10/10/09
Location: Holiday Inn City Centre, Essen, Deutschland
Topic: first days in London
What to say about a city such as London? Surely every nook and cranny has been exposed, written about, evaluated and deconstructed in one of the most influential and visited cities in the world. The bigger the city the quicker the evolution, and from various chat’s to various people, it seems London is as multi-faceted as the people that live there. A city for anyone, in whatever their timeframe.
Perhaps Christin put it best while we were talking about multiculturalism. Always thinking Melbourne was multicultural, it definitely has elements of many cultures, but they’re noticeably Australian-ised. Ethnic communities celebrate their values, but they’re that bit more “watered down”, so to speak, compared to London. It’s raw, it’s real, it’s in your face, and with that kind of backing in the soup of cultures which swim around London, it’s inevitable a dynamic, lively city exists - one which is full of contradictions, possibilities and experiences.
And yes - all this is obvious from only a day or two there - London’s brash like that.
My own experiences couldn’t have more along this line - but then, i did just justify myself with my own words. Travel writing is handy like that 
But it does give an insight into a gripe i had with London even before getting here.
My last visit was spectacular, but somewhat less in line with my character interests. After spending time in Berlin, by comparison, London felt stiff and “as expected”. But I threw this into the wind, believed the hype, ignored the cliches and thought “well, if everyone’s this passionate about getting me there - there must be a reason”. So this is visit number two….
and….wow!
From the moment I stepped off the plane, London was everything promised - and then some.
From the friendly lady at the Travelex, to my surprise welcome at the airport - and “pete pack” full of goodies, it took a few hours for my head to reach my body again. Based on Holloway Rd, in the edgier east/north/whatever of London, we headed down to the Spittelfield markets on Sunday morning, soaking up the sunshine. Stalls upon stalls full of goodies - amazing screen-printed t-shirts, jewellery and gourmet foods - this is stuff that wouldn’t be out of place in the funkiest of funky design shops. Brick Lane, squished with people of all ages, was colourful beyond belief, but luckily refuge is easily sought in any of the side streets, where phrases such as “thank-you stranger for your therapeutic smile” are written on the walls. Coffee served from strange places (a bus!), organic eateries and second-hand shops adorn the streets - the whole area is a Sunday institution for the hip - a place to whittle away the day with friends.
No rest for the wicked though - we continued south past White Chapel - literally a white church - stopping for salted meat in the Beigel Bake in which the prices are probably the only thing to have changed for decades. We head to a bar for coffee, then to Hoxton Square at a place i’ll never remember the name of (…) stopping in tiny art galleries where I really see London’s obsession for the newspaper in a new light - a parody of an entire issue of the Financial Times - “In a world of cold, harsh truth, we rescue stories from the fact.”
Seriously though - with all the different evening & morning papers, free and paid, it seems the London newspaper you read identifies you as much as the clothes you wear.
Monday was the rain i’d heard about - this drizzle London is famous for. We headed for Angel but were there too early for all the dainty little shops to be open. We popped into the Breakfast Club for a hearty and very well-priced meal. It seems to be the story with London - if you know where to go, eating out is surprisingly affordable.
The next big surprise happened inside Barclays. We ducked into a bank to see what I’d need to open an account, and 30 minutes later, I had myself an account. None of these horror stories usually associated with opening an infamously difficult UK bank account - there’s a few things that probably helped things along, and no doubt a fair amount of luck was in order, but it was fantastic to have one of the major hurdles of living in London dealt with so swiftly.
I caught the bus - by myself - back home. It’s always a different experience getting around on your own. You notice more, and delve into the life of the city easier - i felt more connected in those 20 minutes than since I landed.
Christin’s an amazing tour guide - i’d only know our final destination, not how we’d get there … so imagine my surprise as we emerge from the tube amongst huge neon advertisements, surrounded by hordes of people and realise where we are - Piccadilly Circus. It was only a short walk to…
…the amazing Inamo - a Japanese fusion restaurant with a twist - projectors mounted in the ceiling above the tables display textures & images on the table. You order your own food using the touchpad, and as you view each meal, it shows up on your plate - an area usually displaying a white circle in order to mimic a clean plate. There are interactive games, webcams into the kitchen and even a map which gives suggestions on where to go afterward. The darkened room makes the glow of the tables seem almost eerie. The food arrives quickly and is scrumptious - cinnamon chicken with lime and chilli, and a mushroom dish, all jam-packed with flavour and beautiful presentation.
With full bellies, we wandered the streets of Soho, nightlife buzzing even on a Monday night - bars upon bars, restaurants and everything - London thrives 24/7/365. We walk aimlessly, taking in the architecture, notable shops and people watch. The sheer history at street level is mind boggling - the things places such as The Strand have surely seen…
We duck into Cellardoor (?), literally a converted underground toilet block where tables have a minimum spend of 500 pounds - before the financial crisis, that is. It’s as unassuming a place on the outside as could be, but inside the lush interior, well-dressed people are drinking expensive cocktails where you’re just as likely to get a bartenders recommendation which isn’t on the menu, as you are to spy something you don’t even see often on menu’s - flavoured snuff. I head into the toilets featuring clear glass doors which turn frosted when they’re locked, and come out to be entertained by a Cabaret Show. Sitting too close to the drag queen, we made a run for it during the interval before we got singled out to participate again.
Tuesday was a day full of extremes - grabbing a 2 pound croissant and coffee on the way to the London Metropolitan University, Christin smuggled me into an advertising class with the amazing Dr Diana Luck. Feeling like being back at uni, i politely put up my hand and answered questions, feeling a little out of my league in the intellectual department, but thankful to have yet another slice of London life. We wandered to the Arsenal stadium quickly - a place i’d fear to tread during the right (or wrong) days, and caught a bus to City Road.
Not only home to the infamous Beerhouse, but directly across the road, to Jamie Olivers finest, Fifteen Restaurant. We tucked into a 2 and a half hour 3 course lunch - expensive, but the kind of place where you walk away so full, dinner is also taken care of. The food was superb, but the vibe of the place is the real drawcard - it feels relaxed, but not couch-comfortable. It falls just short of posh, but it’s not snobby. A gigantic rendition of a pig fills a wall, as does an elaborate graffiti piece of the word “Fifteen” - it celebrates it’s roots and doesn’t pretend to be something it’s not. Hints of uniqueness abound - dates printed on the menus, novelty bathroom signs and friendly, accessible waiters. It’s the kind of place you’d be welcome to order an exquisite red wine, followed by a pistachio milkshake and no one would bat an eyelid. They’ve nailed the atmosphere perfectly, and even though the pork dish was too fattening for my tastes, it was an experience never to forget. Oh, and an insider tip - order as many starters as possible - it’s where the real treats are.
Catching the tube to Hampstead’s wide, leafy streets, we wandered around the quaint and beautiful (in all the best British ways) streets of London’s poshest suburbs (ironically, full of pregnant women). Shops adorn only one side of the street - and some backstreets have a sunken road, revealing bluestone walls. The area has that certain style that never goes out of fashion. It’s an area made of money, and driveways - yes, driveways - are full of luxury European cars and enough Mini Coopers on the streets to think the area was sponsored. Small squares celebrating village life adorn the area - it’s strange to think this is part of London. And it’s a place where residents catch taxi’s to and from work to avoid parking and congestion charges - a place of money indeed.
As the light begins to fall, we head downhill. Literally. There’s less poshness halfway down the hill at Belsize Park, and it’s all but gone as we hit one of my favourite areas of London - the venerable Camden Town. Arriving from this side was a shock - we reach the Stables first, and pass a venue where we later find out Nikola was at - schmoozing with Johnny Depp and other celebs. One highlight from the last visit to London was the stables themselves - an area I wasn’t aware of, so a sense of “discovery” was felt. It was amazing to be back again - but with wallet firmly tucked away as we wandered Cyberdog, and a clothing store which was a strange fusion of industrial, western (as in, cowboys) and formal wear - with prices to match.
Seeing places like Criminal Damage, little backstreet bars and the lock, made me miss what i’d fantasised about in London - even, the mention of Kentish Town - an area where Alister lived , talked so passionately about his time in London, and ultimately had a huge influence on me coming back.
We caught the tube to Earl’s Court, and thus thrust into the western life of London - this is the London i came to know from my last visit. Pretty & clean, there’s history here, and we ducked into The Finborough to view some cultural theatre - Death and the Kit-Kat. It was confronting, hilarious and very entertaining and drew an artier crowd of people. The day’s walking got to me however, so i was largely lost for words on the way back, despite being surrounded by what seemed to be actual English-bred people.
Wednesday I had the morning to myself - writing a few emails and what not, and the infamous London weather reared its head again. As a result, the day became one of those aimlessly-wandering side-trip days, which are good for the soul. Too much to say, so let’s stick with dot points:
- Superdry in Covent Garden - strange to see a brand you love so much have such average clothing - except the jackets (and my new Double Black)
- Neal’s Yard - who killed the trees by pouring petrol on them? So London gets creative - creates their own trees where people can hang messages from - “This is your chance, This is your new beginning. This is London.”
- Bearfruit Nibbles - cute packaging of dried fruit.
- Central Perk - not in New York, but the line does go around the corner… and the next…
- Carnaby Street - keep me away from here until i’m earning the pound!
- Oxford St, Regent St - shop shop, Apple shop!
- Eat. Eat. Eat. EAT!!!! Wurst & crusty sourdough bread. Nomtastic!
Dinner was Tapas with Christin’s friends - and with Taste London cards and 5 beers for 10 pounds, was cheaper than anything comparable to Melbourne. The night ended in a slightly dizzy state at a university night party - having a boogie, and Midori girls ploughing the crowd full of drinks.
As always, while drinking, mother nature tortures you the next day by giving you blue sky and sun, sun, glorious sun. The sadness hit me - it was Thursday, and i was leaving for Germany the next day. After yet another amazing & elaborate breakfast at home, we headed off to the famous Borough Markets - tasting exquisite cheeses, viewing dripping gross cheeses, chasing pigeons, and seeing my first squirrel - incredibly cute! We popped into a German Delicatessen where i got a bit too excited about many long-forgotten brands, and then began the long, lazy walk along the Thames River.
The plan was to visit the Design Museum, but with weather like this, it was criminal to stay inside, so as we wandered along, taking in the sights of the Tower Bridge, to St Pauls, to the London Eye, I had my first run-in with a hustle.
A few street-savvy kids had a cardboard box setup with 3 hockey-puck sized pieces of foam. He was doing the whole “guess which one is white underneath it”, by passing them back and forth, over and under, and speaking in a monotone voice. It was 20 pounds to guess which of the three had the white underneath, and if you won - you got 40 pounds. So we played silently - and watched. After guessing right many times in a row, I decided to put my money where my mouth was - and after only 2 games, inexplicably had lost twice. I can’t figure it out for the life of me how he did it - some kind of switch, i don’t know. Clearly a street hustle, we left, and vowed to look on Youtube as to how it was done. Sleight of hand, I don’t know - he wasn’t even moving quickly, and the only thought that seemed possible was that while the 20 pounds was on the table and he tucked it into his pocket, the switch happened then during the distraction.
Anyway, we wandered to the Eye, found a wallet (without 40 quid unfortunately), and gave it to a cafe, passed a zillion street performers, wandered past Westminster, along Whitehall, past Downing Street, through Trafalgar Square and to Paul - a french bakery with the most exquisite pastries. Warm lighting, superbly heavy furniture and hand-painted feature tiles on the walls make for an authentic French experience, and in a city such as London, you’d have no idea it was actually a chain - as I later found out in Prague of all places! Just don’t even get me started on the bacon-twist roll thing….mmmmmmm…
We headed back to Covent Garden as the light was fading to meet one of Christin’s friends - wandering through more market stalls and the covered area of Covent Garden itself had an opera singer taking advantage of the stunning acoustics.
Dinner was at the infamous Beerhouse - and meeting Nikola for the first time since Australia. The atmosphere was suitably boisterous and typical of the Bavarian cliche. My eyes were bigger than my stomach though - who am i kidding for leberkase, 1 litre beer glasses, jager bombs and feiglings - no wonder I felt a little left of centre the next day. Clear highlight though? Sweet mustard. Sweet sweet mustard.
Friday morning was sullen - it was sad to leave, especially after the bumper week we had, and printing tickets, checking map hotels and repacking for Germany took up most of the morning.
Next stop - Essen, Germany for Maschinenfest!
