Midnight Mass

Prince Charles and Lady Diana were married here.

Winston Churchill's funeral was held here.

I became a Christian here?

I went to midnight mass at St. Paul's Cathedral on Christmas Eve. Singing Christmas carols, hugging my neighbors and saying "in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit" made me feel good!

However, I had an awkward moment with a priest. In all my holiday fervor, I decided to partake in the communion. As I joined the procession, I saw the wafers and wine and realized that I didn't want to tongue kiss thousands of people. So as the priest extended the chalice of wine closer and closer towards me... I backed away and finally made a face to communicate my discomfort. He then recommended that I simply dip my wafer into the germy glass. This was an acceptable compromise for me...  As usual, my smoothness did not go unnoticed. A few people gave me funny looks as though I had rejected god (a bit severe I thought). I felt as though I should go into a naughty corner for a few minutes, but quickly ushered my way out of sight as I left the church.

The experience was utterly magnificent.

10 Gales

Once upon a time a woman found herself extremely pressed for time. 

The woman prepared for Christmas by buying all the fixings for a robust turkey dinner, mailing out holiday cards to loved ones and putting up decorations with flair. A few days before Christmas, she also moved into a new flat, attended a conference with her new employer and tried her best to partake in a few holiday festivities (mulled wine anyone?).

Amidst all the holiday hubbub, how can one shop for seasonal styles, get a hair cut, grab a hot bevy or seek cultural enlightenment???

With a stroke of multitasking genius, the woman went to 10 Gales, a vintage store/coffee bar/hair salon/art gallery. Before long, she was off and on with her day as she emerged from 10 Gales with a newly designed coiff, a simmering coco, a pre-loved necklace and a nod to the 10 Gales curator.

Rejoice, O modern woman, in thy time-sensitive glory!

The Miserable Ones

My primal self did not want to see Les Misérables. My artistic self even feared that this production would be a chore to watch. After all, it was about the French Revolution and based on Victor Hugo's 1862 French novel... Yawn. However, I felt that I should go despite my hesitations. So here's what happened:


Enter Shaftsbury Theatre.
Dim the lights.
Draw the curtain.
Enter France 1815...

I DREAMED A DREAM (song from Les Mis)
There was a time when men were kind
When their voices were soft
And their words inviting
There was a time when love was blind
And the world was a song
And the song was exciting
There was a time
Then it all went wrong

My heart softened while watching this journey of redemption. It's clear to see that if only we weren't seeking greatness, we are all capable of such greatness. For anyone who has wanted to reach just a little further, let this story find its way to you.

You're Not Stuck In Traffic, You Are Traffic

What a great billboard, right? Although, perhaps not the first thing you want to see while you're gridlocked in the city.

Here's another great display of English signage...

Gags to Gala

In preparation for my office Christmas party, I was mandated to find (1) a funny secret-Santa gift and (2) a fancy frock (they take their office parties very seriously in London). However, I don't leave the office until 5:30pm and since most shops close during the weekday at 6pm or 7pm... I soon found myself in a single shop tasked with finding both gag gift and party dress. Most stores that boast both of these items tend to be less than tasteful, but I lucked out because I was in a shop called, "JOY". 

The store lauds itself as a delightful collection of unique women’s and men’s clothing and accessories, plus an eclectic mix of fun and quirky gifts.

I walked out with a dress, a mug that read "Office Bitch" on the base and was never once mistaken for a lady of the night. Now that's classy!

Crackin' Ribs

This weekend I went to the Victoria and Albert Art Museum. Not only was the collection expansive, but it was incredibly interactive. The structure was such that each exhibit was followed by a reflection lounge. In this space, visitors can learn more about specific artists, artistic styles and historical references and even touch replicas of period costumes and jewels. There are also drawing rooms setup for inspired visitors to sketch or leave notes to communicate their gallery experience. 

I personally took a liking to the corset & crinoline.

Did You Just Say Tampon?

Raunchiest pick-up line I've heard to date: I'd love to be a tampon and just sit inside of you.

Stones

In London, it's common to measure ones weight in stones. Here's the conversion:

1 STONE = 14 POUNDS

Now, I weigh 8 stones. And as far as I can see, this is a great practice to adopt over the holidays because weight in pounds is a bit too exact. With stones, I can overindulge. This system allows for so much variation within each weight class, I could eat my way through the holidays without ever gaining a stone!

Did I mention that much of the UK is overweight?

Nibbling on my toe?

A big craze in London for the moment is the Garra Rufa pedicure. Like with most pedicures, your foot is massaged, cleaned and exfoliated. However, the task is not completed by a little Korean woman, but rather a type of fish that feeds on dead skin - Garra Rufa.

Born and bred in the scummy underbelly of Turkish spas, this practice is banned in many parts of the world including most of Canada.

Submerging your feet into a pool of slithering fish anxiously awaiting the feast that is your flesh - that gives me the heebie-jeebie's!

SNOW!

It's snowing in London!

And it's exactly like Vancouver. The tiniest amount of snow gives rise to crazy drivers, public transport issues and after a few inches (okay, centimeters)... A city-wide shut down. Ah, I feel at home...

Harrow

Last week, I quite literally lost my way and found myself on the grounds of Harrow School. This famous boarding school was founded in 1572 and includes alumni such as Winston Churchill, 6 British Prime Ministers and the 1st Prime Minister of India.

As hoards of little boys armored with straw hats and foul mouths spilled onto and over the footpath, I reveled in an incredibly stereotypical moment - I was amidst a heard of lads! My undressed head peered above all others as I realized that I was very far away from home. 

London is definitely not limited to the images it inspires, but it's rich history and traditional past mean some of it's most famous characteristics remain exactly as you would imagine. 

Mentioning Unmentionables

A woman sits down next to her boss on her first day.

She is new to the city and is in need of a dry cleaner, so seeks advice/makes small talk by explaining:

These are my nice black pants so I've got to find a dry cleaner right away. I only dry clean my pants. 

The woman notices an awkward reception when the boss is unable to offer assistance. While recounting the strange exchange with a friend later that evening, the woman learns that the term "trousers" is used to describe pants in the UK. And simply stating "pants" only references underwear.

Don't make love to it, FUCK IT!

My roomies had a huge family dinner tonight and I was the honorary family member. Always eager to make a splash, I decided to contribute by preparing a classic apple pie (everyone keeps calling me American Girl anyways!).

I am not a strong baker. I have not yet mastered my new stove. And I did not know anyone at this party. Pie potential was at an all-time low.

With a thin coating of flower dusted all over me, guests made their way into the kitchen to introduce themselves, so I was both flattered and annoyed by the distraction. In between introductions, I managed to line the pie plate, slice the apples and get all remaining ingredients into a saucepan. Of course, just as I lit the fire beneath the saucepan, my roommates boisterous aunt walks in. Here's how it went down:

Aunt: Sheila, you making dessert? What will you serve with that pie?
Shelly: Nothing.
Aunt: Humph. Exit Aunt.
Shelly: Return Aunt. Do you think I should have something on the side?
Aunt: I don't think so. Long pause. I KNOW SO!
Shelly: ...
Aunt: Here's some custard child. Use it well, Sheila.
Shelly: Thanks. And it's actually Shelly. Shelly giggles (nervously).
Aunt: What? You know I am talking to you. I'm looking at you, so I'm talking to you. Sheila, Shelly, whatever. Whatever, whatever. Aunt does not giggle. Exit Aunt.

What the hell was that@*!? Forget it. Back to baking...

Gasp! My pie ingredients were starting to stick to the saucepan! Nobody wants a smokey-flavoured apple pie! So how does one save a sauce that is threatening to stick and burn? Stir! Stir, scrape and stir! Stir like you've never stirred before! C'mon, don't make love to it, FUCK IT!

Soon the sauce was saved, pie baked and fear of aunt fading? Exhale.

Ever heard of Guy Fawkes?

All weekend I saw fireworks glitter the sky, Indian sweet shops bustling and seriously bedazzled women. Diwali was huge in London. And a perfect way to celebrate my foray into Indian cooking and full-on cultural immersion. I wondered if a nose ring would be a suitable next step for a burgeoning desi like myself?

Diwali is huge in London? Yes, but it normally doesn't take over the streets all weekend like it did this year. A friend clued me in on the following: On November 5th, 1605 an English mercenary named Guy Fawkes attempted to assassinate the king, blow up parliament and restore the Catholic monarch in his now infamous Gunpowder Plot. Today, November 5th commemorates Fawkes' execution with fireworks and is popularly known as Bonfire Night.

Bonfire Night and Diwali (as it's based on the lunar calendar) fell on the same day this year. So while Diwali is a big deal out here, this year's festivities were magnified by overlapping events.

Good thing I didn't get a nose ring. 

Happy Diwali!

The constant, yet rhythm-less crackling of fireworks were definitely the soundtrack to my day today. As Hindus around the world celebrate the triumph of good over evil and prepare to ring in the New Year, I was inspired to pray. Not only that, I also dined on vegetarian fare and even made my first prasad - punjiri!

Book Crossing

In order to feel at home and part of my surrounding community, I decided to open a library account. Turns out reading in London can be quite expensive...

London Library: £16,800 annual membership (I'll think about it...)

British Library: £675 annual membership (Getting closer...)

Stratford Library: Free (But I now knew how the "other half" read...)

As I left the library, I spotted a Book Crossing book! A friend filled me in on this great project where people attach Book Crossing labels onto books and leave them around cities for others to pick-up, read and repeat. It's a global library and the label can be used to track how far the book has travelled. The book I found was liberated today by the author.

Pasaje del Terror

So when my newly refurbished friend suggested that we celebrate Halloween at a haunted house, I scoffed at the idea. However, in the spirit of compromise, I obliged and entered the Pasaje del Terror. The haunting began with a 30-minute Jack the Ripper film after which we were led into a creepy maze complete with an exorcist, Freddy Krueger and "pop-out-from-nowhere" crypt keeper. Heavier on the spoof than the spook, this was definitely the best haunted house I’d ever seen! Caught up in the fervour of suspense, I found myself running down hallways, screaming (or laughing) with strangers and feeling the intensity of childhood hijinks. It was a rush I hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Tomorrow, I'll have lunch in a crowded cafe and ask the person sitting next to me if they want to trade. 

London's Green Markets

I love to eat. I'm learning to love cooking.

This has led to my getting very well acquainted with the local growers and markets in the neighbourhood. It's also led to my disappointment as I was accosted for bad behavior at my local Green Market (aka. fresh produce store). 

Ever gone to a grocery store, picked up a plastic baggy and filled it with produce? Well, this is not how it works in London.

Here, the shop-keeper will walk along with you and pick and pack your desired selections. Unaware of this state of affairs, I was received as yet another impatient and demanding American whose wrist should be slapped for over-anxiously rummaging through the produce selections. The apron clad shop keeper at the Green Market closest to my home definitely does not care for me... But he hasn't seen the last of me either!

Landing in London

I blew into town at 7:30am on October 23rd, 2010 and immediately rode the rail into Central London.

As I waded through the bustling Victoria station, I was confronted with the fact that I didn't know anyone in this big, busy city. Even more daunting, I noticed that there were no elevators to help me haul my over-sized luggage underground into the tube station (the Tube is London's amazing metro system). Feeling alone and exhausted from a long journey, I screamed when I literally bumped into a familiar face - Sarah!!!

Sarah is an old high school friend I lost contact with immediately after graduation. She arrived a month earlier to pursue her Masters in Healthcare Administration. Always a smart cookie, she introduced me to My So Called Life and Nirvana when all i knew was Beverly Hills 90210 and MC Hammer - Thank god for this woman!

Friend #1 - sweet :)

London eh? Or London Oye?

Just to clarify, I'm in London, England. Ya know, the UK. A few people were under the impression I had moved to London, Ontario.

Moving to London

So for pretty much my entire adult life I've carried with me a desire to live and work abroad. Not a vacation - I spent nearly half a year travelling across Western Europe - but my real life transplanted into a new city.

The plan was clear, yet it never became more than an idea lurking deep in the crevices of my mind. A parenthesis that only garnered serious consideration after vacations or upon meeting expats who had made the move. After a while, the plan got shelved and life went on.

As I entered my 30s, everything seemed great on the surface - promising career, good friends and a supportive family. Life wasn't bad, just a little bland. Interestingly, I'm a huge over-reactor, so I freaked at the daunting prospect of posing the "What If..." question for the rest of my life and decided to move to London!