Categories
Europe Living Abroad

FUTURE CINEMA PRESENTS: AN ACTION-PACKED MOVIE NIGHT

London isn’t exactly the most adventurous place to visit or live. Sure you could always shit-talk some drunken die-hard Chelsea fans and try to dodge punches, or test your luck at jumping in the Thames to see what happens to your limbs. But what about when you want to do something without the fear of being severely disfigured?

How about a night at the movies? Sounds boring doesn’t it? And while we’re at it, why not a black and white film from 1942? Are you sleeping yet? Yeah, my thoughts exactly, BORING. That is, until I found out it was a Future Cinema production. If there’s any way to turn an ordinary movie experience into a fun, action-packed evening, Future Cinema is it.

Simply put, Future Cinema is live cinema. They don’t just play the film. They create a theatrical world around the film that fully immerses you into an environment that makes you feel like you’re in the movie. So we bought tickets and went to see Casablanca. Though I’d never seen the film beforehand, that didn’t ruin my experience (but I bet it would’ve been 10x cooler if I knew what was going on).

Our experience started before we even got to the venue, and I honestly felt like I left that place in the middle of World War II. Our confirmation emails gave us a passport along with a name, nationality, and directions on how to dress to get into the show.

 

Casablanca Paperwork
My passport, exit papers, Francs, and literature on France

I was Dana Yevseyeva from Slovenia. And my email told me to wear the sign of the snake, learn the Marseillaise song if I believe in a Free France, and bring jewels to barter with on the black market to secure an exit visa to America. I had no idea what to expect.

The Troxy was decked out as Rick’s Café Américain as we entered in through the Caroline Street entrance, a dark side street that was crowded with an audience dressed head-to-toe in 1940’s era clothing. The actors were spot on. About a block away we were accosted by what we believe were prostitutes. The policemen were so intimidating I’m actually not convinced that they weren’t actual policemen. While we were in line, these stone-faced guards picked men from the line to push against the wall, screaming “I said put your hands on the wall, what are you stupid?” When they grabbed our papers the interrogation and sweating began (I don’t do well during confrontation). We were scolded for mispronouncing our names, and teased because we didn’t look Slovenian. I felt like I was in an unwelcoming foreign country doing something illegal and I needed to hide my American-ness for fear of being exiled or murdered.

Policemen at Casablanca
The policemen were so intimidating that we were scared to take photos. This is what happened.

 

We walked inside and made our way through halls and stairways of potted plants before reaching the grand room that smelled of Moroccan food thanks to Moro. London-based French musician Benoit Viellefon and his Orchestra welcomed guest singers on stage while the dancers moved to the rhythm in their sequined bodysuits.

 

Inside the Troxy
Part of the stage setup
Rick's Cafe Americain
The lovely overpriced cocktail menu that I fell victim to
Inside London Troxy
Who needs cushiony, reclining theater seats?

 

As we made our way towards our seats it became difficult to figure out who was in character and who was another theater-goer looking to start up a conversation. I was taking notes on my cell phone when a woman came up to me in a frenzy, warning me that “the Nazis can intercept everything, so you should be very careful when using communication devices.” After she thoroughly confused me with her political French talk, an attractive French man came up and started flirting with me, which kind of sucked because only in a world of make believe did an attractive French man ever hit on me. It’s hard to respond when you know the person hitting on you is only doing so because it’s his job (is this how men feel at strip clubs? I’m gonna go with probably not). What’s even more weird is that he started acting like he knew my character, saying things like “are you good at gambling? You used to be,” before giving me 20 (fake) Francs to gamble with.

 

Hard to see, but Marcus coyly took this photo while I  try to figure out if this chick is an actress or spectator.
Hard to see, but Marcus coyly took this photo while I try to figure out if this chick is an actress or spectator.
Gambling with fake money
The roulette table in the back, where security only allowed certain people to play.
Ilsa Lund
The actress dressed as Ilsa from Casablanca, dining amongst the rest of us.
Me in a fez
One of the girls with us stole this fez from a security guard. And yes, I know I’m not very 1940’s-ish. Especially with my iPhone falling out of my belt.

 

In the couple of hours leading up to showtime we were seated about eight to a round table, enjoying our drinks while checking out all of the dapper men in suits, when all of a sudden a shout or loud noise would grab our attention and a short scene would unfold. One time it was even [SPOILER ALERT]… gunshots.

 

 

I wasn’t going to buy into the overpriced food, but those gunshots jumpstarted my appetite (okay maybe it was the two overpriced Moscow Mules), so I needed some food in me. This salad surprisingly did the trick thanks to that huge hunk of creamy brie and the warm flakey bread.

 

Brie salad

 

At this point in the evening, though I’d never seen the film I had a pretty good idea of what it was about. Then the smaller than expected screen (to be fair I think I was expecting IMAX) dropped down, the film began, and the experience did a total 180. The sound system was not that great so it was hard to hear the dialogue over the crunching popcorn and cocktails being shaken, (not stirred). People were now drunk and giggling and talking. Or maybe that was just the brown-bagging alcoholics I was sitting next to.

Overall, Future Cinema did an excellent job of making me feel like it was 1941. I walked out of that place still convinced there was a war going on. Plus I actually sat down to watch a film I probably wouldn’t normally watch, so I finally understood the 4,981 “Here’s looking at you, kid” and “of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine” references that have gone completely over my head for the past 27 years.

SHOULD YOU DO IT?

Yes, absolutely. It’s £25, or roughly $38, but if you’re looking for a different London experience Future Cinema is definitely it. Just plan on making an evening of it. Drinks and food cost extra so bring some money, and plan on staying after the film for some more dancing. Dress up, act the part, and transport yourself into the movie. The only regret I have is that I didn’t get more into character, but I didn’t exactly include 1940’s style clothing in my luggage when I packed.

Casablanca ended on March 23rd, but next up is Saturday Night Fever from June 15th – July 9th. If you want to bump up the excitement a little more, check out Secret Cinema. It’s basically the same thing except you don’t know what movie you’re going to. I didn’t get a chance to see it but I hear it’s incredible, just check out this awesome video for the Secret Cinema production of The Shawshank Redemption.

 

Categories
Europe Living Abroad

I’m Back From Europe: A Brief Recap

It’s been a week since I’ve landed back on US soil. And it’s taken me this long to sit down and start writing about it. Mostly because I don’t know where to start. It’s daunting to summarize what I saw, what I did, and what I’ve learned during those 97 days abroad. So let me begin by breaking it down by numbers (disclaimer: numbers are totally not my strong point).

97 days
14 airports
14,027 miles flown
42 hours on airplanes
26 hours on trains
10 trains
2 buses
1 ferry
2 Airbnb’s (3 if you count the one that I stayed at twice)
2 friend’s houses
8 hotels
8,500+ photos

Places visited:
Reykjavik, Iceland
London, England
Amsterdam, Netherlands
Bristol, England
Dublin, Ireland
Dublin, Ireland again
Belfast, Ireland
Northern Ireland Coast (Carrick-a-Rede Bridge, Giant’s Causeway)
Newbury, England
Paris, France
Barcelona, Spain
Interlaken, Switzerland
Jungfrau, Bernese Oberland, Switzerland
Venice, Italy
Rome, Italy
Pompeii, Italy
Amalfi Coast, Italy : Positano, Amalfi
Athens, Greece
Crete, Greece

And yet, here I sit in my New York apartment once again, feeling almost as though I never left. But I know I’ve come back wiser, re-energized, and obviously a wee bit older with a slightly more damaged liver and a new view on living abroad. And on the United States.

To sum it up, that was the quickest 97 days of my life. I didn’t sleep much but I saw more than I ever imagined I could pull off in three months while still working a full-time job and not going into debt. I saw natural phenomenons, snow-covered mountains, and ancient cities that are nearly twelve times older than the United States. I tasted some of the most amazing food I never knew existed, met some incredibly hospitable people while spending time with friends both old and new, and drank enough Guinness to safely assume my body could snap into relapse any day now. I walked across a rope bridge in gale force winds, showed my mom her first international experience, and participated in the chaos that is St Patrick’s Day in Dublin. Of the 14 total weekends I was gone, I spent just four in London and ten traveling around Europe. I quickly adapted to waking up at 3am nearly every Monday morning to catch a flight back to London and straight in to work a full shift. It was a whirlwind of three months, but the best experience of my life.

I’ve learned a lot on this trip. I’ve learned that exploring without a cell phone is not nearly as difficult as it sounds. Turning off the GPS and disconnecting from Twitter and Facebook let me get lost in the city and the moment and enjoy wherever I was with no interruptions.

I’ve also learned that Europe is ridiculously expensive and living there while still getting paid in US dollars is NOT recommended. I spent a shit ton of money, but every penny was absolutely worth it.

I’ve also rekindled my love for New York City, and I’ve got a newfound respect for the United States.

So stay tuned for tons of stories, tips, babblings, and pictures. But in the mean time, here are just a few highlights.

Sunset in Crete
Yes, I took pictures and GoPro’ed the sunset in Crete. Two nights in a row.

 

This would be so much cooler with about 50 less tourists in the photo.
This would be so much cooler with about 50 less tourists in the photo.

 

Feta and honey saganaki and pan-fried cheese in Athens. OH. MY. GOD. AMAZING.
Feta and honey saganaki and pan-fried cheese in Athens. OH. MY. GOD. AMAZING.

 

Showing off my awesome sunburn in the hot tub. Oh, and that's just the Parthenon in the background, no big deal.
Showing off my awesome sunburn in the hot tub. Oh, and that’s just the Parthenon in the background, no big deal.

 

The mind-blowing beauty of the Northern Lights in Iceland.
The mind-blowing beauty of the Northern Lights in Iceland.

 

These were the people who inspired my own jumping spree all over Europe.
These were the people who inspired my own jumping spree all over Europe.

 

I drank so. Much. Guinness. And learned how to pour the perfect pint at the Guinness Academy.
I drank so. Much. Guinness. And learned how to pour the perfect pint at the Guinness Academy.

 

The beautifully lit Colosseum.
The beautifully lit Colosseum.

 

Westminster Abbey on a cold, rainy evening. So like, every evening in London.
Westminster Abbey on a cold, rainy evening. So like, every evening in London.

 

What good is a vacation without a few days in a Greek paradise?
What good is a vacation without a few days in a Greek paradise?

 

 

Categories
Europe Food + Drinks Living Abroad

Lazy Sunday at the Camden Market

This past weekend finally brought blue skies and well above freezing temperatures to London, so I spent Sunday roaming around Camden Market with my friend Julie whom I met a few years ago in New York. She’s originally from France but currently living in Geneva, and luckily for me visiting London with her equally awesome friend for a few days.

Pub shot
My selfies are out of focus about 70% of the time

 

Camden Market has been on my list of places to see since I’ve arrived, though I wasn’t exactly sure why since I’m not usually one to gravitate towards overcrowded shopping areas. But alas I went, and I was pleasantly surprised that it was far more entertaining than I’d expected.

The thing about Camden Market is that it’s so incredibly massive—it’s made up of six main sections, and then some—everyone’s bound to have a different experience. So let me give you a small sampling of what I encountered while strolling through for a few hours.

Music shop

 

When we first started walking through the scattering of souvenir shops, shoe stores, and KFC’s, I wasn’t impressed. The overcrowded streets reminded me of East Harlem during a summer street fair, minus the sweaty heat. Then we went into the green Camden Market tent which was completely packed with countless, nearly identical clothing shops. Each booth owner tried to get our money—the women by pushing the latest fashions and “just for you” discount prices in our faces, and the guys by flirtatiously combatting our “we’re just looking” lines with “…looking for a boyfriend?”

Screen shot 2013-03-03 at 9.35.52 PM

Gothic clothes and KFC
Gothic clothes and fried chicken

 

I was hooked as soon as we made our way towards the food in Camden Lock. The surprisingly harmonious scents of Indian, Thai, Chinese, and Mexican spices lured me in, and had I not been concerned about certain digestive repercussions I would’ve sampled something from each stand. But alas I found myself drooling over the sizzling fajitas that the two semi-Mexican looking men were serving up. I ordered carne asada tacos, which were… well, interesting. The corn tacos were stuffed with a mixture of what looked like canned chili, peas, corn, tomatoes, cheese, avocado salsa, and sour cream, on top of a bed of iceberg lettuce and deglo orange rice. Pretending for a moment that it wasn’t Mexican food, I suppose it wasn’t all that bad. In fact I’ll even bet that it would’ve been incredible after about ten beers. But I’ll never go back.

"Mexican food" at Camden Market
“Mexican food” at Camden Market

 

In my search for bottled water I was drawn to some no-name stand where I heard Tool’s Ænima album blasting. The dread-locked, tattooed, gauged ear guy running the stand (hello 18-year old Kim’s dream guy) was putting so much passion into making his coffee to the beat of Eulogy that I felt compelled to order a caffe mocha. And thankfully so. It was warm, thick, foamy, and overall a delicious companion for the chilly afternoon, even though it was gone in about six sips.

Caffe Mocha Art

 

We finally made our way into the Stables Market and down to the pinnacle of my Sunday market adventure, Cyberdog. This place was like a rave, complete with pumping music, dancing girls in short shorts, wildly outrageous but equally incredible futuristic outfits, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there were even some drugs scattered about. They carried all sorts of wacky unique gag gifts and party clothes, from guitar baking spatulas, to galactic dresses you’ve probably only seen on the Jetsons, to OhMiBod iPod-powered vibrators that sync up with your music to get you off to a beat. (Or to help you beat off? Get it??!) Yep.

Best store ever, forreal
Awesome. F’ing. Store.

Best store ever

Saturn
Awesome Saturn light!
Galactic Dresses
If they weren’t so expensive, I’d seriously consider rocking these galactic dresses.

 

After Cyberdog the rest of the shops just didn’t seem to compare, so what else could we do except stop for a cupcake? It was almost closing time and most of the flavors had been picked over at Mimi’s Cupcakes, but I managed to grab a winter fruit mini cupcake for just £1. The cake was much thicker than what I’m used to in the states, probably about the same consistency of cornbread, but it made this bite-sized treat perfectly fulfilling. The tart, fruity icing was like a thick buttercream, but it played a refreshing trick on my mind to make me think I was eating something lighter and more healthy.

Winter fruit cupcake at Mimi's Cupcakes
Winter fruit cupcake at Mimi’s Cupcakes

 

I think my favorite thing about Camden Market was the grunginess of it all. I feel more at home when I’m around people in hoodies with tattoos and piercings as opposed to those in collared shirts, sweaters, and perfectly pressed slacks like the other areas I’ve been to. And it wasn’t too in-your-face with people forcing us to buy stuff (except for the food market, but they were forcing us to taste their free samples so who can really complain?). Plus there truly seemed to be at least one shop for everyone there—even those of us who hate shopping. Definitely a good market worth getting lost in for a few hours, but you have to take the time to go deep inside to find where the shops really start to get good.

 

Categories
Europe

How to Flush a UK Toilet & Things I’m Getting Used To

I’m officially one week into my three months here in London and already I feel like I’ve been here for years. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that I’m working at the same company, with the same partner I’ve worked with for almost two years. Or maybe it’s because of how similar London and New York really are (especially since I work in a British office and live with a Brit back home). Or possibly because I’ve already been out with friends both new and old four nights. Or maybe even because the girl whose apartment I’m staying in left me a handmade guidebook to her place and neighborhood, and labeled everything with post-its.

 

photo
Yes I ate that entire Cadbury bar for dinner my first day in London. Thanks Elena!

 

Post-it guide to the wardrobe

 

Whatever the reason, I’m glad I’ve settled in so easily and there’s no shortage of things to keep me busy. Especially the TV in my bedroom that keeps me cozy indoors on these rainy days we’ve been having.

But there are a few things I’m still trying to get used to.

1. Why does flushing a toilet require so much work for some of us Americans? Most of the pubs I’ve been to have a simple button, thank God, but in the flat and at work I just couldn’t get the hang of these flush handles my first two days here. I literally had to Google “how to flush a British toilet.” So for anyone else who’s been dumbfounded by these insufficient flushers, here’s some help:

— Make sure you apply just the right amount of assertive pressure on the handle in one swift, decisive movement that’s not too fast and not too slow. So let’s say like, a half second.

— If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again, but not too quickly or immediately. Doing that over and over again won’t help speed up the unimpressive water pressure, but will in fact [probably] break the toilet.

— Once you succeed at seeing more than a teaspoon of water flow into the bowl just remember that you’re not done yet! Hold the handle down for a few seconds until you’re confident you’ve done the toilet’s work for it.

It really is weird. Once you get the hang of it it’s like “why was I struggling with this in the first place, it’s really not that different from what I’m used to in the US?” But hey, shit happens.

2. Staying in the bathroom world, I’m gonna go all female now so you men reading this may want to skip down to number three. TAMPON DISPOSAL. I’ve been told over and over not to flush tampons in England, which to me is just flat out disgusting. Once used, those things should have minimal exposure to anything. Not sit wrapped in layers of super-absorbent toilet paper in the trash can for days. They should flush down the toilet effortlessly and magically disappear into the most disgusting realm of the underworld, never to be seen again. But after seeing the struggle these toilets have just getting rid of a few sheets of toilet paper after a simple pee, I decided I better not be the one who clogs up the toilet with a clunge sponge. Apparently the old pipes of London can’t handle modern day proper hygiene, so it’s forcing us ladies to be all gross and stuff. Barf.

3. Actually, I guess all of my unpleasantries are bathroom related here, so please forgive me for the lack of photos. It’s only been a week and I’ve already realized that it definitely sucks being a raging drunk with a baby bladder. I mean really, the tube stops running around MIDNIGHT? I understand that the buses run 24 hours, but if I’m already cutting it close sprinting from the tube station to the flat with my legs crossed while holding my crotch, you can bet your ass I’m going to piss myself on a bus that takes twice as long to get home. I guess on the plus side this 1130 cutoff time has kept my drunken mistakes in check.

But in all reality London is great and it should be a very comfortable three months living here. I’ll just need to find some more localized watering holes to spend my weekends before I end up napping under a bridge along the Thames. And maybe take an extra pair of underwear just in case.

Categories
Europe Living Abroad

My First Living Abroad Experience

So my next big trip is coming up super soon—just TWO WEEKS from today to be exact!

I work at an ad agency that offers this program called a life swap. Basically, it’s exactly what it sounds like. You swap lives with someone who works your same position in another one of our offices around the world. You keep paying your own bills, live in each other’s apartments, work each other’s jobs, and essentially just live each other’s lives for up to three months.

After a bit of begging planning, my Art Director partner Marcus and I have been lucky enough to have the opportunity arise to swap with a creative team in London starting February 4th!

This is my first extended stay in another country and I’m a little bit worried that I won’t want to come back. Right now it kind of feels like my semester abroad that I never had the opportunity to do in school. I’m already planning many, many, (perhaps too many) weekend trips to catch up with friends all over Europe, and I’ve even got my mom (who swore she’d never leave the country) coming to visit for about ten days in March, where we’ll also be spending a long weekend in Paris!

But perhaps the best part (do I sound like a late night TV ad yet?) is the two weeks of actual vacation I’m taking on the tail end of this trip. I’ve been saving up for a while now so I should be able to have a proper end to this incredible opportunity. I’m not positive where I’ll go, but I’m pretty sure it’ll be a good mix of adventure, tourism, and relaxing on some beaches if the weather cooperates. Regardless of where I end up, I’m hoping to spend my final night meeting the girls we’ve swapped with face to face in London to exchange stories.

So we’re kicking off this journey on January 29th by spending four nights in Reykjavik, Iceland, where with any luck we’ll see the Northern Lights! Fingers crossed!

I’d say I’m starting off 2013 the right way, and if everything goes according to plan it’s going to be an amazing, unforgettable three months that I can’t wait to share with everyone!

PS. I told you I’d be back, London.

Categories
Europe

My First Football Match: Ghana v Brazil in London

Who would’ve thought that my favorite part of London would have absolutely nothing to do with the city itself? On my last night in town we went to a Ghana and Brazil football match at the Fulham Football Club.

I’ve been to my fair share of concerts. That’s pretty much all I did from age 14-19. I’ve been in the mosh pits trying to prove that girls are just as tough as guys. I’ve spent sizzling afternoons squished against the front row barricades and sweaty, overweight, BO-reaking men in the 100+ degree heat at Ozzfest in the middle of July. I’ve been pushed to my knees and had my face squeezed against a barricade through an entire four-minute song. I’ve been squeezed into the crowd at a Rage Against The Machine reunion tour so tight that you think you actually start to feel your ribs cracking one by one (which is weird consideirng there’s no room to take a proper breath large enough to expand your lungs and snap your ribs in the first place). Well the crowd OUTSIDE of the arena waiting to get in for this Ghana vs. Brazil match was even worse. I was 5’2” in a sea of 6’+ men stemming from Africa (I’d assume since we were on the Ghana side).

The game was intense. That’s a huge reason why I love football, the passion. The fans were constantly roaring and stomping their feet to the point where I started to question how sturdy the seats were.

We had pretty good seats, I just wish I had a better lens. That’s something I need to invest in soon. Right after I take [another] photography class to learn how to use my camera a little bit better.

The view from our seats
I should’ve gone streaking

In the end Brazil took the 1-0 win, making me wish I were on the other side with all the celebrating fans and Latin men. The overall experience was comparable to a hockey game, and only solidified my feelings that I need to move to a country that appreciates football a bit more than the USofA.

Brazil!

Categories
Europe

The Quest for the Abbey Road Photo

The only thing on my London must-do list was going out to Abbey Road for the ultra cliche Beatles pic. I woke up excited but pretty bummed that it was raining. I debated not going at all but I knew I’d regret it later. Besides, it was a light rain. It’d clear up, right?

When we got off the train at St. John’s Wood it was like a monsoon walking up Grove End Road. The grey skies had been sprinkling all morning but this was just cruel. There was me, at a vertically challenged 5’2” tall, walking with my friend Jonathan who is over 6’ tall. I was the only one with an umbrella and of course my “I’m way too nice for my own good” self felt bad, so I let him carry it so he could stay dry as well. Note to all other short people: never let someone who is a foot taller than you carry the umbrella because it will do you absolutely no good. I was soaked.

We reached the intersection that we may have otherwise passed up had we not seen other tourists dodging across the street in between traffic. There’s no light at this intersection. And if you wait for traffic to completely let up you’ll never get your shot. You just kind of have to go when you get a sort of chance and hope that the cars slow down and let you take your dorky picture. Every time this happens a line of people gather on either side, and just when there’s a break in traffic the designated photographers run out into the street and the line of walkers begin walking across the street. Stopping, posing, and then onward. But common sense would tell you that you can’t go too close to the person ahead of you otherwise you’ll ruin their shot. Like some chick did to me on my first walk.

Then of course once I felt we had enough shots, I had to re-do it once again with my shoes off like Paul.

Greg was standing around watching from under his umbrella and I kept making Jonathan run out between cars and snap more photos. I wish it hadn’t been such a shitty day so we could’ve gotten some better shots, but if I made him take any more pics I would’ve had to start paying him. I did what I could to horribly Photoshop together this little gem:

Maybe one day I’ll get the chance to go back out there and take some better photos. Until then, I’m happy knowing that I’ve walked in John, Paul, George and Ringo’s footsteps.

Categories
Europe

72 Hours in London

I always told myself that as soon as I got my first big girl job, I was buying a plane ticket and jetting off to Paris for my first vacation. So I set out to make that happen. And when I found out that a coworker was going to be working abroad in London for a couple of months during the same time, I jumped on the chance to stop and see what London was all about along the way.

The timing couldn’t have been worse. I was just ending a five-year relationship and moving the accumulated remains of three years of cohabitation into a place that was nearly twice the price of my previous rent. Plus that up-front cost of three month’s rent wasn’t friendly on the wallet for a girl with no safety net. Then the weekend I had planned to move (five days before heading out of the country for ten days), Hurricane Irene set out to destroy NYC, trapping my ex and I in our tiny one bedroom apartment that was brimming with tension, packed with boxes upon boxes of shit.

Wall-to-wall crap in my UES apartment

I ended up moving on a weeknight after work, just days before I headed to Heathrow. The previous roommate hadn’t moved out yet, so I dumped all of my shit in the living room and crashed on the couch for a few nights. I packed my bags and set out for the UK, leaving a mess of boxes in the living room for my new roommates to push into the bedroom once it was empty. I bet I made a horrible first impression on my new roomies.

All my shit in the living area of my new apartment
The state of my bedroom that I came back to. Full of boxes and no bed

Putting my messy New York life on hold, I set out on a Friday evening redeye to London for a long weekend. I’d like to think of my 72 hours in London as sort of a tease. I stayed in East Putney, so most nights were spent heading back early before the trains stopped running. I got to see some of the main tourist attractions, but I really feel like I missed out on the heart of London culture. I didn’t even have fish and chips while I was there. I did, however, have sushi. And steak. And beer.

Tuna and salmon goodness
Mmm…steak and Hollandaise Sauce
I’m a sucker for sweets

Let me preface this story with another: Thanksgiving day in 2010 I went to see the Jets play and ended up sitting next to a lonesome Brit from Bristol named Greg. We chatted throughout the game, and thanks to Facebook we kept in touch. When I knew I was heading to London I let him know, and he came into the city for a couple days of hanging out.

Greg & I at the British Museum

While we were out for drinks one night we were mid conversation and Greg’s words came to a halt. He mumbled something along the lines of “bloody hell, hold that thought” (totally a guess, his British accent made it hard to decipher) and ran to the other side of the bar like there was free beer up for grabs. Confused, we looked over and were just as quickly trying to figure out whether he knew the guy he’d run off to so quickly, or if he was just having a conversation with himself in a mirror.

Greg & his doppelgänger

Since we were all a few drinks in, this was the most amusing thing in the world. We made the guys swap friends and we spent some time hanging out with new Greg before parting ways for the evening.

Sadly, none of his dopplefriends looked like any of us
Mildly creeped out by this dopplefriend

The rest of my time in London I spent wandering around by foot, checking out the traditional touristy stuff in downtown London: Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre, St Paul’s Cathedral, and I added Millenium Bridge and Tower Bridge to the list of bridges I’ve walked across in my life. Typical tourist sightseeing experiences. One day in an attempt to kill some time, we stopped in at Founders Arms for some chips with garlic mayo, garlic bread and a lovely view.

Beer stop for garlic bread and “chips”
The view from Founders Arms
The London Eye along the Thames River
Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre
Half-assed artistic photo attempt
Tower Bridge
Wrought iron fences and incredible architecture
Westminster Abbey
This is why I’m fat
This photo does zero justice for seeing the sun set on Big Ben
Such a London-ish photo op. Too bad I was the one behind the lens
Waterfront on the Thames River
Tower Bridge in the distance
St Paul’s Cathedral

The moon shining above Parliament at dusk

It was inevitable that I’d have at least one rainy day while in London. So after getting soaked walking across Abbey Road 478 times, we decided to spend a few hours in the British Museum until the rain let up. That place was amazing. I could live there. Since I studied at an art school, the majority of the museums I’ve been to have been art museums, so this was an awesome change of pace. Beforehand I had no idea what was even in the British Museum, so it pretty much blew my mind. A Moai statue from Easter Island. Marble sculptures from ancient Greece. The Mummy of Cleopatra. So many things I’d read about in school were right in front of me. All of a sudden I found myself wishing I had paid more attention in school.

The Rosetta Stone
Greg getting in on a little fist bump action
Part of the Elgin Marbles from the Parthenon
Part of the Elgin Marbles from the Parthenon
The teeny tiny Mummy of Cleopatra
Moai statue from Easter Island
The Ginger Mummy in a reconstructed Egyptian grave pit with bits
of flesh, hair, and nails which had miraculously not decayed

I’m aching to go back and explore more of what London has to offer. I want to catch a home football match. I want to have afternoon tea. I want to spend a Saturday browsing through the Designers Makers Market. I want to check out all of the vintage shops and boutique markets I’ve been researching and writing about for the past year at work. I want to get a feel for all of the different neighborhoods. And eat a tasty snack from Lily Vanilli.

Get ready London, I’ll be back.