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!