altera ego

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Back in Montreal!

It’s now 5:45 Montreal time and I have been wide awake for the past 45 minutes. I’ve decided to relate how my trip has ended and, to my dismay, have discovered that I now have trouble with my keyboard… Quite annoying, such switches.

I will begin in chronological order.

Friday, my second to last day, I decided to get out of the center of London. I was not much in the mood for crowds and buildings. I was considering going to Oxford or Cambridge to check out those old schools that house old dreams of mine of studying Eng Lit in the UK, but instead I went to Maidenhead, a suburb to the West of London that not many people have heard about as I had before the time I got in touch with Marc-André on Facebook. We went to high school together and hadn’t seen each other since graduation. I spent the afternoon at his quaint suburban home and we chatted about London, the programming business, and caught up on the past years. I met his wife, a lovely woman. He is a father of one. The last time I saw him, he didn’t speak English.

By 6 PM I was at Canary Warf to pick Claire up from work. It is the most horrible part of London. Developed only recently, it is East of the old financial district and set like a peninsula in part of land surrounded by the Thames. I believe it used to be a port. Now, there is nothing but tall glass buildings. A landscape of glass buildings is a very barren view, one that the few posh pubs that line its ground surface, there to serve the hard-working anybodies in a suit, do not succeed at livening up. It was horrible. I also noticed that the tube stations in that area, just as at Westminster (the most tourist one), all have glass casing along the platform, separating the platform (people) from the train lines and wagon. The glass casing is equipped with doors that open and close as the tube wagons’ doors do. I described them to Claire as the Anti-suicide stations, which made her laugh. I am nonetheless convinced of it, all the more so seeing where these anti-suicide stations (or anti-pushing someone on the rails) are located.

After that we joined Pinakin in Soho for supper and a drink. Guy joined us a little later and we ended up drinking a bit more than expected. We found a club (not a pub, that stop serving at 11 PM) and busied ourselves on the dance floor. We had quite a good time. So much so that the next day, Claire and I pretty much stayed in and took it easy until later afternoon. Saturday night, I had supper with Matthew.

We met at Waterloo station. Matthew had been reading my blog so he knew what I had done (“You’ve done quite a bit!”), and had decided to show me a bit of London that my itinerary had neglected: Covent Gardens. We crossed over on a pedestrian bridge that has, in his opinion, the best view of London. On it there is a plaque that represents the Northern skyline and identifies the buildings. Covent Gardens is on the North shore of the Thames. It is indeed cute, but unfortunately in an overdone way. The old fruit market looks much like the village houses at Tremblant: renovated to look old. The area was mostly busy with tourists (Matthew had worn me about that on the bridge). A mix of restaurants and cobble stones, theatres and pubs. We had a drink and then went for supper in an Indian restaurant. He asked me about my opinions of London (had my thoughts on the food changed?) and we generally conversed about life in London and its surroundings. By ten past 11 he had to scoot off to catch his train and I was forced to walk through the neighborhood because the closest tube station was closed. Strangely, I heard more French (from France) in that area than English.

The next day Claire and I did some shopping so that I could get the last things on my list. We went down to Piccadilly Circus first and then made our way to Camden Town, where Pinakin lives. He came to join us at the tube station and accompanied us to his home (which he owns) before meeting his buddy Russ at a close by pub. After a meal and some drinks, we walked to Camden Market where I was told that I would be able to buy my brother’s extremely vague request of “something cool from London.” Now, my co-worker Michael had told me that Soho on a Saturday night was like the first scene in Blade-Runner. I went to Soho twice at night and could not see it. But Camden Market, even in the light of day, could have very well been the inspiration for that set. Pinakin told me that 10-15 years ago, the market was much smaller. It was located about old stables, and it eventually grew and morphed into a maze of alternative clothes shops, food stalls, antique stores and electronic music booths. I did indeed find there my brother’s “cool London” souvenir.

By the time we finished shopping, Russ had left us. Pinakin, Claire and I went to a pub where we drank and had supper. I liked the place quite a bit. I believe I like the neighborhood quite a bit also. It was like St-Henri, with it’s rich and poor, posh and marginal. Afterwards we went back to Pinakin’s, where we played some music and generally had a good time and stayed too late. (“Putain, il est minuit et dix!”) I’m glad I spent my last evening in London in their company.

The next morning (yesterday), it was cold and raining. I had stayed up later then Claire, doing my best at trying to get my luggage closed. I eventually succeeded, but the suitcase was too heavy and off balance, so the little trolley wheels didn’t quite work. With a broken heavy suitcase and an over-bulging packsack and purse, I slowly made my way to the tube station (sometimes carrying my suitcase, sometimes kicking it like a soccer ball, sometimes pulling it while walking backwards to be sure it was steady, and sometimes trying to push it along like an oversized curling stone), then transferred to another line, then made my way through the train station where a train would bring me to the airport. By the time I checked my luggage I was tired, sweaty, and my hands hurt. I was even glad that I had to check my packsack because the lighter my load, the better! I boarded the plane at 1PM and we took off at 1:30 on what has been the longest plane ride I have ever taken. By 11 PM I was in Montreal (6 PM Montreal time), and I fell asleep like a log three hours later.

I still have to unpack. I should do that now. Last night I basically gave Ben his gifts and showed him the last of my pictures. It’s strange to be back. It smells different here. It smells something I like. Maybe due to the fact that this city has so many trees? And it is much warmer in Montreal than it is now in London. It’ll be strange to be back at work (in 2 hours!). I must say, I really did enjoy my holiday.

Friday, September 21, 2007

Garbage in the Tube

Wednesday I had my lunch at the gate of Westminster Abbey. I had to rush off to get to the Globe, so I did not walk the 50 steps to throw my trash away into the bin near the entrance, figuring that I would dispose of my leftovers in a trash can along the way. None were to be found. I made my way past the Houses of Parliament, to the Westminster tube station, down in the tube on the platform, and still I hadn’t encountered one. I asked a security guard about it and he replied that there hadn’t been any trash cans in tube stations for the last 25 years for security reasons. Seeing me with my hands full of rubbish, he told me to simply leave it on the banister that stretched out along the platform wall. “Someone will come to pick it up. The stations are cleaned every half hour.” I can hardly believe that to be the case for every station because some don’t look so clean. Then again, I might have mistaken cleanliness with run-down. Nevertheless, in a London tube, it is strangely not frowned upon to litter. I guess, better safe than sorry.

This reminds me of a random act of kindness I saw on the tube that same day after the play. A woman on the platform was coughing something horrible. A young man, a stranger I presume, offered her what was left of his bottled water. She took it and thanked him. She asked him if he wanted it back; he said “no.” Grant it, I wouldn’t have taken it back, but then again I wouldn’t have offered it to her in the first place…

Thursday, September 20, 2007

DAY 10... or is it DAY 11???

I am in London and I am home sick. I am very well surrounded with friends, acquaintances and chance encounters, yet I miss my bosom buddies from back home. Every day I do several interesting things, and am starting to feel tired of it. I don’t think my body functions all that well on vacation… Because I am in London, I don’t allow myself to laze around and read. So I “do something,” and don’t laze around and read. I am starting to understand how people return from holiday more tired than they were before leaving!

I usually set out at around noon. I bring a lunch, which saves me oodles of money (more on that later). Yesterday I was a bit tight to go to the National Portrait Museum before the matinee at the Globe, so I passed by Westminster Abbey instead. I didn’t go inside because the fee is 10 £ (about 20 $ CDN) and had little time, so I took a few pictures of the outside before heading towards the South bank.

The Globe is a recreation of the theatre where Shakespeare worked and presented his plays. It is set pretty much where the original Globe was located. It is an Elizabethean theatre made of wood (uncomfortable seats), with an open roof (if it rains, you and the actors get rained on, and pigeons eventually become part of the performance) with an expanded stage that spreads into the parterre, where the 5£ ticket holders (that’s me!) stand throughout the play (that’s right, the parterre has no seats). I saw Love’s Labour’s Lost, a comedy. The Globe seeks to recreate the spirit of Shakespeare’s plays as they were presented 450 years ago, which means that instead of being scruffy old Shakespeare as most imagine, the plays include music, singing and dancing, there is lots of room for burlesque type physical comedy, and in a whole they are “popular” and coarse (and in some cases, down right vulgar). Also, they encourage the audience to participate in the play, much as viewers used to do, voicing their pleasure or discontent directly to the actors. The standing for 3 hours was a bit rough, but well worth it! It was funny, the actors were engaging and generally I had a great time. They are also showing The Merchant of Venice now, which could be interesting to do this week-end.

Afterwards I practically forced myself upon Valentine (poor thing), a friend of Claire’s who studied Industrial Design in London and now works here. It is the international design happening and thanks to her I got to attend Design Boom, and exhibit of a bunch of young and upcoming designers, from ceramics, to lighting, to textiles. The venue was strange and enchanting: two old side-by-side factories, haphazard, unfinished and unpolished, where the works were exposed in corners, some at the end of labyrinth passages, painted up to suit the needs of the exposed pieces. My co-worker Mike, who had mentioned this design week to me, can now be seriously envious of me! There were people from everywhere, and the imagination and talent of some of these designers is simply amazing. And Valentina is a darling. A memorable evening.

This evening, Claire and I went to the reading & discussion of Jonathan Coe’s new book: The Rain Before it Falls. It took place is a big bookstore on Piccadilly. To my great surprise, this 3 £ event attracted no more than 40 attendees, many of whom seemed to be foreigners like myself. I asked J Coe about it at the end during the signing, and he said that the British audience prefers the biographical type novel. Apparently the turnout was very successful for London. He also said that his Italian audience is much more enthusiastic, and that 12,000 people showed up at his reading in Italy.

Today I walked around a rich department store, Harvey Nichols. I was looking for Harrods, but never fell upon it. HN is overpriced. The customers were mostly older women. Dom’s sister had suggested I go there to try out the sushi bar that’s on the top floor. To my surprise, the food court is filled with bio and fine imported foods. Quite interesting to browse around. As for the sushi, I had decided it would be my lunch. They seat you down along a counter that has a conveyor belt on which various sushi dishes are strolled along. The dishes are colour coded for pricing. The meal was delicious. The sushis did not crumble when bitten into, the fish melt in my mouth, and they had little bean paste treats for desert. The whole meal included miso soup, 5 little plates, and water, and it set me back 23 £ (about 50 $CDN). So from now on I think I’ll be making myself some more lunches…

Today I did get a chance to go to the National Portrait Gallery between HN and J Coe. I found the museum very interesting, but my mood was a bit dampened by a headache. Meanwhile, an official launch was taking place on the ground floor called “Confessions to a Serial Womaniser: Secrets of the World's Inspirational Women” by Jeroo Roy. This city is quite a busy one.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

My pics!

I've found them!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/82915402@N00/

I hope the link works with everybody.

Enjoy!

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

DAY 8: Beautiful London

A little while ago, I was discussing with Wolf and Denis M the practice of adding tunes to your iPod. I was saying that I was not used to listening to just a few songs form a particular artist, so that I still tended to put a whole album on my mp3 reader. Denis then said that he prefers listening to albums because the not-so-good songs balance out the good ones. He mentioned how he becomes sort of over-dosed with delight when there are too many songs he loves lined up one after the other for his hearing pleasure. At the time, I found his comment rather cute: it is such a Denis thing to say, to be over-dosed with delight. But here in London, where at every street corner I turn unto a new street as beautiful as the one I’ve just left, I at times feel overwhelmed with beauty and delight. The architecture is breathtaking. The streets, with their signs and cobble stones, are almost always pretty to the eye. And what isn’t pretty is it’s perfect opposite: scruffy, worn, street-chic. At times I feel like I’ve already seen it all, quite simply because London never cesses to offer up everything at once. When we’ve seen everything, do we really need to see more of it? To sicken ourselves on the beauty like children who eat too many sweets? And when it isn’t London proper, it is what it offers up. I went to see the Modern Japanese Crafts exhibit today at the British Museum: pottery, porcelain, lacquer of such beauty I could almost not contain myself. The exhibit is very small but very dense. My European friends don’t see London as I do. “Yes, but Claire, compare it too Montreal!” Indeed. Compared to Montreal, indeed.

I have been shopping. Nothing manic. I remained relatively contained. But it is quite difficult not to try everything on… just to try… And I’ve visited the Sherlock Holmes Museum and the Charles Dickens House Museum. I’ve eaten Fish & Chips, taken loads of pictures, went out in the East end (the “cool” spot for the new-grunge minded). I’ve visited Notting Hill, Soho, the South bank, the City, and Bloomsbury. Tomorrow, I plan to see “Love’s Labour’s Lost” at the Globe and would like to visit the National Portrait Gallery.

One last note for today: London is busy. It seems like there are people around, everywhere, all the time. To run into someone in the street is relatively common and, because it is a way of life here, people are still quite polite about it. It’s normal to run into people because they are all over the place!

Monday, September 17, 2007

Images are up

I have uploaded the images of my trip up until now on Flickr. I invite you to look them up, but don't ask me how to do it because I can't figure the dam thing out! And I have spent two hours uploading them, which is wwwaaaayyyyyy too much time for a girl on vacation who's suppose to be enjoying London and not getting frustrated at some stupid web site. So, good luck! Anybody with some words of wisdom are welcome to share them...

Saturday, September 15, 2007

Thames Festival & Brick Lane

I think I’m dehydrated. And I think I may be a bit mal nourished. The food is a bit weird here. It’s generally quite greasy, and it seems like the grease most used is lard. I bought a loaf of brown grain bread at an outdoor market, and the bread is fairly gross. Claire says that it smells like French fries. Imagine eating bread that smells like French fries!

This week-end there’s the Thames Festival along the South bank. We went there this afternoon and joined up with some of Claire’s friends at a pub. The area was extremely busy, but there didn’t seem to be much going on apart for the kiosques with fried Creole fish patties and New Zealand jewellery. I must say, a sad thing about globalisation is that there are no more specificities for jewellery: everything I saw today I could very well buy in Montreal or at the By market in Ottawa. Seems like such styles have become international… or at least homogenous in the “Western” world. I was surprised that one of Claire’s friends, Guy, a British who worked for several years in France, was aware of the numerous festivals in Montreal during the summer months. I didn’t know that was part of the city’s reputation outside of Canada.

It’s almost 2 AM now. After the Thames festival, we went out in the East end, in the Brick Lane area. It’s considered the dodgier part of London, hence the “alternative” part. Again, there are people everywhere. And everywhere, they spill out from the bars onto the streets. Claire says it’s like that even in winter time. Strangely enough, the bars continue to serve drinks in glass glasses, so by the end of the evening the street was littered with a mix of used plastic glasses and shattered glass. After it all, bus-boys sweep it all up, and I guess the following night, or the following week, everything starts over again.

In Brick Lane I met a Mexican girl who works in the design industry. Seeing that I am visiting, she invited me to accompany her any evening this week to one of the numerous events taking place for the International Design Week (or something along that name…). I would love to take her up on it. But all in all, I may be quite busy this week what with visiting Camden Town with Pinakin, the design stuff with Valentina, a visit with Matthew (if possible), a viewing at the Globe, and the several museums I would still like to see. Indeed, London has quite a lot to offer! People keep asking me whether I’ll be staying the whole of my vacation in London. What with all there is to do, I think I’ll forget about the day trip to Oxford or Bath that I had been thinking of doing. Which reminds me, I also did a bit of window shopping on Oxford Street today. If the jewellery here is much of the same, that is not the case for the clothing. London is different. On that front, London is rather hard to resist… But I have been resisting! Though I do think I absolutely must get myself this really cool coat I saw at New Look because it is quite I bit chillier than I had packed for…

Claire, the palace & Soho

Claire came back! She arrived last night and we met at a pub next to her place. An Irish pub where I had some Irish lamb stew (with loads of fat) and pints of beer. Eventually, I must eat fish and chips, even if that plate seems too fried and devoid of nutrition… Anyhow, seeing her was lovely. We chatted non-stop until late into the night.

Yesterday, I finally woke up late and finally started feeling not jet-lagged. I lazed around the apartment for a while before setting out to Buckingham palace. Seeing that the Queen is away on holiday to Scotland for the months of August and September, they open up a few of the rooms at the palace for visitors. Mainly the public service rooms. We did not see any of the Royals' private quarters or official work offices. Nor did we see any bathrooms. But the Gallery, the main hall, several drawing rooms, the music room, the ballroom and the room in which coronations take place were all open. They were all very royal, of a style I usually much dislike but seeing that there was nothing but, it passed. It seemed coherent. And, there were no TVs hiding anywhere, which would have been quite kitsch, and would be what I’d expect from a British subject who admires the style just a bit too much to be congruent with the modern world.

Afterwards I walked around along Park Lane and a bit of Hyde Park. Seeing that I was so close to roaring traffic, I asked a British lady about the driving fees in the center. She was very congenial and told me everything she knows: it begun about 4 years ago and was reserved to the West Central district. Eventually, the periphery grew to include the West, part of the East and the South bank. It was also originally only 4 pounds and now for a “day pass” it’s 8. To pay, drivers must call up a number or access a pay machine, which can be found in the dépanneurs. They basically register their licence number. Those who live within the district can buy monthly passes that are about half the price.

Thursday evening I met Pinakin in Soho. A very nice guy. We walked around, had an Italian supper (lasagna is my first actual British restaurant-bought meal), and had some drinks in pubs. The area is very lively. Contrarily to New York City, where the main streets are very busy but once you diverge unto a side street you feel like you’ve landed in a no-man’s land, Soho in London has pubs and people everywhere, and at every turn you are greeted by a street that very much looks like the one you just left. But I did not find that section of town to look like the first scenes in Blade Runner. Then again, maybe my view lacked the misty rain…

Today, it is beautiful out. We may go to the Portobello market, the one we see in the film Nottingham. Afterwards we may have a pik-nik in Hyde Park. I also would like, eventually, to have tea at Harrods. And tonight, we are going out.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

London : the city where the streets have no name.

(I’m sure Bono was inspired after getting thoroughly lost in this city.)

Today, the tube line where I am staying stopped functioning at 9 AM. I wanted to go Downtown nice and early, but what would have been a relatively quick and painless tube ride turned into a very long bus ride. That is, once I succeeded at getting on a bus, seeing that all the working people were rushing into and filling up the buses. I got to my destination (Trafalgar Square) an hour later… and got lost! Came back to Claire’s for lunch and afterwards decided to walk towards Hammersmith. I looked it up on the map. It seemed relatively easy. I had to go South West. Well I went South, to finally discover that I had gone East and that I had to go North if I wanted to go West. And of course, through it all, the streets have no signs with their name. If you are lucky, you can spot a building address with the street name included in it. And tube signs don’t necessarily have the tube station name on them either! This city is quite the guessing game! I asked directions from this one girl who suggested that I stay on the “main streets.” She laughed at my frustration and told me that she was also always lost when she first arrived here, 4 years ago.

I decided to complete my day with something safe: a walk along the South Bank, the route of which is delineated in my London Lonely Planet. It was late day and the walk was absolutely lovely. I saw the Globe -- I’ll ask Claire if she wants to go see a play there with me sometime next week. And Big Ben. And the Eye. Many, many, many pubs and eateries, all of which were quite full. Strange architecture. Old buildings and cobble stone passage ways cramped in with the ultra-modern glass buildings. A prison museum and the Tate Modern. And the Aquarium. South and North bank are quite different worlds, as different as the people who consort within their limits. Once, a Spanish-speaking girl asked me for directions. I wonder, do I look British?

I was pleasantly surprised at noticing the amount of runners this city has. The South bank is full of them. Something people seem to do quite a bit here is run, backpack bouncing around, from their work to home. Quite the time saver.

In London, most of the people I encounter are not from London. I listened for a while to a man play the cello along the South bank. Afterwards, I asked him if he gave lessons. He didn’t understand my question. He told me that he didn’t speak English. I asked him which language he speaks. He replied Polish, or German. I did not feel confident enough to try my elementary Dutch on him with the hopes that he’d make it out, so I rephrased my question. He answered that he plays Bach, and Ave Maria, and so forth. Useless. I smiled back at him and said thank you, and walked my way away.

On a final note, I am proud to say that I spent almost no money today. I “topped up” my Oyster (bus and metro) with 20 pounds (a necessity), put to pounds down for the Time Out magazine, to know how to take full advantage of the city this week, and gave 1.25 pounds to the Polish cello player. And that’s it. I’m so proud of myself! :-)

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

DAY 1: Shepherd's Bush and my first (jet-lagged) impressions

Today, I sympathise with all those who move to a new country and must buy food. Canada to the UK is not such a long stretch, but anyone from Asia or Africa must spend quite a few evenings with an empty stomach during the time it takes to realign their eating habits with what the supermarkets in their host countries have to offer.

I also wish someone would have warned me that the keyboards are different. I write every a as a q and the m is stashed in a corner where it can’t be seen. The period is also tricky. I have not yet found the quotation mqrks. I think I will leqve thqt to qnother dqy…

I’m tired yet feel speqded. It’s 8:30 in the evening now. I’ll soon mqke myself some supper. Claire has left behind wine, of which I might pqrtqke.

Here qre my first impressions of London:

The city, at least what I’ve seen of it in Shepherd’s Bush, is quite the mish-mash. The place is what I believe to be a Victorian-era suburb. The streets qre winding and occupied by rows of little qttqched houses. Very quaint. Somewhat fqmily oriented. I imagine for the fqmilies who wish to be near the city and can afford the rising housing rates, quite like the Plateau area in Mtl. Yet the mqin streets, Shepherd’s Bush and Goldhawk, have neglected sidewalks and doubtful looking shops. Nothing glamorous. In comparison, Plaza St-Hubert looks even a bit rich…

The metros are old with narrow passages. Nothing to boast about. Surprisingly less confusing while in them than while looking at a map, but I have a few days ahead of me that may prove me wrong.

I have yet to meet one Brit who is unfriendly. People seem generally very considerate, especially with regards to the little space this country affords. Check-out counters are about a fourth of the size of those at Loblaws. Park benches are readily shared with strangers.

I now understand when people say that the pub is a way of life. People seem to hang in a pub like they would in their living room. Des tavernes, dans le fond. Not an event-worth space.

I almost heard as much Arabic today as English. And not all Englishes are the same. Service people may very well be foreigners still struggling with words and sounds, in which cases clients speak up, or speak slower, or search for synonyms. The poor girl who served me a coffee today had quite the obstacle at trying to make out what my soft-spoken unusual accent had to say. I am in an English land where I must repeat myself, or ask “what”? (Found the quotation marks )

Claire’s apartment is quite nice and actually bigger than what I expected. Very quaint. A building thqt could never exist in Quebec for its open railings and staircase, a bit like what we see as motels along the beach at Old Orchard. Heavy snow would be much too problematic here. Very clean and charming.

Voila!

I must make myself something to eat and try to go to bed not too late. I only slept two hours on the plane and then two when I arrived at Claire’s. Still, I am glad to spend these first few nights alone. They will give me a taste of solitude. And, I was thinking of Claire today as I walked around Sheperd’s Bush, of how she succeeded at dragging my ass across the Atlantic to here, this mythical place I have not yet woken up to. Maybe tomorrow morning it will all seem real? And then this evening I reread my second to last entry in this blog, reading it on Clqire’s computer, in her flqt, in London. And it just goes to show how life can shift sooner than we think.