So, where to start, where to start... As Frauline Maria from The Sound of Music would say "Let's start at the very beginning, it's a very good place to start..."
An underside view of Edinburgh castleMy last serious post was from Edinburgh, where Fran and I just hung out, and looked at a few things down the Royal Mile, and then on Monday, I went for a solo walk to the National Gallery of Scotland. Well, there are a few galleries that come under the National Gallery banner, but I went to the most famous, at the end of Hanover Street, in the main touristy part of Edinburgh.
Wow, Wow, Wow... my guidebook said that the gallery was small, but was well curated with some really reknown works. I spent 3.5 hours in this supposedly small gallery, and loved every second of it. The collection was definitely varied and interesting.
I saw my first Monet painting, and a Boticelli as well. I am going to sound like a 5 year old, but one of the highlights of my day were the dark forest green tartan pants that the security guards and administrators in the gallery wear. Tee heee. I know I was in Scotland, and it makes total sense that an art gallery would pay homage to it's culture through the national textile, but surely, there could be some sort of innovation in uniform design rather than forest green tartan slacks that were certainly designed in 1982, that could be just as fitting. Wish i had taken a photo.
Anyway, I bought too many postcards, and then walked home very happy with my venture into the European art appreciation world.
Anyway, I bought too many postcards, and then walked home very happy with my venture into the European art appreciation world.
I left Edinburgh on Tuesday, after a sensational home cooked salmon steak meal by Fran the night before ( Lemon, garlic salmon with green beans, and a roast potato stuffed with guacamole = 9.6 on the Rani ratings of timing, presentation, colour, quantity, texture, taste.)
I almost missed the plane (!!!), but made it with 15 minutes to spare before check in closed, because i had to trapse around the city centre, looking for where the airport bus departed. I hadn't bothered looking up any official sources of information, instead having a short discussion with Fran's housemates, and wandering off in the general direction of where I thought I should be going.
I left Fran's house at 1pm, got home to Lauren and Michael's house at 9pm. Admittedly, after stupidly choosing the Easyjet bus from Gatwick airport into London in peak hour traffic, it was a "slightly" delayed journey home. It took the bus 1 and three quarter hours to get into London Metro area. It cost me 7 pounds. The train takes a guaranteed half hour at 16 pounds. i am still undecided about whether I made the right choice or not. But hey, lets not brood over these little things.
After getting into London, I sat my weary ass into a Vietnamese restaurant to eat, and had a rice, mineral water, and a prawn salad for about 13 pounds. I left the restaurant hungry, grumpy, with a significantly lighter wallet, and missing my favourite Vietnamese restaurant in Adelaide, Sunflower, where I could have been rolled out of the restaurant, full, drunk and deleriously happy for the same price.
*sigh* Where for art thou Sunflower?
I had a quiet day on Wednesday, choosing to cook my famous egg plant parmigiana (Thanks Jacqui!) and a rack of lamb for Lauren and Michael, and catching up on some facebook and trashy english tv.
Thursday consisted of a lazy morning, and then deciding that I would wander aimlessly and see where life took me. It took me to Knightsbridge, and ultimately to Harrods department store, and Picadilly circus.
I sailed through cosmetics, and perfume at Harrods and headed straight for the great Food Hall, and practically spent the hour with my nose pressed up against the glass fridge displays.
My favourite part of the section? Pate and Foie Gras section, where colourfully decorated tubs of Pate and Foie Gras lined the fridge, looking deceivingly like gelati. Goose liver, and chicken liver, and rabbit liver - oh my!
I left Harrods, and went to Picadilly circus, determined to get at least one photo of me taken in front of something significant in the UK. Instead, I left with a photo of me looking worse for wear in front of the electronic billboards infront of Picadilly circus and a Front Row Grand Circle ticket to The Lion King musical matinee, (which I saw yesterday.)
Ok, i admit, I paid too much. How much? Not telling. Should I be ashamed for what I paid? Slightly. Do I give a rats ass? Not particularly.
But I didn't shop around for tickets. My tired little feet begged me to go home ...
"Please Rani, please... we need a rest... take us back to Lauren and Michael's."
I have hardly any good photos of me in London, I'm too shy to ask other people to take photos of me infront of things. And the most awkward part is posing infront of something, while a complete stranger takes a photo of you. I have a few, but nothing amazing. But I am not sure how you have sublime touristy shots infront of landmarks? Especially when you are travelling by yourself. A landmark is what it is, and its not like I can get all Annie Leibovitz in front of a billboard.
I spent Friday at the Saatchi Gallery, which is a gallery that focuses on modern art. It was a little disappointing, there were some cool things, and I was allowed to take photos. There were some really naff "pieces" at this gallery that were really nothing more than ego driven psychotic bullshit.
Cardboard frames leaning against walls alongside, plastic sheets with gaffa tape stuck on them in no particular order, labeled as the "the artists exploration into all that co-exists within material spectrums, deriving force and meaning behind mass consumerism and the battle for true harmony in the material world." WHATEVER. ( I made that description up by the way, since re writing the actual description of the piece would have made me VOMIT A LITTLE INTO MY MOUTH.)
Luckily, some redeeming art further along the gallery.
Origami man playing piano, singular piece of tarp, about 7 metres by 4 metres.
I also took the audio tour of the National British Gallery, in Trafalgar square and wasn't particularly impressed, despite seeing a Da Vinci, a Van Gough, Renoir, and a Klimt. The collection was massive, but all of it sort of seemed the same. By the way, I don't reccomend the audio tour; this too is also a massive wank. They repeat the same things that the little description tags say on the walls next to the pieces, with a few more arty additional musings, which sound pompous and over contrived.
I took the tube to meet my friend Jordie at her office for some free after work drinks, where I met some of her workmates, and they were hilarious. I loved listening to them talk, their accents were all so different, i was having good time mimicking them, and talking to them about London culture, like North side versus East side, etc etc.
Later Jordie and I went out to Camden, and had a big night out on the cider. My love for cider has grown exponentially since coming to the UK. It is now my drink of choice, so refreshing, and doesn't leave you feeling over disgusting in the morning.
That same weekend, my friend Vanessa and I went to Lovebox Weekender, a music festival curated by Groove Armada. It was very very cool, and the rain held off for long enough, that we basked in the sunshine and people watched all day, watch a few crazy acts Slightly hungover from the night before, I was unable to eat much, but the offerings were sensational.
Vanessa had an awesome looking haloumi, and portobello mushroom burger with truffle sauce. I was angry at my stomach for reacting so badly at looking at something so beautiful. Instead, I munched on 2 cheese straws.
I didn't take my camera with me, unfortunately, so no photos of a very good afternoon. Next time, Gadget, next time.
The festival line up was a little bit too cool for school for me, I only knew a few acts, but to my sheer delight, a singer/band that I was really getting into in Australia happened to be playing; Florence and the Machine. It was truly awesome to be watching them live, having really loved a couple of her/their (?) songs. The word about Florence is that she's a London girl that was studying fashion at the London College of Fashion, before dropping out and pursuing music. Is that really fair, that you get to be so freaking talented??
Vanessa also introduced me to a very cool old school rock and roll/ pop/ ska/ indie singer called V.V Brown, whom we also saw that day. Lots of fun, and only something crazy like 19 years old. Vanessa told me about tis show called the Black Cab Acoustic sesssions, where artists sing acoustic in the back of a London Black Cab. www.blackcabsessions.com
Check it out:
I have discovered so much new music since I've been away, it's been awesome.
A couple of things that caught me particularly off guard;
The first thing was, how transparent the drug trade was at the music festival. I'm talking about the purchase of, the consumption of, the policing of, and the sale of all illicit substances.
Firstly, there were cops everywhere at this festival. 30,000 people in attendance and a strong police presence. We saw a girl that was about 16 years old, literally get dragged away with full force by two cops, as she was arguing with them about something, turns out she had tried to snort a couple of lines behind the toilet blocks, because she couldn't be bothered waiting in the toilet que. I thought that it was a bit unnecessary, but from what I understand, London cops don't take much shit from anyone.
Despite the obvious police presence, a few things I noticed about the consumption and then dealing side of things. Guys in their late thirties, walking around the grounds, complaining about how shit the gear they've organised is, and how they've desperately got to find more. Others not so obvious, just slyly walking up to random people and asking "hey, are you holding?
As for sales, throughout the afternoon as we stood amongst the crowds, we saw big dudes roaming amongst the throngs of people, poking random people, and yelling "Charlie, GG, Hash, Weed? You want it, i got...eh, love (poke poke) you after some charlie, good gear? What about you fella?"
We're not in kansas anymore, Toto.
We went out after the festival to meet Vanessa's boyfriend Luke, and his friends at a pub near London Bridge, which was also very funny.
The best part about knowing people in London was meeting all their new friends.
Sunday, Vanessa showed me her ideal day out in London. We hit a very cool breakfast place in East London (Shoreditch?) called Leila's Shop, where I spotted Ralph Fiennes popping his head in, looking for a free table. We then went to the Flower Markets and Brick Lane Vintage markets. I am pretty sure I found bliss, in Brick Lane. It was this edgy, very random, and relaxed vintage clothes market, where people just sold their old clothes by the side of the street, and I could people watch every day. Guys giving out fliers for reggae and dub nights, art galleries left right and centre, hand made funky jewellery and hair clips, and mexican wrestling masks....oh yes, food stalls, food stalls, food stalls. I had a massive tub of morrocan meatballs and lamb curry with cous cous, rice, bean salad and garden salad for 5 pounds!!!
We then had a little look see in Spittelfields (???) indoor markets, which was also full of cool handmade jewelery and clothes etc.
On Monday, I went back to Lauren and Michael's house where Michael is on school holidays, and was itching to get out. He took me to Notting Hill, and to West Kensington, down a street where a lot fo the European embassies are based. This street is deserted, and down either side, cops with machine guns guard the entry posts. No photography is allowed, which is probably why Michael and I ran into Glenn McGrath, taking a walk. Notting Hill wasn't really what I thought it was going to be like, i guess the movie has sort of tarnished my thoughts about it, or perhaps it has changed so much since the movie came out.
On Tuesday, Georgina took the day off work, and we went and had a tourists day out, with visits to the Tower of London, The Tate Modern Gallery, Southbank (London Eye viewing but no riding, the line was about 3 hours long), and the Soho region. We didn't want to pay the hefty entrance fee to visit the Tower of London, but there was this interesting church next door that I wanted to visit because it was in my guide book. It's also a bit strange because this old area is now a buzzing corporate district of the city, with lots of sky scrapers etc. It had an underground crypt, so Georgina and I went underneath. The ceilings were quite low, and it was a little bit musty and eerie. Imagine our surprise when we walked into the enclave of one room in particular, and there was a church pew on our right hand side. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought it was a display of a person, lying down in like a coffin type thing, but the "display" shuffled a little bit and moved, and I almost screamed. I looked at George, and she looked at me, and we both almost rolled around in laughter because the "display" turned out to be a 20 something guy in his business suit, lying down on the pew, facing the ceiling in deep contemplation. We just kept looking between him, and ourselves and just thinking; "What the..?"
We joked later on that he was probably a stockbroker that had lost 30 million pounds, and was seeking solace in a church, searching for divine intervention to keep his job, or somehow miraculously discover another 30 million pounds before the day was through. It's only funny because we're not him.
On Wednesday, I went and saw The Lion King musical, which was very very good. Yes, i admit, I cried. Such a litte pussy aren't I? Just like the movie that I loved so much when I was 11 and besotted with Jonathon Taylor Thomas, the show was an awesome blend of puppetry, dance, acting, singing, and stage design magic. Afterwards, I had dinner and drinks with friends from Brisbane, Ben and Sooze. They took me to a great Italian place. What it's called or where I was, I couldn't tell you.
You'not really supposed to take photos but... click on it for a bigger image and for a sense of how awesome the costumes and puppetry really were.
Thursday, I caught up with my old flat mate, Krystal, and drank copious amounts of tea, and hung out with her, as I was absolutely exhausted after a week of non stop movement.
Just before I leave this post, I have to feature my favourite thing about London so far, which Georgina and I shared many a moment laughing over.
There are free tabloid newspapers you get here for reading on the tube. There are about 3 or 4 different ones you can get. One of them, or maybe all of them, has a "reverse classifieds" section. That's my own terminology for it, but it sort of makes sense.
If a classified ad for love in a publication means you are looking for a love you have never met, I guess that a reverse classified in my books means, you've seen them, but you didn't get to approach them, and you are now looking for them again.
I think this was inspired by www.nygirlofmydreams.com; read about it here.
This particular section is called "Change your fate": here are a few ads I thought to be hilarious from last Tuesday's paper.
"Come on Minger I want to ming with you." What THE?? That's an invitation if I ever heard one.
I have hardly any good photos of me in London, I'm too shy to ask other people to take photos of me infront of things. And the most awkward part is posing infront of something, while a complete stranger takes a photo of you. I have a few, but nothing amazing. But I am not sure how you have sublime touristy shots infront of landmarks? Especially when you are travelling by yourself. A landmark is what it is, and its not like I can get all Annie Leibovitz in front of a billboard.
I spent Friday at the Saatchi Gallery, which is a gallery that focuses on modern art. It was a little disappointing, there were some cool things, and I was allowed to take photos. There were some really naff "pieces" at this gallery that were really nothing more than ego driven psychotic bullshit.
Cardboard frames leaning against walls alongside, plastic sheets with gaffa tape stuck on them in no particular order, labeled as the "the artists exploration into all that co-exists within material spectrums, deriving force and meaning behind mass consumerism and the battle for true harmony in the material world." WHATEVER. ( I made that description up by the way, since re writing the actual description of the piece would have made me VOMIT A LITTLE INTO MY MOUTH.)
Luckily, some redeeming art further along the gallery.
Origami man playing piano, singular piece of tarp, about 7 metres by 4 metres. I also took the audio tour of the National British Gallery, in Trafalgar square and wasn't particularly impressed, despite seeing a Da Vinci, a Van Gough, Renoir, and a Klimt. The collection was massive, but all of it sort of seemed the same. By the way, I don't reccomend the audio tour; this too is also a massive wank. They repeat the same things that the little description tags say on the walls next to the pieces, with a few more arty additional musings, which sound pompous and over contrived.
I took the tube to meet my friend Jordie at her office for some free after work drinks, where I met some of her workmates, and they were hilarious. I loved listening to them talk, their accents were all so different, i was having good time mimicking them, and talking to them about London culture, like North side versus East side, etc etc.
Later Jordie and I went out to Camden, and had a big night out on the cider. My love for cider has grown exponentially since coming to the UK. It is now my drink of choice, so refreshing, and doesn't leave you feeling over disgusting in the morning.
That same weekend, my friend Vanessa and I went to Lovebox Weekender, a music festival curated by Groove Armada. It was very very cool, and the rain held off for long enough, that we basked in the sunshine and people watched all day, watch a few crazy acts Slightly hungover from the night before, I was unable to eat much, but the offerings were sensational.
Vanessa had an awesome looking haloumi, and portobello mushroom burger with truffle sauce. I was angry at my stomach for reacting so badly at looking at something so beautiful. Instead, I munched on 2 cheese straws.
I didn't take my camera with me, unfortunately, so no photos of a very good afternoon. Next time, Gadget, next time.
The festival line up was a little bit too cool for school for me, I only knew a few acts, but to my sheer delight, a singer/band that I was really getting into in Australia happened to be playing; Florence and the Machine. It was truly awesome to be watching them live, having really loved a couple of her/their (?) songs. The word about Florence is that she's a London girl that was studying fashion at the London College of Fashion, before dropping out and pursuing music. Is that really fair, that you get to be so freaking talented??
Vanessa also introduced me to a very cool old school rock and roll/ pop/ ska/ indie singer called V.V Brown, whom we also saw that day. Lots of fun, and only something crazy like 19 years old. Vanessa told me about tis show called the Black Cab Acoustic sesssions, where artists sing acoustic in the back of a London Black Cab. www.blackcabsessions.com
Check it out:
I have discovered so much new music since I've been away, it's been awesome.
A couple of things that caught me particularly off guard;
The first thing was, how transparent the drug trade was at the music festival. I'm talking about the purchase of, the consumption of, the policing of, and the sale of all illicit substances.
Firstly, there were cops everywhere at this festival. 30,000 people in attendance and a strong police presence. We saw a girl that was about 16 years old, literally get dragged away with full force by two cops, as she was arguing with them about something, turns out she had tried to snort a couple of lines behind the toilet blocks, because she couldn't be bothered waiting in the toilet que. I thought that it was a bit unnecessary, but from what I understand, London cops don't take much shit from anyone.
Despite the obvious police presence, a few things I noticed about the consumption and then dealing side of things. Guys in their late thirties, walking around the grounds, complaining about how shit the gear they've organised is, and how they've desperately got to find more. Others not so obvious, just slyly walking up to random people and asking "hey, are you holding?
As for sales, throughout the afternoon as we stood amongst the crowds, we saw big dudes roaming amongst the throngs of people, poking random people, and yelling "Charlie, GG, Hash, Weed? You want it, i got...eh, love (poke poke) you after some charlie, good gear? What about you fella?"
We're not in kansas anymore, Toto.
We went out after the festival to meet Vanessa's boyfriend Luke, and his friends at a pub near London Bridge, which was also very funny.
The best part about knowing people in London was meeting all their new friends.
Sunday, Vanessa showed me her ideal day out in London. We hit a very cool breakfast place in East London (Shoreditch?) called Leila's Shop, where I spotted Ralph Fiennes popping his head in, looking for a free table. We then went to the Flower Markets and Brick Lane Vintage markets. I am pretty sure I found bliss, in Brick Lane. It was this edgy, very random, and relaxed vintage clothes market, where people just sold their old clothes by the side of the street, and I could people watch every day. Guys giving out fliers for reggae and dub nights, art galleries left right and centre, hand made funky jewellery and hair clips, and mexican wrestling masks....oh yes, food stalls, food stalls, food stalls. I had a massive tub of morrocan meatballs and lamb curry with cous cous, rice, bean salad and garden salad for 5 pounds!!!
We then had a little look see in Spittelfields (???) indoor markets, which was also full of cool handmade jewelery and clothes etc.
On Monday, I went back to Lauren and Michael's house where Michael is on school holidays, and was itching to get out. He took me to Notting Hill, and to West Kensington, down a street where a lot fo the European embassies are based. This street is deserted, and down either side, cops with machine guns guard the entry posts. No photography is allowed, which is probably why Michael and I ran into Glenn McGrath, taking a walk. Notting Hill wasn't really what I thought it was going to be like, i guess the movie has sort of tarnished my thoughts about it, or perhaps it has changed so much since the movie came out.
On Tuesday, Georgina took the day off work, and we went and had a tourists day out, with visits to the Tower of London, The Tate Modern Gallery, Southbank (London Eye viewing but no riding, the line was about 3 hours long), and the Soho region. We didn't want to pay the hefty entrance fee to visit the Tower of London, but there was this interesting church next door that I wanted to visit because it was in my guide book. It's also a bit strange because this old area is now a buzzing corporate district of the city, with lots of sky scrapers etc. It had an underground crypt, so Georgina and I went underneath. The ceilings were quite low, and it was a little bit musty and eerie. Imagine our surprise when we walked into the enclave of one room in particular, and there was a church pew on our right hand side. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought it was a display of a person, lying down in like a coffin type thing, but the "display" shuffled a little bit and moved, and I almost screamed. I looked at George, and she looked at me, and we both almost rolled around in laughter because the "display" turned out to be a 20 something guy in his business suit, lying down on the pew, facing the ceiling in deep contemplation. We just kept looking between him, and ourselves and just thinking; "What the..?"
We joked later on that he was probably a stockbroker that had lost 30 million pounds, and was seeking solace in a church, searching for divine intervention to keep his job, or somehow miraculously discover another 30 million pounds before the day was through. It's only funny because we're not him.
On Wednesday, I went and saw The Lion King musical, which was very very good. Yes, i admit, I cried. Such a litte pussy aren't I? Just like the movie that I loved so much when I was 11 and besotted with Jonathon Taylor Thomas, the show was an awesome blend of puppetry, dance, acting, singing, and stage design magic. Afterwards, I had dinner and drinks with friends from Brisbane, Ben and Sooze. They took me to a great Italian place. What it's called or where I was, I couldn't tell you.
You'not really supposed to take photos but... click on it for a bigger image and for a sense of how awesome the costumes and puppetry really were.Thursday, I caught up with my old flat mate, Krystal, and drank copious amounts of tea, and hung out with her, as I was absolutely exhausted after a week of non stop movement.
Just before I leave this post, I have to feature my favourite thing about London so far, which Georgina and I shared many a moment laughing over.
There are free tabloid newspapers you get here for reading on the tube. There are about 3 or 4 different ones you can get. One of them, or maybe all of them, has a "reverse classifieds" section. That's my own terminology for it, but it sort of makes sense.
If a classified ad for love in a publication means you are looking for a love you have never met, I guess that a reverse classified in my books means, you've seen them, but you didn't get to approach them, and you are now looking for them again.
I think this was inspired by www.nygirlofmydreams.com; read about it here.
This particular section is called "Change your fate": here are a few ads I thought to be hilarious from last Tuesday's paper.
"Come on Minger I want to ming with you." What THE?? That's an invitation if I ever heard one.
