Amsterdam, December 2009: The old weighing house in Nieuwemarkt becomes fairytale material.
Amsterdam, April 2010: A last walk on the dock of my old neighborhood.
London, 12th June 2010: Borough Markets treat - Melted Swiss cheese on new potatoes, gherkins and pickled onions. I categorically disagree with anyone that says money can't buy happiness.
London, 11th June 2010: Filming the first ever commercial I (co-)wrote. I can only hope my best is yet to come.
Ghent, 22nd August 2010: Hanging my high tops out to dry.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are approaching Victoria station. Please remember to take all your baggage before you disembark from this train. And whoever you're with, where ever you go, whatever you do; have a nice evening, and God Bless you."
I have a magical life full of awesome, inspiring, creative, strong, hilarious, beautiful, and giving friends, and have been given more opportunities than you can poke a stick at in this overseas adventure.
Over brunch today, I was sitting with my friends at a table, and after buttering my toast, or taking a bite of my toast and eggs, suddenly announced "I'm feeling happy."
My friends just looked at me, surprised at my random outburst, and said "That's good." and carried on talking about something or rather. ( I think it was about futuristic asian indian fluoro costumes. But I could be wrong.)
And I continued to eat my fried eggs and sage. Or Portuguese egg tart. Or something.
La vie est belle - Happiness is recovering from my birthday shin dig I had the night before, sitting at a brunch table in East London, amongst some of the most genuine people in the world and having the honour of calling them my friends.
And this feeling continued on all day. The world was just so fuzzy and warm today.
I've become an absolute blogging disgrace ... no posts in over a week. However, in my defence, I have been hankering to get some photos up on here, in full knowledge that my words alone can not amuse all. In addition to this, I think an empty blog once in a while is a testament to getting out there and living your life, instead of wishing it away.
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 castle
My 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.
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.
Apologies for not having updated in a long time. Am getting to an internet cafe later today to upload some photos from the past week, and write some interesting tales of adventures and hilarity.
Lauren: What are you going to do today on your first official day here? Me: I don't know. I'm confused. It seems like there is so much to do here. I read my guide book, I can't decide what I really want to see or do first. What do you think? Lauren: Well you could go to Buckingham Palace, or Camden Markets, or the Tate, or go see the live art installation, or go to Soho ... Me: I don't want to go to Buckingham Palace. Lauren: You can't be here, and NOT go to Buckingham Palace. Me: Yes, I can, I am not your average tourist, I don't necessarily like the typical sights. I am an easy going, non committal tourist....Maybe I'll go to Westminster Abbey, at least that sounds interesting, and I'm not just looking at the outside facade of a building that means nothing to me. Lauren: Just go to Buckingham Palace, and get it over and done with. Me: Mmmm....how about 'no'. Maybe I'll catch the number 11 bus and go past all the sights and hop and hop off if I feel like it, and get some other stuff over and done with. Lauren: Well, get up and do something, don't waste the day...(gets up to walk out the door to go to work)... Remember ... You are master of your own destiny now!! Have a good day! (shuts door behind her) Me: That is way too profound for a Wednesday morning 8am conversation.
If yesterday taught me anything it is these things;
-I could never be a miner, or a cave explorer. ( I knew this trip would give me insight into what sort of careers I should eliminate from my list of careers to pursue. The money on the ticket is obviously paying for itself with such deep insights. Let's hope they come to me daily.)I hate the idea of underground tunnels, caves, darkness, lack of fresh air.
I worked out the tube system all by myself, without asking anyone where to stop, where to get off to transfer lines, eastbound vs westbound (Look, i know it doesn't make me Einstein, but it's a triumph for the first time traveller.) I went from Hammersmith to Oxford Circus, to Carnaby Street for lunch, to Marble Arch for a Chiropractic/Applied Kinesiology session with my friend Ben (random, I know, but he fixed my back for me, bless his sweet soul!), to Liverpool street station for a drink at The Light( a cool warehouse style bar in the middle of a serious Wall street type area). All without a hitch.
Having said this, I don't like the tube. I thought the trains would be like they were in Singapore - wide, clean, airconditioned. I was wrong. They are tiny, narrow, and stinky and hot. I hate the descent into what seems to be the steaming dungeon of torture. Lauren said that when her line has a bad day due to a '"fatality" or electrical fault or whatever, she can be stuck in a tunnel for hours on end. I think I would scream and die in that instance. She said she just tries not to think about it, by reading one of the free papers. I thought that was a good idea, and have adopted that strategy. However, kudos for the trains that run pretty much every 2 minutes. It makes me feel somewhat better that I won't be standing around with sketchy strangers around me for ages on end, with no idea of how to escape should I need to. (PS> Meta, you would be proud, I haven't touched a handrail since I got here.)
-Always go to the toilet before you attempt to ride public transport. I fear wanting to wee when I am stuck on a train and having no idea when I will be let off.
- Always carry tissues wherever you go, for spills, toilets, wiping food off mouth and other stuff.
- I have a fear of taking photos, in fear of standing out like a tourist. Even though I am one. I am trying not to care about it so much, learning to be brave and pull the camera out whenever I feel the urge.Hence, to date, I don't have many good photos. Will work on that.
- London is actually comparably cheap for eating out, and asian food can be decent. I had lunch off Carnaby street at Cha Cha Moon yesterday with my friend Jordie and her friend Lilly. Yummy and only cost me about £12 for a drink, noodles and a plate of dumplings, and I was full to the brim for the rest of the evening. I was amused that my waitress was a Thai he-she. A very pleasant one at that. But amused all the same.
-You don't need to pay the lady in the toilet anything unless you use her perfume or deoderant, or take a lollipop. What a relief. I rarely carry change with me to the toilet, because I have never been accosted by a scary large woman trying to clean me. At first I thought she was trying to take on a mother role, by pumping the soap in my hands, and offering me a towel. I looked at her blankly and almost wanted to say "I'm a big girl now", then I realised what was going on. I scurried off without paying her, only to be told by others that she gets paid a wage and it's fine not to make eye contact and just to leave without paying.
- London is full of schizophrenic people talking to themselves. Tuesday: One sat next to one, with blaring earphones. At first I thought he was screaming at someone on a blue tooth mobile thing, but then I saw his headphones and heard his music, and put two and two together. I didn't make any sudden movements, but slunk away like a phantom and blended into the crowd as quick as I could. I then walked past a sweet looking muslim woman in her fifties, carrying Tesco bags full of groceries, but muttering complaints about butter on the road. When we walked to Westfield yesterday, another guy was shouting at noone. Aggressively. Wednesday: 1, opposite me on the road.
- Londoners are not afraid to tell other people what they really think. On Tuesday, I was one of 30 people in the Mac Store, using their laptops to check facebook. I was told off, and asked to move to another section of the store where I could do that because "these computers are used to exhibit our new software." I looked around to see about 29 other kids using facebook and bebo, and wondered why I was isolated. Perhaps he thought I was old enough to know better. I apologised and slunk away again (getting good at this). Then I noticed the sales guy pick on another girl who was about 15, with about 3 of her friends.
She got in his face and said "What about all these other people,yeah? They are all doin' the same thing, why you just pickin on me? Get lost." and she turned around and kept playing on the laptop. Sassy.
A woman was walking behind a 20 something young man that was smoking, and she was getting frustrated at the foot traffic in her and shoved past him, and said "That bleedin stinks, get away from me." and he shoved her back and told her to get fucked. Scary.
13.35 hours on a flight, with a good seat ... I needn't have worried too much, i had the right hand side front row of economy class, right next to the emergency exit... leg room a plenty.
The guy to the right hand side of me struck up a conversation early on in the flight - he was a Pro Rugby League player from New Zealand (but actually Tongan), living in France, playing for their team. He was sweet, and a little bit quiet, but offered to share his french fries from burger king with me. I politely declined. We chatted a little bit. When I told him I was from Adelaide, he told me his girlfriend was from Mount Gambier, and asked me if i knew her.
"Quite possibly..." I mused. We chatted a little bit more, but I quickly tuned into my headphones, not wanting to be stuck in awkward conversation for the next 13 hours.
Otherwise, a very uneventful flight, which was fantastic, however, my only complaint being that my sleeping pills didn't knock me out hard enough. (When I got to London, Michael said "his name wasn't Sunny was it? That guy was in some sort of sex scandal recently..." - come to think of it, He was mumbled his name a little bit when we introduced ourselves, and when i thought long and hard about it, it did sound like Sunny or Sian or something.... hmmmm)
Just as the plane was about to land, the girl to my left struck up a conversation with me. She was pretty nice, from Sydney, she was in publishing but studying psychology and visiting her best friend in London for a month.
When we disembarked the plane, and got to Immigration, I was a trifle concerned that I hadn't memorised Lauren and Michael's address to put on my immigration card. I was no fool, I had seen 'Border Control', I was gearing myself up for a possibly heated inquisition.
I tried to call Lauren from the pay phone at the immigration reception, but it didn't work. The lady overseeing the que told me not to worry, if they really cared, I could just give them Lauren's number, and they would call her for me.
So, stepping up, I was cool, calm and collected, until I saw the woman that was going to be processing my arrival.
"Errrr..hi. I have a slight problem. I don't know the address of where I am staying."
She glared at me.
I awkwardly tried to smile, and continued. " Ah ha, well you see, I am staying with a friend of mine, in Hammersmith."
She was burning a hole through my forehead with that glare.
" Whadchya mean, you dunno where you are stayin? She pickin you up?" " Uhhh, he he, well, I'm not really sure... our plans were a little loose...(awkward pause) Oh! I have her mobile number here, I just tried to call her and the payphone isn't working, just ask that other lady over there...." "What are you going to do if she's not here to pick you up?" "I was going to catch the tube to Hammersmith." "Then what? You think its safe for a girl like you to be 'angin round a tube stop by youself. What's her name then? This friend of yours?" I told her. " How do you know her?" "We went to highschool together...." She flicks through my passport. " Where?" "St Aloysius College?" I muttered, searching for some sort of pathos in her eyes. She rolled her eyes. " Yeah, where's that?" "South Australia....?" I was starting to doubt my own answers. "So, you planning to work here? It says here that you are an... Advertising person or something?" "No, no, I'm just here on holiday for 3 weeks, and then I'm off to the Netherlands." "Right." She sighed. A momentary glance at me, and silence, before the rustling of passport papers and the thump of a stamp connecting with paper.
I've arrived.
I was slightlt surprised to stroll through customs and see NO ONE there and all the Xray machines turned off. Eeri. It was quite the contrast to Singapore that had body heat scanners at every arrival hall, and scary looking uniformed people, dying to rifle through your luggage. I know I arrived early in the morning (5.45 am) but surely the english are not that lazy that they don't care about disease, contraban, and other nasty surprises that may lurk in one's baggage?
A quick tube ride from the airport to Hammersmith station, and I was welcomed by Lauren's big bright smile, and a walk from the station to her gorgeous flat. On the drizzly walk to her flat (I was stupid to think that Summer here would mean anything other than umbrellas and jumpers), I loved everything about her suburb from the moment I set eyes on it, however there was a moment where I stopped dead in my tracks. The little park on the way to her house, Brook Green, was so familiar. It was a seriously weird sense of de ja vu, it gave me tingles up and down my spine. I couldn't stop staring at the houses that face the park, I swore that I had been in one of them before.
Anyway, after some gossip, tea and cereal, we headed to her 'high street', where she introduced me to Primark(?) - possibly the cheapest store in the world, filled to the brim with .... STUFF! Lots of STUFF! It was like a trendy Valley Girl meets Target, and it was ridiculously cheap. It was just like the old days, when Lauren and I used to hang out for a full Saturday afternoon in Target and Big W, and spend hours just trying stuff on, flicking through cookbooks and telling each other we were going to go home and make the recipes with full knowledge that neither of us knew how to cook properly, tell each other funny make believe stories about the people that were shopping in the store, trying more stuff on, goading each other to buy stupid shit and buy each other little chocolates, and leave with big smiles on our faces, and little momento of our afternoons.
Then, we went to.... Westfield, about 10 minutes walk from her house.
I found it hilarious, that I had just left the land of the monstrous malls, and arrived to the other side of the world, to in fact, go to another Mall. But I was tired, and didn't want to venture far from home.
Needless to say; Lauren was excited to be there, since it supposed to be a big deal in England since they don't have much of a mall culture (and good on them I say), saying, "Look, a champagne bar, Look, Marks and Spencer.", enthusiastically pointing out all the things that are different to what is in Westfield in Australia. I am so desensitised to Malls and brands after a month in Jakarta, all I wanted to do was go to H&M for the first time, and trawl Top Shop quickly. The rest was just... a mall. But a mall without any fast food places ( so as not to attract unwanted gangs of teenybopper thugs), but what looked to be a very expensive food court. I was more excited that I had found a Pho restaurant inside the mall, than the plethora of designer shoe shops and european and english brands that were around.
As we left Westfield, we met our friend Georgina, and met Michael (Lauren's boyf) halfway home.
"Wow, those clouds look dark", George mused as she looked up. "Let's beat the rain home" I said, worried about our lack of umbrella.
We didn't make it, and two thirds of the way home, the heavens opened, and poured a bucket of water on us. We stopped at the closes pub, and had a cider each, waiting for the rain to stop.
After a big day out, Lauren made wild mushroom ravioli pasta, and I swiftly fell asleep on the blow up mattress as the others watched 'Katie (Price) and Peter(Andre)' on itv. All in all, what a wonderful introduction to London life!
Amsterdam, December 2009: The old weighing house in Nieuwemarkt becomes fairytale material.
Amsterdam, April 2010: A last walk on the dock of my old neighborhood. 
London, 12th June 2010: Borough Markets treat - Melted Swiss cheese on new potatoes, gherkins and pickled onions. I categorically disagree with anyone that says money can't buy happiness. 
London, 11th June 2010: Filming the first ever commercial I (co-)wrote. I can only hope my best is yet to come.
Ghent, 22nd August 2010: Hanging my high tops out to dry. 
Ghent, 22nd August 2010: Ghent University facade.
An underside view of Edinburgh castle
Origami man playing piano, singular piece of tarp, about 7 metres by 4 metres. 
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.
"Come on Minger I want to ming with you." What THE?? That's an invitation if I ever heard one.
