week six

Monday the 22^nd

A beer and a bite after work with Marry, not making it too late, cause awesome stuff is one the rise and an easy start of an-awesome-to-be week is a very smart thing to do.

Tuesday the 23^rd

One of the last things I had expected to do here was to visit lectures of my political party. And yet I found myself, flanked by Marry, at the second floor of a pub watching Boris vd Ham deliver an entertaining speech about politics and people and history and what not. Some drinks during and after this lecture and an early ride home, as the week had only just started with plenty to look forward to.

Wednesday the 24^th

With the five Dutchies (Martijn Jochem Marry David and I) watching Ajax beat Man City in a bar where every CL match is broadcasted on a separate floor was a splendid way to spend an evening. David and Marry couldn’t care less about the match but chatted away happily while the three of us discussed and watched the game, drinking our beer, and feeling satisfied as men do when they watch sports. One more drink after the game to make sure we’d all sleep fine, and tjop tjop onto the rental bike into the night that gets colder and colder now that autumn has really arrived.

Thursday the 25th

Waking up after a shorter night than what I am used to, with the world outside my warm and cosy apartment being cold and still dark, I had the greatest difficulty getting up let alone pack my running gear with the prospects of leaving a comfortable office for the sake of another exhaustive run. I thought of at least three good excuses not to go, didn’t pack my stuff, and left for the office, only to regret it a few hours into the morning as I was naturally yearning for some fresh air by noon. By half past five I called it a day and made my way to the Australian embassy with David for a drink organised by Vasiliki and her colleagues, a once-every-two-weeks event whereby the employees of the embassy gather in the basement and drink subsidised beer. Splendid! Met some nice people, took Gabri along who finally got to meet Vasiliki, two great friends being united, and around 9-ish we continued the splendour in a shacky but cosy Brazilian pub that served tasty but expensive carpehrinas, picking up Bo on the way as she had just arrived at the train station. Awesomeness continued until well after midnight yet the next day I couldn’t feel better and…

Friday the 26^th

… had a very productive morning at work! Should do that more often I reckon. Lunch at borough market with Bo, drinks with Marry, Jochem and his gf, Bo and me after work, and Vietnamese food for dinner later on that night. It may be a coincidental happenstance or rather I am getting aware of it but I find myself more and more often these days in places that the Harry Potter movies were shot at. Which means I find myself in places that look awesome. For instance, Hogwarts’ great hall is the main hall in the Australian Embassy, and the street where all the shopping is done in the film (I forget the name) was the location of our joint beer drinking Friday eve. London keeps surprising me!

Saturday the 27^th

This may very well have been one of the best days of London time so far. Sleeping in, relaxed wake-up, a long stroll along the river, teaming up with David and Merel (the gf) for wines and cheeses in the wine bar I have already mentioned numerous times, where we were very fortunate to find a table after a mere five minutes lingering around. You see, as the place is tremendously popular, due to among others its affordability and its uniqueness and its history and its general awesomeness, even on weekdays the tables are all occupied from four pm on. You will find the entire interior flocked with people, anxiously scanning the crowds dining and shining with delight at the tables inside, waiting for a chair to get available. The density of the queue in front of the wine bar beats the crowds at a random coronation ceremony of one of England’s past royalties, and the poor girl chopping up cheeses sees her queue disappearing through the door into the open. So yeah, pretty fortunate to secure a table upon entrance, and we fully enjoyed the variety of cheeses and two bottles of fine red wine. After two hours in ‘the cave’ we could do with some fresh air though and the stroll in the direction of the theatre at which we were planning to watch a play was a welcome one. So welcome indeed as until David told me that there wasn’t that much time left and that the theatre was well away and that we weren’t walking even in the right direction I figured it the opportune moment not to risk a third theatre visit in a few weeks time and we decided to grab a cab. After some detours an Indian rickshaw driver would be proud of the guy in the cab dropped us off nearby the destined theatre and off we went, tjop tjop, four ciders, here’s your ticket to the show, and into a tiny theatre in the basement of a snug pub where we watched a most enjoyable show in which the number of actors outnumbered the number of spectators. One of the best things I have seen thus far, honestly really. Butter chicken as a midnight snack, watching a movie in bed, and oh such a shame the bliss and splendour of a best Saturday slumbers into a deep sleep that trades awareness of its grandeur for the unconscious satisfaction of a night of dreams.

Sunday the 28^th

Waking up and realising our last day for another four weeks to come had commenced Bo and I decided to make the most of the time granted by an extra hour overnight and set foot to the tower of London. Trapped in flocks of tourists we cattle-like shuffled along the crown jewels, took a stroll around the main buildings, aaand that was enough of our one hour visit to take-at-least-four-hours-to-fully-appreciate-all-it-has-to-offer tourist magnet. Decent coffee in Soho made up for a poor lunch and that was the end of our time, Bo on the train, Teun back home, and off for some decent running to combat the vast amounts of food and alcohol that vanish daily into my mouth. Chilling at home and looking forward to a long night’s sleep in order to commence another week of bliss coming up, already number seven in my stay here that passes by much too fast.

Thanks for reading and until the next story! 

papa and mama in London

What a relaxing Sunday.. chilling out to the max; a nap in the afternoon, some lazy news watching, reading some, writing some, eating snacks throughout the day, looking back satisfied on a great visit from the parents and with a good week at work ahead. Superb! The extensive run this morning (the only time I left the house so far) compensated the excessive eating and drinking of the past 48 hours (even more than the usual) and implied a decent pace along the banks of the Thames and the neighbourhoods bordering it, all the way to parliament and back along the other river bank. Apart from visiting some supposedly renowned tourist attractions (among which the dread of PortoBello market – which doesn’t deserve such a pretty name – and the enjoyable Kensington palace) I took papa and mama mainly out for food experiences. And though my dad and I seemed to be on opposite sides regarding the tourist stuff (I don’t like markets with crowds squirming around me versus I don’t like gazing at the splendour of the royal house) we obviously share a passion for food & drinks. We did the entire spectrum; expensive French food in Soho (Thursday eve), low-budget Pakistani food north of Brick Lane (Friday eve), and the classic pub food (fish & chips) in a bar bordering the Thames (Saturday). Wines and French cheese for lunch on Saturday near Embankment, beef with pickles and mustard for lunch on Friday at Borough market; these days have been a sequence of my favourite food places that the miles of strolling around could not compensate for. Awesome.

The rest of the past week implied butter chicken on Monday with David, wines & cheeses with Gabri on Tuesday, Vietnamese food with David on Wednesday (we couldn’t find the sign that said beer&pizza for five pounds that I remembered seeing hence we end up eating Vietnamese – awesome), and the already discussed grande bouffe the three days thereafter. The upcoming week features plenty of awesomeness as well; going to a lecture with Marry on Tuesday, drinks with Gabri and his colleagues on Wednesday, drinks at the Australian Embassy with Vasiliki on Thursday, and Bo arriving later on that evening. Plenty to look forward to, and even more to enjoy consciously while it’s happening right now.

All the best from a chilly but dry London!

mediterranean food & drinks

And I thought London was only about pubs and pubfood after work… Cozy crowded pubs with mirrors and 60’s and 70’s commercials on the wall, carpet on the floor, and plenty of draft beers to choose from on demand. So when Gabriel suggested meeting at a pub he knew after I asked him to have a beer or two after work I expected the ‘usual’ insofar I am already allowed to say that. The usual, which is awesome, but still the usual.

And it was not! London keeps on surprising me. If it wasn’t for the cold I would have imagined myself in the mediterranean, as the bar served wine, port, champagne and what not (no beer) and tapas cheese and bread for nibblings. Or well, nibblings… after three chunks of bread, four large pieces of cheese, and a plate full of side salad Gabriel and I were more than well fed and my stomach is still about to pop now more than an hour later. Indoors all tables are in use from four pm on, as the barmaid said, and outdoors the large number of plastic tables and chairs cosily put underneath cloth covers were all occupied. Luckily I found two chairs all in the back of the lane and after wiping them dry we found ourselves a splendid spot, in the middle of towering old buildings, lit-up trees, in an oasis of chatter and cosiness amidst one of London’s most thriving and busiest places. French white wine, goat cheese, followed by blue cheese and hard yellow cheese, with memories of our summer university adventures and Icelandic travels shared, this all made for another lovely evening.

A swift cycle ride home, a phone call to Holland, some scribbling on the blog, and off to bed, with another day of bliss awaiting tomorrow. And it’s still not raining! 

Food

The quality of the picture on the right is more a reflection of the worth of David’s phone and by no means representative for what’s actually in there; awesome food. Which we have at least once a week (often more), either picked up from or nourished at the shabby -open kitchen- Pakistani place that despite its dilapidated looks provides a superb kind of food that none of the so called authentic Indian restaurants (including pushy guys that bother you with so-called special offers) can compete with – despite being twice as expensive. This mixed grill was enjoyed tremendously, a feast that does not necessitate the use of cutlery or audible approval beyond some satisfied grunts and humming. I already look forward to the next one. 

Bliss

Plenty of stories to be written down lest they are forgotten. Plenty of memories to be secured, and plenty of fun to be shared. Last night David and I had planned to go see a play at a theatre. The fiasco of my previous attempt to visit a play could have made me reluctant to do so, at least it should have made me more cautious in preparing the whole thing, but neither thing happened. The theatre was located somewhere in Shoreditch (15 min bike ride), or rather that was what I had in mind. It wasn’t. I had asked David to look up how to get there, and told him to meet me 45 minutes in advance downstairs in our apartment block. 55 minutes in advance I stumbled in from other day-time activities, rushed upstairs, changed clothes, and made my way down again, and off we went, to the tube station. It was then that I found out that the theatre was way farther than I had thought, and taking the tube would be a very close call, so to say. Particularly as the tube stations were closed for maintenance, as we found out. Angry with myself that I was about to miss my second theatre visit in two weeks’ time, annoyed that I had already paid for the tickets (unlike the previous time), I saw only one faint sliver of hope to make it in time; a cab. Faint as I didn’t know the exact whereabouts of the unit and sliver as a cab in central London isn’t all that faster than a bike. Be impulsive, take the gamble, tjop tjop and in a cab, move on dude we’re in a rush. Yes. We knew that the ring road would get use fairly close but apparently this guy had a short cut in mind, bumping over road bumps, stopping every other minute in front of a red traffic light, mesmerised by the tune the radio played, he couldn’t be further from our anxious state of mind to get there in time. Two minutes before the play was about to start he pulls up in front of the theatre. David pushes twenty pounds in his hands, we rush up the stairs, collect our tickets, and as we stumble into the foyer the doors open and without a blink or the need to pause we are among the first ones to enter the theatre and secure the best places.  

But that was not all that Saturday had to offer. During the day I ran 11 miles with Dana, after which she prepared a fantastic lunch, to which I made a significant contribution by cutting up the onions. And the avocado. The dessert, which was going to be a homemade apple pie, was something I had to let go of because of above-described theatre plans. The run itself was bliss and glamour in its own right, jogging along the canal, with meadows and forest on either side, and small boats passing us by, whose inhabitants keep the cold out by burning wood and coal. And a grin on my face from time to time, when I look straight ahead and see Dana jogging a few metres ahead of me, the bottle of water from which she drinks an aggregate mouthful during the entire run dangling in a sock attached to the Indiana-Jones lookalike belt she uses for that single purpose (see picture).

The late evening after all the theatre adventure was the perfect way to end a lovely Saturday, watching a movie with Vasiliki and her housemate at their place, relaxed and cosy and warm. I also got to meet Vasiliki’s mom for the second time (after a brief encounter in Tilburg some years ago) and I was pleasantly surprised that she had increased her level of English from non-existent to basic! You are never too old to learn indeed, and it was great to be able to exchange a few words with her.

Now it’s Sunday morning eh afternoon I must say and it’s another clear blue sky that would make me feel very guilty if I stayed in. Coffee with Marry (how I will call Marijn henceforth) in brick lane is an option, plus some shopping with David. Unscheduled Sundays are the best, as are their lazy mornings. Lets finish with a brief description of the previous week; Monday pancakes with Marry & Jochem, Tuesday dinner and chilling out with Vasiliki, Wednesday having had Alex over i.e. pubs food and beers in The City, Thursday movie night with Marry & David, and Friday after work beers with Marry and David, plus some whiskey later on to feature the so called cherry on the cake. Let’s see whether the upcoming week is going to be as joyful!  

The Ravens

Every Thursday around a quarter to one in the afternoon I take up my bag of sports clothes and descend down the basement to prepare for my weekly hour of suffering. The first time that I joined the ‘Ravens’ i.e. the runners’ association of people mainly from the banking and insurance industry in The City I was, so to say, slightly overconfident. After all I consider myself a decent sportsman, and running and cycling have always been sports I have performed adequately at. Now consider that, though be it once a week, I kept my running skills somewhat polished over the past year, the awesomeness of my new running shoes I bought on my first day in London, and that the average participant hadn’t seen that fewer springs than my dad in their life, I thought it wouldn’t be such a challenge jogging along. To put the last part into perspective; I’m the youngest out of the say 25 people to gather every Thursday at the canal beyond Tower Bridge. The youngest and one of the slowest. Agony! I tell you, pain! Well it’s not that bad, but it’s quite a realisation being outrun by 50-year olds while you’re really trying your best. The thing is that, as a warming-up and cooling-down, we run 5 k (2,5 there 2,5 back) to the place where the actual exercise takes place. Then, you run six times a kilometre, for which the maximum time you can take is five minutes per track. So if you take four you have 1 minute to rest, etc. Now these guys take a bit over three minutes for each kilometre, while I’m very satisfied when I’m among the last ones reaching 3 and a half. Panting, sweating, struggling for oxygen, I find myself bending over the railings of the canal after each run, while the guys count down out loud the second before the fun starts again. Well to be honest it is fun, otherwise I wouldn’t do it. And it’s a means to an end as well, as I get to meet new people from all over, socialise a bit, and get more acquainted with my colleagues from other departments. Passing by one of the guys who's usually in for the run last Thursday gave me the feeling I had blended in fairly well, as the British polite tone of voice had changed to something more natural. He referred to last week's run, when we did the 5k race, and one of the organisers told me afterwards I shouldn't be able to sprint the last 50 meters as it was in indication I hadn't given everything the 4950 meters prior to that. "Gonna give t all this time eh? Didn't he tell you that you could've run faster? He told you to f*ck off didn't he?" A hint of a grin on his face, and a broad one on mine. It felt as if I had become part of it all. And off I went, downstairs, to change quickly and start the challenge. And I must admit,  11 km of pain in an hour’s lunch break makes the prospect of 11 miles with Dana this Saturday morning less daunting.

An analysis

It has been over three weeks that I have been living in London now, and something is missing. I couldn’t really name it, neither was I really fully aware of it, but whilst running along the Thames this evening after work things got somewhat clearer to me. Please don’t get me wrong, I fully enjoy my time here, and I really hope for a permanent placement at the desk I am currently working, so that I can enjoy living in London for the upcoming three years or so, but what is missing is the thrill of living in an entirely different country. Because it is not entirely different. Because it’s a Western, developed world that I live in here. Because the other places I lived do not compare to this world, to the Netherlands or to England. Spoiled Dutch guy who thinks he has seen it all? I wouldn’t say so. Put me in Jakarta or Santiago or Lagos and I would experience comparable or even more stringent adapting processes as when I started my life in India or China, respectively. But London is different from that, and too much of the same compared with home to really, really, feel abroad.

Take language. For the first time I don’t have to use awkward gestures, written symbols, or mimic animal sounds to make myself clear to people around me. I don’t have to dig deep to scramble up some German to complement the three words of Polish I remember, or whistle like a locomotive to make sure the Chinese taxi driver knows I’m heading for the train station. I can understand the people passing by in the street, I can understand fellow grocery-shoppers at Tesco, and I can understand the shopkeeper mumbling the charged amount for my bar of snickers. It made me feel more alien in the Polish Tesco when I had no clue what the people around me were chatting about, and it enhanced the feel of adventure, of a different world. Here people either know I’m Dutch and take me for an expat, or they genuinely think I’m English. Language could not be less of a barrier here, which makes life very easy, but also takes away some of the adventurous vibe, so to say.

Take money (purchasing power). Sure, I cannot use Euros, but for the first time my Euros are actually worth less than the common currency. London is a more expensive place than any place at home, and that is new to me. Where a sliver of my savings money could get me three dinners in India, per week, and withdrawing five Euros from the bankomat in Poland got me through a night of clubbing, here spending Pounds as if they are Euros still makes things feel expensive. It’s different from what I had been used to, and it makes me stand out less.

Cops nor the guy checking your tickets on the train are bribed here, stray dogs are neither cherished (India) nor eaten (China), and unlike in Poland bums here don’t grow metre long beards. London is as developed and rich as towns back home, and I am less intrigued by its dwellers. It’s a magnet for people from all over the world, and one of the cities with most nationalities (after A’dam eh Dana ;)). Spanish, Indians, Pakistani, Italians, Greeks, Bangladeshi, Australians; they all flock here for work or travels, and the city is welcoming all. Which makes you not stand out as a foreigner, not at all. Katowice, having been voted for as the ugliest city of Poland, didn’t attract any tourists, and neither did New Delhi really. Sanmenxia no one has even heard of. So my appearance there was something of a curiosity, while here it’s as common as a Barclays bike in Eastern London. So the many nationalities here make it less special in terms of a foreign experience. And the real English life style is not something to marvel about for months, it’s not that weird to comprehend. Definitely I want to engage more in it, explore the country side, get to know the nation better, but it’s still Europe, and it will never intrigue me as much as cultures in the Far East have intrigued me. And sure, London’s big, it’s really big, but it still has less than half the population of New Delhi. It’s not overpowering.

Take social life. Basically all my evenings are filled with people I like and love, but very few of them I didn’t know in advance and were living here already, I have met at work and are Dutch, or are visiting me. Because of this I am not forced to invest in new friends, to bridge the gap of cultures as I had to do in China, to hang out in hostels just to meet fellow travellers during the weekend. My social life is a continuation of my life pre London and it doesn’t add to the authenticy of it all. Unlike in my other foreign adventures I get visitors, and unlike before I could be back in the Netherlands within two hours. Different.

My mind was full of examples while running but now I ran out of more inspiration and although I know that saving the file, reading it later, improving it, adding to it, and posting it then will enhance the quality, I put it online anyway now. Satisfier, not maximiser, that’s one thing I learnt about myself this year. Soon more, perhaps even better too. Good night.

My purpose is indeed a horse of that colour

What a week, what a telling tale of my London life, so vibrant and dynamic, so full of social life, culture and art, delicious food and drinks! A brief overview follows.

Monday. Monday was awesome. It already feels like a month ago but it’s really only last Monday that I boarded a train to Watford to go running with lady Dana. In my suit, on the train, with a large Tesco ‘save the rainforest’ bag that contained my sports gear, shoes, and what not. Once arrived I was pretty sure this ought not to be called ‘London’ anymore but apparently the village of Watford is part of greater London and thus I ended up running in a forest, in London. But how awesome was that! Lots of greenery, parks, forest, hills; English countryside really. And pouring rain to accompany us for the last 30 minutes, great treat that was too. Dana has a decent pace so it was actually a good exercise as well, plenty of reason to go again for the all-famous ‘canal run’. Ostensible returning subject of conversation of Watford’s most dedicated runners. Returning to her house a warm shower and a lovely meal awaited me, enhancing the appeal of re-doing the entire experience. The (expensive) train journey back late in the evening plus the fair distance by bike through nightly London were less appreciated but that’s the price you pay for sports in the forest when you live in Whitechapel.

Tuesday was actually scheduled Tony-time, which basically entails a couch, a lot of tasty food, music / television / movie, and no people around. Well, that was the plan, but Dana’s (again her) invitation to join a birthday party of a friend of hers in a pub somewhere far from where I live was too tempting to neglect and thus David and I took the tube for some pints and an evening full of chatter and laughter. No elaboration.

Wednesday I watched ‘twelfth night’ by Shakespeare at the Globe, a stunning three hour play that I enjoyed most thoroughly. Fun fact is that the majority of the spectators had to withstand the rain whilst watching men dressed as women and men dressed as knights kissing and fighting each other while I was sitting comfortable on my wooden bench shielded by a roof. Despite its ancient feel, the Globe isn’t as old as it pretends to be, as my colleague Tim said that “the building wasn’t there when I first came to London”, and I wouldn’t go as far as saying that he’s THAT old. He already calls me a straight talker and I’m, naturally, behaving spotlessly hitherto, particularly at work. I even learnt a new sentence that’s already one of my favourites and thus made it to the title of this update. Meaning would be ‘yeah I pretty much intend to do that indeed’ but then in old English. How cool!

Thursday was all about food. Lunch out, barbeque and drinks at the office after work, and thereafter out for dinner, the former and the latter accompanying Lotte to check out venues for the upcoming business course. Nice taste of what bliss is going to take place the end of November!

The weekend, finally, was full of Bo, who arrived Friday evening after what felt like months apart while it really has only been three weeks. Fortunately she’s back in another two and a half so that ought to be manageable. Soaking wet and beaming with job we had Indian eh Pakistani food Friday before heading to Jaguar Shoes which is becoming one of my favourite bars already. The play by Charles Dickens that we reserved tickets for on Saturday happened to be at the other side of the city, really, and as half the tube lines were under construction I decided for a pleasant hour and a half bike ride through central London. The Barclays bikes have been treating me very well so far so I thought a bit of exercise and sightseeing made a blissful combination and thus we set off well in advance so that in case we took a wrong turn or two plenty of flexibility would guarantee us a timely arrival at said location. So far so good, as indeed over half an hour early we gazed up at the pretty mansion that hosts a pub on the ground floor and a theatre below, after a satisfying and lengthy bike ride. Well, you may understand, that the bikes have to be returned to these units, and once you click ‘em into one of these units, the system knows you have returned your rental bike and they don’t charge you 250 pounds for renting a bike infinitely. And these units, so to say, are as plentiful in East London as bums in Katowice or moustaches in Delhi, as you cannot take a turn here in the streets without bumping into one. Thus I presumed this was the case in all of central London, which it wasn’t. So, in the end, we end up looking for these racks for over an hour, we missed the show, and had to cycle back towards the last location where I had seen the stations. Frustration all over, but that was quickly washed away with a few pints and a cocktail thereafter with a stunning view over St Pauls Cathedral.

By now I really feel like going to sleep as tomorrow will be an early day full of ardent work and zealous dedication. Soon more and better!