurdly beautiful at any time of day or year, but when it's quiet and empty you can identify with it a little easier, it's the charm that hits you rather than how crowded it is. Due to pure hype, why not stop at The Hummingbird Bakery and get yourself a lovely but calorific cupcake? I can also recommend dinner at The First Floor Restaurant on Portobello road if you're feeling like splurging on an amazing, heavy meal. Other than that, Notting Hill boasts antiques, art, and the ever-fabulous (particularly if you fancy yourself a bit of an art-nerd like me) Electric Cinema.


3. Primrose Hill

It's not one of London's most exclusive addresses for no reason. Strategically located to epic market and fabulous nightlife in Camden, Primrose Hill is more or less the Notting Hill of the North, maybe even classier. Regents Park road (which is your easiest route to Primrose Hill if you get off at Chalk Farm tube station and cross the bridge) is a wonderful street with upmarket patisseries and home ware shops. Not for the poor. Primrose Hill itself offers a gorgeous view over London, and is popular for picnics between friends and the wealthy to take their dogs and/or children.

The view from Primrose Hill

4. Regent's Canal

Regent's Canal connects Limehouse Basin in the East to Little Venice in the North/West. As I live nearby, I love to walk to Victoria Park, and run/jog/walk (generally walk) North from there. I am probably going to do this today in fact. The canal is full of barges (some beautiful, some desperately needing TLC), and the sidewalk is often occupied by the health nut running to work on weekdays. On the weekend, though, even the health nuts seem to be a little more relaxed, and you can take in the pretty views of the canal while you walk from, for example, Bethnal Green to Camden. If you have the time, it's lovely, and it beats taking the claustrophobic tube by a mile.

Regent's Canal

5. The Christmas lights in and around Oxford Circus

With the 'festive season' looming, so too is the dismal London weather. London however puts a good effort into ignoring this, covering the city (the hot spots being Tottenham Court Road to Marble Arch and down Regent Street to Piccadilly Circus) in beautiful Christmas lights. Try and avoid going on the first night if you are claustrophobic, the streets are so crowded they divert buses. But these are romantic and lovely and almost makes you forget that you can't feel anything below your knees.


I can't say that these are particularly unusual sights, but for newcomers I have to recommend them. Whenever I think of them, I feel happy and nostalgic and I'm sure they'll be some favourite memories of London that I can keep with me for the rest of my life.

It is a very cold morning in mid-October and winter is already making itself known. It is dark when I wake up and more or less dark when I come home from work. Being Australian, this was an incredibly hard thing to adjust to, and a very strong  urge to hibernate arises from within and is very hard to fight off. But, in an effort to make the most of my last months in this wonderful city - I am taking a leaf out of Leila's book:

In Winter, London might go dark - but it sparkles.

(1) - This was our first date after our incredibly un-romantic meeting. Maybe I will tell more later.

Expo: Australia

Last weekend, le copain was back in London. It was lovely to see him back in the city where we met, there is something very romantic and nostalgic about it all. But the trip wasn't entirely for pleasure, with 'operation Australia' weighing heavily on Cyril's mind, we forked out £30 for two entry tickets to a 'Work in Australia' expo, located in the Novotel, Hammersmith, W6.

Ultimately, the experience was good. Cyril is a chemical engineer and most of the stalls were civil engineering or health/nursing or hospitality related, but by luck there was one Environmental company there. We struck up conversation, they were lovely, enthusiastic, and asked for his CV, which is always a good sign. As we walked away I turned back to watch them scribbling excitedly all over his CV. Cross your fingers for us!

One of the less rewarding moments was lining up for 45 minutes to chat to the 'Visas & Immigration' stall. We had two things to talk about 1) being that Cyril doesn't have an IELTS qualification, would a TOEIC (1) count? 2) Cyril studied for 1 year at a recognised institution (2) but the rest wasn't - would there still be any chance of him getting a Recognised Graduate - (subclass 476) visa?

The answer from the woman? (and I quote)

I don't know.

Thanks, honey.

She then proceeded to say that she would answer these sorts of questions if we paid £95 for a consultation. But then she gave up the game, Cyril mentioned he was a graduating chemical engineer and was met with replies of 'wow! fantastic!' and so we left feeling fairly confident that a £95 consultation is pretty useless when we know we're eligible for more than one visa, and an official is calling our case 'fantastic'.

Ultimately, the day was entirely worth the £30. Cyril warmed up to the idea of alternative visas and grew more confident in the fact that he would find something (which in itself is priceless). We also got to hear fabulous (cringeworthy) Australian accents and (however selfish this is) feel somewhat superior to the people who had no idea of their way in to the sunburnt land.

The rest of the weekend went by in a blur, I had made infinite promises to bring Cyril out with my friends and in the end we watched a film (Lars and the real girl - super cute!) and slept in. I can't complain, sometimes it's nice to relax and forget the world a bit. Only 10 sleeps until he comes back, it's painful already!

Before I leave, can I just say, I really do not see the draw of Hammersmith, Cyril and I wandered around looking for something to catch our fancy and just could not do it. Am I missing something? Has my passion for the East End clouded my vision of the West? What on Earth are my fellow antipodeans thinking? (If you'd like to contest this, please do, I'm curious to know what I'm missing out on!)


(1) - TOEIC: A French test on the particpants' English language skill. Seemingly only any use in France.
(2) - A list of the institutions that Australia idolises and which are therefore an easy step into the country. The list can be found here.

The apocalypse at Room 10.

It is official. God, or.. whoever, is seeking revenge on my little room. As you may have read here, on the 20th of August, while I was on holiday, my block of flats caught fire. Lucky for me I was on the 3rd floor, the fire was on the 1st and nothing of mine was destroyed. You would figure, one minor catastrophe would be enough for my room, but, you'd be wrong.

Last Saturday, as I told you, I went out to celebrate multiple friends' birthdays. It was a lovely night, albeit in the centre of London where it will set you back easily £4 for beer, £7 for anything more spiffy (note: don't go out in the Centre) and will not have very good music. It was also raining torrentially. Still, I had my friends, it was fine. At 2am the plan was to head on to Fabric (dance Mecca in Farringdon), but I discovered it was £18 for entry. Sorry Fabric, I'm not an electro girl, I can't justify £18 for 3 hours (at best) of techno beats. (Plus, again, expensive drinks. I'm a £1.80 half-pint-of-cider girl myself).

Disappointed, I arrived home at 3am, clambered up my stairs and opened my door. The light didn't work.

Odd.

So, I assumed my light had blown, shrugged it off, took off my shoes. The floor was wet.

Still more odd.

I wasn't drunk enough to be hallucinating. So, in a panicked frenzy, it was off with the stockings, off with the coat and jumper, crawl on the floor. Sure enough, it was entirely saturated.

Sat on one mattress: saturated

Sat on a chair: saturated

Picked up my quilt: saturated

Sat on the other mattress: lets say, mildly moist.

Joy.

By some miracle, my computer, TV, heater, and passport were practically the only things unscathed. I slept on a semi dry corner of my semi dry mattress in some semi dry pajama's (how I avoided pneumonia, I do not know), and in the morning, surveyed the damage.

There had been 4 leaks in my room. Some big enough I could probably have stuck my fingernail in there. My landlords came up later to survey the damage, saw mine, shrugged, and walked out (surely after the fire you would think they would have tried a little harder re: tenant protection or insurance). Clearly no.

So as you can guess, these past 5 days I've been drying, scrubbing, chucking, vacuuming in a constant cycle trying to avoid damp, mould, musty smells, etc. To top it all off le copain arrives tomorrow, it is a bit of a stress.

The good part of this is, I can recommend to you good cleaning products should you trash *your* room!

• Firstly, a heater, on constantly, all day, all night, preferably a low heat. (Particularly useful for mattresses that have been transformed into sponges overnight).
• Carpet cleaner. Not just for obvious stains anymore, oh no. I sprayed it over stinky areas of my floor, rubbed it in, vacuumed it off, it cleaned deep down and helped me start to lift the intense smell of damp from my floor.
• Cross ventilation. Not good for the environment when you have the heater on, but I had no other choice. Fan one end, window other, heater in the middle. Let it do it's thing. Helps for drying out mattresses as well.
• Baking soda: sprinkle on floor, rub it in, leave overnight, vacuum up. Niiiice.
• Febreze, £1.25 from Sainsburys. I might take this down as I'm not 100% confident it does what it claims. According to the label, it's a wash for the fabrics you can't put in a machine (mattresses, carpetc, etc). Instead of just masking the odours it actually eliminates it. I have noticed an improvement, will let you know.
• A really smelly candle or incense (not a cure but hey, makes the crime slightly less obvious).

Now I feel like I'm a mother giving cleaning tips. *sigh* that's my life at present. The moral of this story though is - have a decent landlord! Ciao.

Note: I was raised by an Agnostic and an extreme Atheist - sorry if my mentioning of 'apocalypse' and 'God' was blasphemous and/or offensive to you, it's in my blood.

Birthday Parties and 'sometimes friends'

I don't know if everybody else experiences the same problem - but for me, everyone (myself included) is born between September and the beginning of October. It is just insane. In the past two days, 6 of my friends have had birthday's, I don't know where to go or who to see and it's driving me mad!

It got me to thinking about 'friends' and how the way I treat my friends has changed a lot since my move, since my relationship, and I'm not sure if it's a good or a bad thing. When I moved to London, I didn't know *anyone*. If there was a big problem, I had my grandfather's brothers and sisters who I could stay with, but they're hardly the sort of people I wanted to be with while I discovered London.

Let me start by saying it was no party at the beginning. The first week after my arrival in London was insane, desolate, bleak, loneliness (and I'm an independent person - I am sure that if you relied on your friends and family more than I do the pain would be unbearable). To feel wanted or even acknowledged, I did some things I regret, monstrously (I'm still not really keen on talking about that - maybe I will in a post later). Anyway, by pure luck I met a man, Jose. Jose is a wonderful Spaniard who took me under his wing and treated me as his little, Australian sister. Through him I made a modest, but lovely friend base and things have slowly progressed since then. Jose is back in Spain now, I miss him constantly, but it further illustrates the point I am about to make.

As much as I love each and every one of my friends here, and feel true affinities with some, I don't think we all consider each other 'constant friends' (if such a phrase exists). As an example, it was a friends' birthday on Thursday. She went to Brick Lane, happened to meet a few friends there, they had a lovely dinner, went home. I am a bit sad about this because, I would count her as my best friend, and I live 10 minutes walk from Brick Lane, but I never got a call. (In all honesty I'm not disappointed or jealous as I could be because I was talking to my boyfriend instead, which has become an almost daily necessity). I don't think it's because she dislikes me, my reasoning, however bitter-sweet, is simply thus;

London, like any city (but probably to a more extreme degree), is more or less, a nation of nomads. None of my friends are here to start a full life. They are here to study, to make money, to experience life for a while, but it will not become a permanent home for many at all. We have our families, friends, lovers (in some cases) in other parts of the world, and sooner or later, our time will run out and we will venture on (or back) to pastures new (or old). So, as much as we may grow to love our new-found friends, there is always the reminder in the back of your head saying 'yes, befriend them, but after 18 months you may never see them again.' It's a very sad truth. Perhaps if I had first befriended a born and bred Londoner things would be different.

The ultimate moral is, I can't recommend coming to London to make friends. By luck, or chance, or pure physics, you will find people to socialise with. But they may not compare to the ones you left back home. While I am going to miss the people I have met here immensely, I too, would probably not have called all my friends if I had met one or two of them in Brick Lane, it's simply not a big deal, you'll see them when you see them.

Anyway, I'm not going to dwell on the subject anymore, we are all going out tonight which I am sure will more than make up for it. In other news, le copain is in London next week, it's incredibly exciting. I have a lot more to say about him, but this post is long enough. Soon, I shall enlighten you!

A quick Bonjour!

Hello there loved ones and strangers (there's a sentence I never thought I would write). It is currently a cool (hmm, cold) Sunday morning in Paris, mon amour is busy getting ready (who said women were slower?) so I am *trying* to write you a quick blog entry. It's harder than expected though - the French keyboard is a nightmare!! Azerty. I ask you, why?!

So far the weekend has been lovely, but, unfortunatley, it's just a weekend. Friday - Sunday night is not enough time to spend with someone you love. However, the good news is that it's only temporary, we are organising to be back together (most likely in France) by mid-December, and then Australia in early January. I can't tell you how much I am dreaming of this moment.

Anyway - lets get down to the business of my first Parisian post. While I am (slowly) becoming Francophile I didn't always believe that Paris had as much to offer as it claimed to. In all honesty, I'm beginning to think I was wrong. Large, attractive monuments aside, it's not like London - which, as you integrate into the culture continues to charm you with it's markets, fields, clubs, and what not. For me, Paris was a bit.. 'Large monuments, museums, people that are just like Londoners but with a nicer language, amazing food'. Sweet, but it's not going to keep me keen forever. After all this, maybe I'm wrong. Here, is a list/details of things I can genuinely recommend you do in Paris (Eiffels and Louvre's aside, though I won't say that any of this is 'off the beaten track'). Any questions/comments - fire away. Pictures will follow - I just completely forgot about it today.

1. Canal St. Martin on a *sunny* day.

Cyril (le copain, I can't believe I've not mentioned that!) and I tried to be ultimate Parisians and head to Belleville (supposedly an up and coming arrondisement, we must have missed something), then take a leisurely walk along the canal. Don't. Take the Metro to somewhere like Jaurés or Republique and then walk leisurely like normal people. To top it off it rained a lot and was freezing, which kills the romance a bit when your shoes are waterlogged and your teeth are chattering. However, when the sun shone briefly, it was lovely and relaxing (and yes - it will recall the film Amelie for you - she skimmed stones from here).

2. Les Catacombes

Firstly, please don't go if you are (or suspect you may be) claustrophobic. I never thought I was but as you trundle deeper and deeper underground looking at skulls, the ground gets damp, you slide everywhere, the roof gets low - it can get pretty creepy (not so much because of the bones, rather the thick air, slight smell of decay and the vague feeling the walls are closing in). The bones themselves are in various states of ok to decay (woop! rhyme!) and it's not as scary as the ones in Rome for example, but personally I enjoyed it, it was interesting, pretty (in a gothic kind of way) and only costs €2 or so if you have student ID (mine was expired and Australian and they didn't bat an eyelid), I think it's €4 or so otherwise.

3. Le Mur des Je t'aime

Montmartre might just be one of my favourite areas of Paris. Steeped on the hilly 18th arrondisement, it has an old-fashioned charm. Take the Metro to Abbesses and Le Mur des Je T'aime should be in a park right in front of you. This sight only takes 10 minutes or so, but is a great stop for the lovers, and isn't too touristy (yet).

4. Parc de St. Cloud

Maybe I'm a bit biased on this one, because my boyfriends grandmother's house (where we stay most of the time) is strategically located to here (if you're staying in the very centre of Paris, or worse, the East, getting here might cause a few troubles - though it's a bearable walk from Boulogne - Pont de st. Cloud on Metro line 10). It's merely a park (for running primarily I suppose) but also has some lovely restaurants, a great view over Paris, and lots of nice little hideaways to discover. There used to be a Château on site but it was burnt down in 1870 (for memory, it was those bloody Prussians). If you've got a day to spare and don't want something too strenuous, you can let your troubles melt away here. I would also recommend Jardin du Luxmbourg in the centre or Parc Floral (near Vicennes, you could also take a quick trip to the Château there) in the East, just relax, the French are good at this.

5. Travel to outer Paris

I'm not sure if I can technically call St. Germain en-Laye 'outer Paris' (sorry), but it's a gorgeous town easily reachable by RER line A that I can really recommend visiting. When my family and I first ever went to Paris we stayed in a tiny little studio apartment here, it was lovely. Everything looks like it comes straight out of a picture book, there is a lovely little castle and lots of forests to explore not too far away. I also recommend St. Cloud in the West of Paris. Again, this may be primarily because I get to spend a fair bit of time here, but it feels like it's own little village that just happens to cling on to Paris. It also has frescoes of fake windows/people on some of the buildings. Why not have a look?

6. Have wine/coffee/tapas around Etienne Marcel

 If Montmarte isn't my favourite Parisian area, Etienne Marcel (well, that's the Metro stop, I suppose it borders on the Marais? 2nd arrondisement?) may well be. It has a very cosmopolitan atmosphere, take a walk down Rue Montorgueil, my personal pick of bar/café is (currently) Drôle d'Endroit Pour Une Rencontre (meaning something like 'fancy meeting you here').

7. Brunch in Montmartre

This is what Cyril and I have planned for today, as a matter of fact. Taking the Metro to Abesses and brunching at Le Sancerre, on Rue des Abesses. It charges €15 (not including a drink) for a brunch. But oh lord do they take brunch seriously. Start with eggs Benedict on toast, a piece of bacon, mini sausages, move on to a tomato, Mozzarella and lettuce salad with vinigarette, then fromage blanc with rasberry coulis, a fruit salad, 1/2 a chocolate muffin, a donut, a mini croissant (plus slices of baguette should you not be stuffed to bursting already). Gosh! I can't be sure that this is the best place for brunch in Montmartre, (they will forget your water and they will insist you wait 30 minutes before they grace you with their presence to hand you l'addition, a further 20 minutes for them to locate the Visa machine), but it's still a thoroughly enjoyable way to begin a lazy Sunday.

So - that's about it from me. Before I go, I would just like to share this with you. The day before I went to Paris I excitedly facebooked 'Eurostar' to tell them how excited I was that they were taking me to see my lovely boyfriend. I was hoping for some 'aww's', but I was not expecting this!

And I thought it was a fairly innocent post!

Source: http://www.facebook.com/#!/eurostar?ref=ts

(Edit: Unfortunately I had to give up and write most of this on Monday morning back in similarly freezing London - but the idea was there!)

More ups and downs

Ah, hello, hello again. I don't know where to begin on this one, my mind is a muddled mess unsure of whether to feel elation, worry, sickness or stress. A mixture of the four is almost a worse fate. The most important part is that, in three sleeps, I get to be back in my boyfriends' arms again. Oh yes - 16.55 Friday sees me on a  Eurostar voyage to lovely Paris, to be with my lovely boyfriend for the weekend. It's only been two weeks but I tell you, it's high time. I'm becoming a complete emotional mess (which ususally, I pride myself on being the exact opposite of), in the past two days I've cried at...

• Adverts for Eurostar
• Adverts for Google (in my defence, this was charming, I will be sure to post the link at some point)
• People speaking French (at work no less, I crawled into the bathroom in shame)
• A woman walking her child to the bus stop

How and why? I do not exactly know. I blame hormones and being away from the man who stopped me from being a black hearted solitary cow to... a blubblering maternal mess (oh, joy of joys).

Anyway - back on track, my journey is something to be very excited about. I also have the right to be slightly worried (because I had to fib to worm my way out of work an hour early, love will do these things!) and also because, well, I'm not on the train yet. Which is going to keep me awake on Thursday night, I just know it.

The sickness and the stress regard work (which has been so busy I haven't been able to have a single thought to myself between 7.45 and 4.45), there is a winter sniffle going around I am desperately trying to avoid and, the fact that my boyfriend is now worrying about what visa to apply for, and when to do it.

I'm not going to bore myself (or yourselves) with the details but this is the decision my boyfriend and I have made. He's going to apply for a Skilled - Recognised Graduate - temporary (subclass 476) visa which allows young (under 31 years old) Engineers who have recently finished uni at a recognized institution to come to Australia without a sponsor and work freely for 18 months. At the end of those 18 months, well, another visa (at the moment the options are for him to get an employment visa and a sponsor, or for us to get one on the basis of our relationship). However, one of the options is that I go to join him in France for my final year of university - which would make applying for another visa futile. Oh well, lets see. Progress on the Australia front, hurrah! He's also managed to secure an interview with Veolia already too. Words cannot describe how excited I am!

Ultimately, I feel optimistic and strong, like I'm going to be able to get myself (and possibly, if the lover has another freakout, us both) through these challenges, and like if it's meant to be, it will be. Wish me luck =) I'll write to you from Paris, and it will be even more swoony than I am now, be prepared ;)

Please note that my views/opinions/choices of Visa are not professional, and while I could offer my personal advice, this is only relevant to my particular situation.

The Challenges of Dating an Engineer

I come from a family who, on my mother's side at least, are incredibly good at living life. Challenges face us every day, and if we do not embrace them, life becomes harder than it was in the first place. My boyfriend, does not see life this way. Oh no.

As I am leaving London in a few months, and the past 10 or so months my boyfriend and I have had together have been complete bliss, the lovely boy has decided that his mission for the next year is to find his way in to Australia, get a job, and then (once I graduate), contemplate a return to Europe for our future. Anyway, I'm getting off topic, there is plenty of time for romantic swooning later.

The problem is, getting a job in Australia is (as with anywhere) bound to be a challenge. Thus, as he hasn't recieved an instant 'yes! Frenchman, we love you, come over!' in the past week he has been searching - he is getting... well, discouraged is an understatement. My boyfriend speaks almost perfect English, has loads of contacts in the field - some of which extend to Australia, a degree from a fabulous university in France paired with an equally fabulous year long exchange to the UK (and it should be known, many Australians are at least closet Anglophiles), his career choice is not only incredibly relevant to Australia, but Australia is publishing news story after news story of how we are scouring the world looking for 20,000 of these sorts of people. Given its reputation for virtually unpassable immigration laws, the fact that Australia has made a) getting a visa outlandishly simple and b) basically opening the doors to the young ones is mindblowing, it would fill any Engineer with hope. Except, my boyfriend.

I try so hard to play the calm, collected and supportive girlfriend, which I am, but it's no easy feat. He contemplates giving up on his career and coming to Australia as a student (so much more expensive and much harder to get a visa), which is sweet, but to be leaning toward plan B one week in to a search is just mindboggling to me. 2 years ago, when I first made the decision to come to the UK I had no job prospects, was not a graduate of university, wasn't looking for any job in particular and it took me at least 3 months of waking up at 8am, going to an internet cafe, applying for job after job after job until my brain felt like it was going to explode, then coming home and willing the phone to ring. Social life was out of the question as I had only come with the bare minimum amount of wages I needed and that was dedicated to food and rent. After 3 months I found something temporary and, thankfully, by complete luck, I found something permanent from there. I was, judging by my account balance, about 3 weeks from having to give up and go home, it's not easy, whoever you are wherever you are in the world. You would think (given that it took him a month to find him an internship in his native France) that he would understand this and embrace it. Instead, he faces sleepless nights and unfulfilling plan B's.

Anyway, just a little rant. I love the man to pieces, I just wish he had an 8th of the optimism I have (and I am not an unrealistically optimistic person). Cross your fingers, I will keep you informed!

I have a house! (And rental tips for new Londoners)

You may or may not have assumed I had a house, or at least a place to call 'home' somewhere in London. I do, or rather, did. On the 20th of August (while I was on holiday in Germany and blissfully unaware of the horrors befalling my East End abode) my block of apartments caught fire. Two people had to be pulled from the inferno (luckily the other 12 or so of us were out of the house), the fire department arrived in time to extinguish the fire before it got to the 2nd floor (and I live on the third, so no damages aside from the door the firemen knocked down to check no-one was inside), but the past month has been spent getting the place live-able.

At first, I slept on many friends' floors.which starts off ok, but if you have your period or a busy day at work (and yes - they are in the same league in my opinion) you don't want to be sleeping on a floor. Then, by some miracle, I found 2 weeks accomodation in a temporary room that *wasn't* extortionate. At the end of those two weeks (i.e today) I was given the keys back in to my house. While I am so happy to have my room back, it's a complete nightmare - everything is covered in a thick layer of dust, my window blind is broken, my clothing racks are teetering, it's all a bit unnerving. I am thankful though, I have my room, it will be beautiful again soon hopefully, and nothing was destroyed.

A FEW LESSONS FOR THOSE OF YOU CONSIDERING RENTING A ROOM IN LONDON

1. It's expensive, I pay £420 a month (for everything except internet, which I provide myself) for a big room, shared toilet/bathroom/kitchen in Bethnal Green next to the tube. This is VERY cheap. Expect to pay at LEAST this in the East End, add approximately £150p/m on if you live somewhere between Shoreditch and Angel, and the original price can honestly DOUBLE if you go to Zone 1 south west (South Kensington, Chelsea)
2. While I love the East End and believe that for a multitude of reasons Australians would thrive there ( for some reason all antipodeans seem to head way out west - Shepherds Bush, Acton) it is largely corrupt and/or deprived - I would love to be more politically correct but I am amped up. Be prepared for dodgy landlords, employers, crappy insurance. I thought, being in a beautiful period building would save my bacon (and I was an idiot who didn't insure any of her belongings) but for example - the caretaker of my poor burnt house lived on the first floor and lost EVERYTHING (clothes, documents, new mattress, TV, the lot), was poor and had no insurance, the landlords are not going to help out even a teeny bit. I respect them and thank them for getting me into my room, but, come on!

Please - search and search and MAKE SURE you are getting a decent deal, *particularly* in the East. Read, read and re-read before you sign anything. If I wasn't only here for another 3 or so months, I would be moving out of my place with all due speed.
3. Take out insurance - especially if you are not 100% confident in your landlord/house/area
4. Do not take anything for granted. Last time I did, my house burnt down.

If you would like any opinions or advice, I am more than happy to give it. Why do so many of us Antipodeans choose the West anyway? It's very boring in comparison to the East (in my opinion, at least!).

(Please note, this blog was written before Stratford and the East held the London Olympics. London is not ready for the Olympics, and the East is going to suffer, if I had to move back in/post 2012 I would a - prepare to spend more money and b- live in the north or south)

Oh, London, I love you but sometimes you wear me out. Thinking I could probably rent a house in Brisbane for the money I pay brings a tear to my eye.

Allo luv

Hello! Welcome, Bienvenue, Willkommen, Kia Ora, Selamat Datang (and all those various other greetings I could google to impress you). Welcome to my blog Musings of a cosmopolitan. I've tried (and failed) to write lots of blogs in the past, but this one, I hope, might last. Why? Because I think I have some vaguely interesting things to say.

As a bit of a general background I am a young Australian living in London. I am small, self-conscious, have a mundane job (though in its defence the people are nice and it means I can travel), a French boyfriend, and a head full of dreams. While I suppose the logical thing to do with this blog would have been to start it just over a year ago when I first moved to London and document my adventure from day one, I hadn't the time, energy, interest, or (in reciprocation) anything interesting to say (write?). So, with only a few months left before my return to Australia, lets try and make my two cents worth something.

I am sitting here with my (nearly finished) cinnamon scroll (it was my birthday last Saturday, I am allowing myself a treat) and my tea, trying to work out where to begin, funnily enough I've gone from having nothing to say to having too much to say without even noticing it. This could take some pondering. Speak soon!