tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22550666617493987902024-03-13T03:12:02.681+00:00Gedankengut - My Two CentsTPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05859356900889164252noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2255066661749398790.post-25646519411545949342010-11-21T20:38:00.001+00:002010-11-21T20:39:48.372+00:00Three's Company: Natural History and Science Museum<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBDwC_sMFnJZaG23oU8blF_J8ynHhTgnaVBvd3NIhw4Xvcjumr6tyJLP4FRGTKN0Nzp8dJcIvyDO-nETyjgxk-bAkOHBHBPXcmU5mKPcqfyZEcsiKJWo3vwwKabjKCe3casO-jW8EKCX0/s1600/CIMG0020b+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBDwC_sMFnJZaG23oU8blF_J8ynHhTgnaVBvd3NIhw4Xvcjumr6tyJLP4FRGTKN0Nzp8dJcIvyDO-nETyjgxk-bAkOHBHBPXcmU5mKPcqfyZEcsiKJWo3vwwKabjKCe3casO-jW8EKCX0/s320/CIMG0020b+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>I was already on the 333 to Tooting Broadway for the Northern Line heading to Highgate Cemetery on Octobre 17th when I received a message from Katja saying something the along the lines of "We're on the way to the Science Museum - wanna come?" So sure I did. <br />
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All I did on the day before was to rest (yeah!) for most of the day and to go to Tooting Broadway for a new haircut, some shopping and foooood as all I had eaten so far was breakfast. Oh by the way, some time ago, I found out that the toast I get here is always already expired. Always. I have given up to complain or to get upset about those kind of things quite a while ago as mentioning anything would be of no earthly use and I'd rather live peacefully here than in a tense atmosphere.<br />
Haircut. I am fussy about my hair. Fussy to a pathetically high degree. Embaressingly fussy. I once came out with such a bad haircut that I did not enter a hairdresser for more than half a year and the one I went to right before I departed to LDN, although I had been there before (but with a different coiffeur), gave me a haircut that eerily resembled the one from Mireille Mathieu with is not a good thing, either.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vWll5xogu90Noz_7WottMVLf_HQQLuMELbFiYT4qvohVzaXOYs5D6RsWU9rbetkClmyxiecvMt25fJkhEku-4xIgeuzcuifo3UjTWqwunNmFxloi-mlubkgx95WVWssPcuoff_oXUiM/s1600/CIMG0013b+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vWll5xogu90Noz_7WottMVLf_HQQLuMELbFiYT4qvohVzaXOYs5D6RsWU9rbetkClmyxiecvMt25fJkhEku-4xIgeuzcuifo3UjTWqwunNmFxloi-mlubkgx95WVWssPcuoff_oXUiM/s640/CIMG0013b+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="640" /> </a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1nvgT-e8W3uMQ1kL3DnY-wE04AZIH9ifXFWmJ6mrjxNoN5CB6WPpJ4F6edGkwWZNqzoohIts_vUCy2Yvg7F9EnqxT9Ucwm1Pf6Vv_X40AVMFRJmGeI0MkYooS3aBwu5k5TqPokkHK03s/s1600/CIMG0033b+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vWll5xogu90Noz_7WottMVLf_HQQLuMELbFiYT4qvohVzaXOYs5D6RsWU9rbetkClmyxiecvMt25fJkhEku-4xIgeuzcuifo3UjTWqwunNmFxloi-mlubkgx95WVWssPcuoff_oXUiM/s1600/CIMG0013b+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMUQfWxeNLC2Bmks1O6f7zBzLzGMr4DI34sWdBscUim7j9VhLMzE_mJObZnvqzJbmD66Og2ycsoV2gIczajX5dOh0oE__dlJQxVOxj6PdpZsFzxJ4NucBA7CwuB9hUnxXC1AEfqxniHMk/s1600/CIMG0041+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMUQfWxeNLC2Bmks1O6f7zBzLzGMr4DI34sWdBscUim7j9VhLMzE_mJObZnvqzJbmD66Og2ycsoV2gIczajX5dOh0oE__dlJQxVOxj6PdpZsFzxJ4NucBA7CwuB9hUnxXC1AEfqxniHMk/s320/CIMG0041+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Anyway, I walked around for a while until I found one that looked halfway trustworthy. There surprisingly is quite a variety of hairdressers to choose from at Tooting Broadway and no - not all of them would rather give you beads or weaves (contrary general assumption). I came in, had my hair washed three times (I asked whether it was really necessary before the third time as I slowly started to think that they are going to charge extra - what they did not - but appearently, the last time was with conditioner), was treated in a friendly manner, asked how I wanted it to look like, was given further advice and left the place quite pleased with the result. I hate the places where they want to hear from you exactly what you want them to do as it always seems to me then that they don't know what they are doing and furthermore, I am not a frickin' hairdresser so how the hell am I supposed to know exactly how you are ought to cut my hair. Ah, there we go. I think it became obvious now that I really have got hair issues. Dunno where that came from.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcctHhwpWugjy9YGIWsPEO54FL4P_oeW3-Dq7bNMZn0HoB-hNsRCNks6TW1KmXdjk0064e06u5PCYUZi9zzzug4KXNujxQgd-yKsjYiRu__nISO0P6_NYsy9L_fFA4kTri4shPgk-NbfQ/s1600/CIMG0046+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcctHhwpWugjy9YGIWsPEO54FL4P_oeW3-Dq7bNMZn0HoB-hNsRCNks6TW1KmXdjk0064e06u5PCYUZi9zzzug4KXNujxQgd-yKsjYiRu__nISO0P6_NYsy9L_fFA4kTri4shPgk-NbfQ/s200/CIMG0046+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1l2Q6uYssdzVfWp4wHwgr9rqhFHYmqO752ogtIYCsL4qGlU_6sRBjgAcLBDfY56Fmvd6miMxJGdgOVlXEL8kE_quCjUmEuiJTCCgrAXoGLTI82qEEiI78HX64y86ZcRG2n_edBOEbHOE/s1600/CIMG0036+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1l2Q6uYssdzVfWp4wHwgr9rqhFHYmqO752ogtIYCsL4qGlU_6sRBjgAcLBDfY56Fmvd6miMxJGdgOVlXEL8kE_quCjUmEuiJTCCgrAXoGLTI82qEEiI78HX64y86ZcRG2n_edBOEbHOE/s320/CIMG0036+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a>After strolling through Tooting Market and the area for a while, finding something to eat became the main goal. The first low priced stall went out of food (haha! To their defence however, it was rather late and I was still in the market hall then and there was still some stew stuff left, but that was not really what I was looking for. It was Jamaican food, btw). I then decided to go to an Indian restaurant, which was not the best idea I have ever had. I am talking about the restaurant, not the fact that it was Indian. The amount of food was way too small for what I paid, it was way too greasy and again they gave me one of the shittiest seats available. meh.<br />
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That was the day before. I actually wanted to write about my day with the two gals, so here I go.<br />
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I arrived in South Kensington a bit earlier than they did, so I had plenty of time to get myself a (not too nice and rather flat) cheap coffee from a place right at the station and sit down on a bench for a while before they showed up.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp3l4Ourw-H0wtBnzxu3WCVDiWAsdH9_YFMnaWUZ3trBH7NZB78j5smBaS-UtXsSnglKGA1dbF9RWnPo4BLfDVJzHJKWf4cgwkaZurp_Y-qLtCAEMe23GCeCYqn2qf-yQ-I32DZogwQf4/s1600/CIMG0003+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp3l4Ourw-H0wtBnzxu3WCVDiWAsdH9_YFMnaWUZ3trBH7NZB78j5smBaS-UtXsSnglKGA1dbF9RWnPo4BLfDVJzHJKWf4cgwkaZurp_Y-qLtCAEMe23GCeCYqn2qf-yQ-I32DZogwQf4/s320/CIMG0003+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a>Writing about coffee. Probably deriving from their history of being tea drinkers, the English coffee of choice is instant, somewhat weaker, milkier and sweeter from what Germans usually prefer. A kettle here is just as much a kitchen essential as is a coffee machine in Germany (FYI, I don't even own a kettle - if I need hot water, I use a good ol' pot on a stove - takes longer, though). Just a little side note. That being said, London Town is still plastered with coffee shop chains and you also don't need to look fot too lonh in farther areas. It seems to me, that Starbucks is to my surprise not the one to find the most but rather the runner up to Pret a Manger (or just plain Pret) which seems to be omnipresent. Followed by Costa and Nero, with the occasional Paul's. As I am someone who is very fond of coffee (as well as tea), I will gladly give you my opinion about the coffee of mentioned chains.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1nvgT-e8W3uMQ1kL3DnY-wE04AZIH9ifXFWmJ6mrjxNoN5CB6WPpJ4F6edGkwWZNqzoohIts_vUCy2Yvg7F9EnqxT9Ucwm1Pf6Vv_X40AVMFRJmGeI0MkYooS3aBwu5k5TqPokkHK03s/s1600/CIMG0033b+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1nvgT-e8W3uMQ1kL3DnY-wE04AZIH9ifXFWmJ6mrjxNoN5CB6WPpJ4F6edGkwWZNqzoohIts_vUCy2Yvg7F9EnqxT9Ucwm1Pf6Vv_X40AVMFRJmGeI0MkYooS3aBwu5k5TqPokkHK03s/s320/CIMG0033b+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a>Let's start with Starbucks. Starbucks is the place to go if you want nice, tasty, overpriced fancy shmancy hot beveranges with a lotta cream and syrup but with very little coffee. Let's be honest. Who does not love overpriced fancy shmancy hot beveranges with a lotta cream and syrup but with very little coffee once in a while?<br />
Don't go to Pret if you want coffee. I like their food; you can see the 'effort' in offering more healthy food and the fact that everything is supposedly organic is to their favour as well, but their coffee tastes plain frowsty. Fail. End of story. Organic BS or not, if it tastes bad, I won't buy it.<br />
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I cannot say a lot about Paul except that their coffee is alright and their food - at least the macaron I once had haha - is delicious but everything is ridiculously overpriced.<br />
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The coffee shop that takes the cake for me is definitely Caffè Nero. Their coffee tastes almost nutty, roasted but not burned and their prices are - for coffee shop standards - rather low.<br />
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But finally time to come back to the museums...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv03DB_Dyr0ucOZt6Li_5jnyw7ud94Qk3f0iI3O6WySOZv07SATI5JvJ6n9aU6Y12WYtzByAnnNNArg2I-7Ugr2dKWR-NSCeRjYG8Uloazqax2QHLMOTE_yoeSaP49eLZMGyF0_h5dJCg/s1600/CIMG0072+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv03DB_Dyr0ucOZt6Li_5jnyw7ud94Qk3f0iI3O6WySOZv07SATI5JvJ6n9aU6Y12WYtzByAnnNNArg2I-7Ugr2dKWR-NSCeRjYG8Uloazqax2QHLMOTE_yoeSaP49eLZMGyF0_h5dJCg/s320/CIMG0072+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a>We first went to the Science Museum. I have already been there three years ago and remembered it being - watch out, uncreative ad talk on its way - "fun and interactive" meaning that there are many things you can/need to <b><i>do</i></b> something with. Different ones than there used to be years ago which is a good thing as it makes it worth revisiting.<br />
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Besides the obvious themes of natural science and technology, the new exhibition "Who am I" adds psychological, biological and socioligical aspects. That was were we spend most of the time.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7mGg-xQu8AibkYJSbNrJctWWDJhHUJOprHpmArAwL9dQ0EkTBKW7zZbpFojSjEdu7ZZ9kIHsM29qjoyD108rLHP_xG8na2OKtffgExVcom0H6YEwKBF8dycaWXI8yb9ligpzjxQkRfJ0/s1600/CIMG0094+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="479" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7mGg-xQu8AibkYJSbNrJctWWDJhHUJOprHpmArAwL9dQ0EkTBKW7zZbpFojSjEdu7ZZ9kIHsM29qjoyD108rLHP_xG8na2OKtffgExVcom0H6YEwKBF8dycaWXI8yb9ligpzjxQkRfJ0/s640/CIMG0094+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
I don't want to go further into detail as http://www.sciencemuseum.org.uk/ is way better in describing what they offer, but it really is worth a visit, especially combined with the <a href="http://www.nhm.ac.uk/">Natural History Museum</a> , which is right next door, so to say and picks up themes such as geology, biology and, well, natural history. Again, we did not quite see all of it as the two still had an appointment, and I might visit it again.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKHfwHme-mPmr4X5IKeB2iRt_TiAyW4qPNGlLJzIn3O235Kj9DMHWTzKKqiPnmYRFtrj_4Uw_g_znjlIXqh6y_8tht6FBAoIHACKDd-GZu1yOqYOPcjBXv-5bvA5WmL-_wCSFTWezz3CU/s1600/CIMG0098+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKHfwHme-mPmr4X5IKeB2iRt_TiAyW4qPNGlLJzIn3O235Kj9DMHWTzKKqiPnmYRFtrj_4Uw_g_znjlIXqh6y_8tht6FBAoIHACKDd-GZu1yOqYOPcjBXv-5bvA5WmL-_wCSFTWezz3CU/s320/CIMG0098+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a>Oh yes, both museums are free except special temporary exhibitions and a few extras.<br />
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Both are enjoyable and not the kind of museums where you oooh and aaaah over historical, man made, high cultural objects (arts and crafts for short), which I like as well (the V&A still being my favourite museum).<br />
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However, while grown-ups still find something interesting and are going to have there fun - children will get the most out of it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqittRLd9clGPbI9ymn8aViUihWW_K2PH6yH7ik7BE5NkAinO77Z5eikbzcnnvPYg-mA9-Nl4h07_mpU8VIOF_UwSxIbmSG2YF4Pz1qUDD_MzTthGv0mrkMJXAkGfNyoGcf61kCu3FdXI/s1600/CIMG0106+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqittRLd9clGPbI9ymn8aViUihWW_K2PH6yH7ik7BE5NkAinO77Z5eikbzcnnvPYg-mA9-Nl4h07_mpU8VIOF_UwSxIbmSG2YF4Pz1qUDD_MzTthGv0mrkMJXAkGfNyoGcf61kCu3FdXI/s320/CIMG0106+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a>After leaving the museum oh so much wiser but hungry, we decided to have dessert before our actual dinner (or was it a late lunch? dinner? linner?). So we went to Snog - a frozen yoghurt shop with a shitload of toppings to choose from. I had green tea yoghurt with chocolate brownies, strawberries and mochi blobs on top. The gals had plain yoghurt and dark chocolate and that were actually all one could choose from. Tasty? Yes. Expensive? Definitely.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYirkjuIR7RrmWXSogEzljWupAaTIBiF-qkiNp56ObJ1g0fmaWtH7ZApwgqQsaLS1siqxEtSjwn73-ysGYwEcxtNhidt7bcdMaypmjbwqxlLXVsR-4WJdDxgrc5A6qXpryrL33q5W1trs/s1600/CIMG0181+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYirkjuIR7RrmWXSogEzljWupAaTIBiF-qkiNp56ObJ1g0fmaWtH7ZApwgqQsaLS1siqxEtSjwn73-ysGYwEcxtNhidt7bcdMaypmjbwqxlLXVsR-4WJdDxgrc5A6qXpryrL33q5W1trs/s640/CIMG0181+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_LEloYZEEnwY_pad9-XN3ckEUfbXREygOSQgLDmsQGJIoAd9lNCUTcKpAje2-Ar-9GXfy1EZik0ExxPQNJDVz-XV8lESomqjw0ZLj1vV_ixhP68TF79SEPIyQCQfyOLbmUhAEYMukbuA/s1600/CIMG0126+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_LEloYZEEnwY_pad9-XN3ckEUfbXREygOSQgLDmsQGJIoAd9lNCUTcKpAje2-Ar-9GXfy1EZik0ExxPQNJDVz-XV8lESomqjw0ZLj1vV_ixhP68TF79SEPIyQCQfyOLbmUhAEYMukbuA/s320/CIMG0126+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSCF_cwGBd75duuBjLVwdun8G3-ChG4jfSxbp032d3-HRLDNr1-nIqzrLyt02mCQrQcAuwf-a9HXnhO8wUHhn5qHZAUjEYmB1CPSEj6rY4qtvddg8tZikeY5vQHYVxx2jpr3I7h2aEkto/s1600/CIMG0122+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSCF_cwGBd75duuBjLVwdun8G3-ChG4jfSxbp032d3-HRLDNr1-nIqzrLyt02mCQrQcAuwf-a9HXnhO8wUHhn5qHZAUjEYmB1CPSEj6rY4qtvddg8tZikeY5vQHYVxx2jpr3I7h2aEkto/s320/CIMG0122+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a> We moved on to Victoria Station as their train was going to depart from there and ate at Garfunkel's again (I just love their spareribs and chips. Honestly. I do) where Sarah taught me that you can just ask for tap water in restaurants here as a beverage. We all got big glasses of it even with icecubes and a slice of lemon without being charged. Love it. The best thing that would happen I assume if you asked for tap water in Germany, would be the waitress giving you an irritated look, the worst thing would be you being thrown out. Well, a bit of an exaggeration but you get the picture.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYtmISDKa25CfR0ZsTs0fRWfI1dN9DqU2jRGjHJNmVm7yLuYU5lJeS8q4MVK-zNvggRVUvBuHGxrfGUn1hHDOlTHrtokdPa_qXZ_8le17KswXm8J0WImKjMzMlkkJCOdJjGwWBHcV_VzA/s1600/CIMG0168+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYtmISDKa25CfR0ZsTs0fRWfI1dN9DqU2jRGjHJNmVm7yLuYU5lJeS8q4MVK-zNvggRVUvBuHGxrfGUn1hHDOlTHrtokdPa_qXZ_8le17KswXm8J0WImKjMzMlkkJCOdJjGwWBHcV_VzA/s640/CIMG0168+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="480" /></a>Afterwards, we I drank an alright but not too good chai latte with them at the train station (at least I had a chai latte) before they had to leave what made me decide to walk around the area by myself.<br />
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</a>Shame on me, but I did not know that Buckingham Palace is so close to there! I pretty much ended up there by coincidence, but surely not regretting it at all. The palace itself is really not too interesting from the outside. However, the fountain in front of it is!<br />
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I got to Hyde Park Corner Station, passing the Wellington Arch.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGm1WU8fBCkVXU23SGCtXR6W9Tf11DC9GaAK22jS_NRJhZ9uylNCkksfmb2w0SBDw1itc3SSvF2Cj9NJTNp-k-v2ip_q6ks93Jz-p26iSgwQPInFyxAm3G3jUL7BEJoBGV6e1thf1vxsg/s1600/CIMG0184+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGm1WU8fBCkVXU23SGCtXR6W9Tf11DC9GaAK22jS_NRJhZ9uylNCkksfmb2w0SBDw1itc3SSvF2Cj9NJTNp-k-v2ip_q6ks93Jz-p26iSgwQPInFyxAm3G3jUL7BEJoBGV6e1thf1vxsg/s400/CIMG0184+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzD23fsfti7BdUsraZv6aHn5O8yg4CA464eqRlGwa5eQD49tR-SM_7nL8Eh6h0nYW7o2cKXWjGT7T-4A_fYp9pk55XDBevyLrge9SXQOgtEm_uGWpMKE7ywJD_YXpb4RDvFs8drt3qa2w/s1600/CIMG0186+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzD23fsfti7BdUsraZv6aHn5O8yg4CA464eqRlGwa5eQD49tR-SM_7nL8Eh6h0nYW7o2cKXWjGT7T-4A_fYp9pk55XDBevyLrge9SXQOgtEm_uGWpMKE7ywJD_YXpb4RDvFs8drt3qa2w/s1600/CIMG0186+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzD23fsfti7BdUsraZv6aHn5O8yg4CA464eqRlGwa5eQD49tR-SM_7nL8Eh6h0nYW7o2cKXWjGT7T-4A_fYp9pk55XDBevyLrge9SXQOgtEm_uGWpMKE7ywJD_YXpb4RDvFs8drt3qa2w/s1600/CIMG0186+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzD23fsfti7BdUsraZv6aHn5O8yg4CA464eqRlGwa5eQD49tR-SM_7nL8Eh6h0nYW7o2cKXWjGT7T-4A_fYp9pk55XDBevyLrge9SXQOgtEm_uGWpMKE7ywJD_YXpb4RDvFs8drt3qa2w/s400/CIMG0186+%2528Medium%2529.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>TPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05859356900889164252noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2255066661749398790.post-18446199493288386482010-10-31T20:55:00.003+00:002010-10-31T22:06:33.804+00:00Between Jurism, Journalism, Corpses and Fairytales: Holborn<span id="goog_267563463"></span><span id="goog_267563464"></span>Alright, this time it's gettin' bathetically touristy.<br />
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Bath was yesterday, sunny it was today. So, 'what to do' I was thinking when I remembered that quite a while ago, I actually purchased a guide for London that was supposed to help me in exactly this kind of situations. Half-heartedly leaving through it, I stopped in the centre of the book. 'Pretty', I thought when looking at a picture of a dragon-like figure artsy fartsy lit from behind by warm evening sunlight. That kind of picture everybody loves to look at and every hobby photographer proclaims to be his 'masterpiece'. I don't quite recall, but thoughts like 'Yes, I want to look at pretty things lit from behind by warm evening sunlight, today' might have come into my mind when settling on going out for a walk that it exactly described in the pages of that guide. Holborn it was, so I set out to go there.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijNcPSr4JJ2oaxkYDwmI1dnetEnifuNMa1cnihUt1_AE02o316cnJ97c_GyuKe39BcTtYSNIyi2bbcYsg9qctIm4BOXoZCifTRg0r5II3bgUblv1g2WPkIXK_BWt9WSkVCNpX1pgUxJpE/s1600/CIMG0012+-+Kopie+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijNcPSr4JJ2oaxkYDwmI1dnetEnifuNMa1cnihUt1_AE02o316cnJ97c_GyuKe39BcTtYSNIyi2bbcYsg9qctIm4BOXoZCifTRg0r5II3bgUblv1g2WPkIXK_BWt9WSkVCNpX1pgUxJpE/s320/CIMG0012+-+Kopie+%28Medium%29.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sir John Soane's Museum</td></tr>
</tbody></table>What a suprise - Holborn was the name of the closest station so I got off the tube there, trying to find the start point of said walk with intitial difficulties. I think I have mentioned before that my sense of directions puts me close to retardation sometimes. Or maybe it was just because you sometimes just don't know in which direction you look when exiting the tube station. Nevermind. Lincoln's Inn Fields was supposed to be the first street to enter and also the name of the park it surrounded at the same time. The guide did not mention entering the park but I did anyway just for a sneak peak: yes, a park, not really too interesting. The first sight worth seeing was supposed to be <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sir_John_Soane%27s_Museum">Sir John Soane's Museum</a>, which I did not enter, but viewed from outside. The architect from georgian times rebuilt the building, as well as the neighbouring ones himself. Alright, nice to look at for a moment, but not too interesting. What I liked about using a guide though was that one directly has a few background information and that things are described that one might not have noticed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJsK6QNdvhBTBTPBymylsKK0oRD6ri0gjn62Zf2Ut2CsPlMkliRB4EGgxBvCZB_fFw9vsssjEuzuedO0zmEpJsK5oTTnxMZ1wN7uWpPh0bsjVXYp6maCxzarqm4xoCLvvjJSfIGsxT5hw/s200/CIMG0028+%28Medium%29.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="149" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My masterpiece!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7nadbw1K7se2_jbzqpbeBjNUGDRvA2NENZncQHQlqIl5MRZ4hLxh4ZFknNXNyxJmgWzdr_E2AjaN7Uo6pLuhfdOh_ev64Hi6Kzg4EWlfQYbfq2i5DU3l-w8jbFxRXdV6l_Md6G0KSi4o/s1600/CIMG0024+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7nadbw1K7se2_jbzqpbeBjNUGDRvA2NENZncQHQlqIl5MRZ4hLxh4ZFknNXNyxJmgWzdr_E2AjaN7Uo6pLuhfdOh_ev64Hi6Kzg4EWlfQYbfq2i5DU3l-w8jbFxRXdV6l_Md6G0KSi4o/s200/CIMG0024+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJsK6QNdvhBTBTPBymylsKK0oRD6ri0gjn62Zf2Ut2CsPlMkliRB4EGgxBvCZB_fFw9vsssjEuzuedO0zmEpJsK5oTTnxMZ1wN7uWpPh0bsjVXYp6maCxzarqm4xoCLvvjJSfIGsxT5hw/s1600/CIMG0028+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>Heading to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lincoln%27s_Inn">Lincoln's Inn</a> - one of the oldest Inns of Court - turned out to be a bit difficult as the BBC seemed to be busy doing something in there with trucks - ehrm lories - and waggons parked outside. Gary Rush, Niamh Cranitch and and Nick Slade - are those local celebrities? Never heard of them but they had their own waggons, however. Alright, taking on the 3rd side of the park - catching a glimpse already of the backside of the Royal Courts of Justice and the Royal College of Surgeons, I turned into Portssmouth St. The 1836 founded <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Royal_College_of_Surgeons_of_England">Royal College of Surgeons</a> now contains besides laboratories a anatomy museum, hence the corpses in the title. I found studying medicine always rather disturbing as I could neither look at corpses/body parts much less operate on them (let alone on living people always worrying of causing them any damages and so on). I am more than grateful that doctors and surgeons exist (duh), but then I sometimes think that you have to be at least slightly f*cked up to be capable of doing the things they do and did in college. Just a thought. Anyway.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhboE1VARNOifXpCzJGUDKFAjWwzB1sDPqfpPBJFF812A-W-tglQRR5xNfHfUE1R53inUfLymV6SQThiVWMaluF09rN9-NeYvH8raNXD2Xb-S-CbKY86EtDkH_shQLTG5pIqgs-IXSMeNk/s1600/CIMG0043+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhboE1VARNOifXpCzJGUDKFAjWwzB1sDPqfpPBJFF812A-W-tglQRR5xNfHfUE1R53inUfLymV6SQThiVWMaluF09rN9-NeYvH8raNXD2Xb-S-CbKY86EtDkH_shQLTG5pIqgs-IXSMeNk/s320/CIMG0043+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_Curiosity_Shop">The Old Curiosity Shop</a> I saw next may or may not be the name giver of the story by Charles Dicken's - but this building from the 17th century can give a slight impression of how the area looked like in that time (before the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Fire_of_London">Great Fire of London</a>). This is one of the most fascinating aspects of London: One old building can stand right next to an even older building standing beside a modern one.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV2L3a5In8ZRM2I44jxOPMJcYsEKUmERQBRBHUR-HiF7z_47kP3kGWT8Zm3Hla3_XJ1wmG6waeukgLe2Ksgqmki3iJ56LBk9nWiOC86My8Yh2ORxwmgv6wkyoSch5m-9QkhtalcF3x01U/s1600/CIMG0070+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV2L3a5In8ZRM2I44jxOPMJcYsEKUmERQBRBHUR-HiF7z_47kP3kGWT8Zm3Hla3_XJ1wmG6waeukgLe2Ksgqmki3iJ56LBk9nWiOC86My8Yh2ORxwmgv6wkyoSch5m-9QkhtalcF3x01U/s320/CIMG0070+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="320" /></a>From Portugal Street over Serle Street to Chancery Lane, this area really has to offer a lot of histrorical architecture and an atmosphere hard to describe. Old, but not the medieval kind of old but the sophisticated 18th century kind of old with a sophisticated nobleness, and the creative busyness that then gives you Fleet Street, that has been the home of many British newspapers.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmHuyNDnv9kZC5i0EZhsVcLMZBvbQlA0eYaaS-AMuP2ta4XHzZenAr2nHJlHhQVlFPKZBshXlj-btvR5CL5N94CipK-9dwiAofCtPsFNiXpW8R5ra9kM7qwKi0QyYseO-RMgPpdNdRmmU/s1600/CIMG0096+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmHuyNDnv9kZC5i0EZhsVcLMZBvbQlA0eYaaS-AMuP2ta4XHzZenAr2nHJlHhQVlFPKZBshXlj-btvR5CL5N94CipK-9dwiAofCtPsFNiXpW8R5ra9kM7qwKi0QyYseO-RMgPpdNdRmmU/s200/CIMG0096+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__iOXevOYvblZH5vMy4V8SACISm73DoNJx9AePUdN7Upb4oxH3rMJkuboYX83De4U988M3ishWdtvgP1mOO3JDE1w2U-uJJrjCE2YbBLc4eoxbtY6rf7tClrvZBCm1VQ33gVgF0vqWLw/s1600/CIMG0075+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__iOXevOYvblZH5vMy4V8SACISm73DoNJx9AePUdN7Upb4oxH3rMJkuboYX83De4U988M3ishWdtvgP1mOO3JDE1w2U-uJJrjCE2YbBLc4eoxbtY6rf7tClrvZBCm1VQ33gVgF0vqWLw/s200/CIMG0075+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7HO8L-q-GeUOUJ7lVYFP3OvZtoqZ8R5TRZFQPN1bvH99wgGA7LYZoZw48HzK2X4Yj7_-64s8uEbNzVsAK3OoZ3ChoaXgiPyGvh5cbeEADxrKJDVKvB_HK_rWeJ9kVNJWgc0GceAyusQ8/s1600/CIMG0083+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7HO8L-q-GeUOUJ7lVYFP3OvZtoqZ8R5TRZFQPN1bvH99wgGA7LYZoZw48HzK2X4Yj7_-64s8uEbNzVsAK3OoZ3ChoaXgiPyGvh5cbeEADxrKJDVKvB_HK_rWeJ9kVNJWgc0GceAyusQ8/s200/CIMG0083+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="149" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrT4hZHv0kLr6egxgetQRbBLZeV1q_LxyDMkOuOyoMbGPaHFjNiHLug1LOHMTABJq8KzMe79abce1qhdi8Ge9u6edvOOtNNT6OEqKjM4RXEN87X1CnMSKgr4X7mbmL20ToqbLW4CkokhU/s1600/CIMG0122+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrT4hZHv0kLr6egxgetQRbBLZeV1q_LxyDMkOuOyoMbGPaHFjNiHLug1LOHMTABJq8KzMe79abce1qhdi8Ge9u6edvOOtNNT6OEqKjM4RXEN87X1CnMSKgr4X7mbmL20ToqbLW4CkokhU/s320/CIMG0122+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>I was still following that guide, leading me through a tiny passage at Fleet Street that I never would have noticed ending in a little court with a gate that - was locked. Guide:failed. End of story. Cul-de-Sac. That was the moment when I decided to send the guide to hell and walk around just with my own gusto.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVltV9vjTsy_QEHYkYdLz68rKd_BZ_nCvADuKbAvlfL8sVvewYnYef4Lc_dFdPh33_Jc74dYhrdcRyOPC8SmJgRRc3P8uE2jlRAolgM22N507kAfEYSBRIMs2QgaEjzhKDhlhW-FfrzfE/s1600/CIMG0125+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVltV9vjTsy_QEHYkYdLz68rKd_BZ_nCvADuKbAvlfL8sVvewYnYef4Lc_dFdPh33_Jc74dYhrdcRyOPC8SmJgRRc3P8uE2jlRAolgM22N507kAfEYSBRIMs2QgaEjzhKDhlhW-FfrzfE/s320/CIMG0125+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifPN9M6HOe7eCpwOxtyk_aEM0JQrvhgwGMa-FCaD5gMAhXpjvSPFXb_Tyw8YJmHLxNJPHna-E7nEGJaPuuscsbGwQ6NNQi_Le64vtqnutCTLki5ZoGjJFZ-dE-h_TnQPTW-19XfJ1Tub4/s640/CIMG0133+%28Medium%29.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See how majestically the sun shines through the dreamy smog of London.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifPN9M6HOe7eCpwOxtyk_aEM0JQrvhgwGMa-FCaD5gMAhXpjvSPFXb_Tyw8YJmHLxNJPHna-E7nEGJaPuuscsbGwQ6NNQi_Le64vtqnutCTLki5ZoGjJFZ-dE-h_TnQPTW-19XfJ1Tub4/s1600/CIMG0133+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHdHWwNtSYm_uz3qyLxUYNOkYXQBd8ts3zdSZM9801f9fFVY8sNoVCJXX70aAKoIKWemzuIeDnnXOoquuwWMcQe0w5Jw-CNp49zq4S9Z1sVqy0RGASLqkFBZJfnzufDgYoVjQKzOMsDIQ/s1600/CIMG0136+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPhVG8okyljuoz16fm2JqZl7oXc2xMIFE45rm_UhXY7AfRyQ3566fBWkQ7eg8BK6VLzxDQBp6VSSYgifg2wmmJx5MhOQPAgawbpdcBOMh5Fqfa7RJw2wpsFTNHNlleRRH-djg2oT3YL8Q/s1600/CIMG0140+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPhVG8okyljuoz16fm2JqZl7oXc2xMIFE45rm_UhXY7AfRyQ3566fBWkQ7eg8BK6VLzxDQBp6VSSYgifg2wmmJx5MhOQPAgawbpdcBOMh5Fqfa7RJw2wpsFTNHNlleRRH-djg2oT3YL8Q/s200/CIMG0140+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="150" /></a><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHdHWwNtSYm_uz3qyLxUYNOkYXQBd8ts3zdSZM9801f9fFVY8sNoVCJXX70aAKoIKWemzuIeDnnXOoquuwWMcQe0w5Jw-CNp49zq4S9Z1sVqy0RGASLqkFBZJfnzufDgYoVjQKzOMsDIQ/s200/CIMG0136+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="149" /></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I went back to Fleet Street, finally having a look at the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Royal_Courts_of_Justice">Royal Court of Justice</a> from the frontside.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPvScm2YmTReXr_v3vDJOdPb3Q5Z92KMFVZO-CW9uz2Ni-rhXICox0VSt7X-JVSmQP_YEpz_mRkPoDFzB4asH2HjG7nZ3z7mDIotIzNyMae5Rc7NEW9xsGiUzsnnYpkzIRrlG0yPcC7jo/s1600/CIMG0153+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnKv4YJAeHyk2uUraaXDYeU4144UcEfoxdanZUlOGrXM0hys92Lw2O9lURrxT0J3VIYtSuLyCwVNWOdni3K59zzFXbJgU9B_bVGjZ0ZmU5Ap2Zr-G-f_JLGXd8E8uXJHDusGL34tq4oDk/s1600/CIMG0144+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnKv4YJAeHyk2uUraaXDYeU4144UcEfoxdanZUlOGrXM0hys92Lw2O9lURrxT0J3VIYtSuLyCwVNWOdni3K59zzFXbJgU9B_bVGjZ0ZmU5Ap2Zr-G-f_JLGXd8E8uXJHDusGL34tq4oDk/s200/CIMG0144+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="200" /></a><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPvScm2YmTReXr_v3vDJOdPb3Q5Z92KMFVZO-CW9uz2Ni-rhXICox0VSt7X-JVSmQP_YEpz_mRkPoDFzB4asH2HjG7nZ3z7mDIotIzNyMae5Rc7NEW9xsGiUzsnnYpkzIRrlG0yPcC7jo/s200/CIMG0153+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="150" />This victorian-gothic building could really be right out of a fantasy fairytale: Majestic, playful and dark at the same time, here is where I finally found the alluring dragon I have been longing for all day (please notice the lack of seriousness). The dragon - being actually a griffin - marks the border to the City of London.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgENXpiQU8nPPyRSvhY20-8mD-eiDDtWGS2RorPXUxWkJJ3Vph4CF4VY2iNPJMbke4bqPc9mApNtsCjHRBWEvVnymuD78LkEU5rkSJc49zCnAcXCCamaI2oUMrwczxRL9c85R8xWqJ6lZE/s1600/CIMG0170+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgENXpiQU8nPPyRSvhY20-8mD-eiDDtWGS2RorPXUxWkJJ3Vph4CF4VY2iNPJMbke4bqPc9mApNtsCjHRBWEvVnymuD78LkEU5rkSJc49zCnAcXCCamaI2oUMrwczxRL9c85R8xWqJ6lZE/s320/CIMG0170+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHxmOEOuRrHaY6BtDe5Gs6OfixbOaPHENCmO-wmjmeARDkFQjzVOde3UweZ858jjoLcSlWvxvpCvNHWbVlDhw5rfw5vCR64l34QhtIKFFjHMy654gyZBZDVb3fpedignveKcWx2BWK_Xo/s1600/CIMG0161+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHxmOEOuRrHaY6BtDe5Gs6OfixbOaPHENCmO-wmjmeARDkFQjzVOde3UweZ858jjoLcSlWvxvpCvNHWbVlDhw5rfw5vCR64l34QhtIKFFjHMy654gyZBZDVb3fpedignveKcWx2BWK_Xo/s320/CIMG0161+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzTVUQynwl0owIf8bSIIHRtCj2uwR7xkWFKx9pEIbzSEpNEIKSLGg0tVy6PPMmu1plHODRwAbA8vDTePp7NCOzXS9YfLjHMcj5akOl-ul52WoiMIkMPa7bNt6He4iK3fzVVL2-bBRqBps/s1600/CIMG0183+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzTVUQynwl0owIf8bSIIHRtCj2uwR7xkWFKx9pEIbzSEpNEIKSLGg0tVy6PPMmu1plHODRwAbA8vDTePp7NCOzXS9YfLjHMcj5akOl-ul52WoiMIkMPa7bNt6He4iK3fzVVL2-bBRqBps/s320/CIMG0183+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqeTyNucytZucxhyq4cXXfZUMV8caaNdXQFPGG75sgfiZ6ELH2Iw8_dDSpnd5D6JAsW8ZeJp92OvX9QFNzpr3XPq1wfgq4PgEpgfjbeFH0PXdhLD1w1Lg3Fa189o8cQj8D9VS8jpk2u8s/s1600/CIMG0192+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqeTyNucytZucxhyq4cXXfZUMV8caaNdXQFPGG75sgfiZ6ELH2Iw8_dDSpnd5D6JAsW8ZeJp92OvX9QFNzpr3XPq1wfgq4PgEpgfjbeFH0PXdhLD1w1Lg3Fa189o8cQj8D9VS8jpk2u8s/s200/CIMG0192+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4lXZ7ZoymL97ug5Jh6tDSeaYq0Z786Um9DkbbwH_cfxZ-2TaUcSblLPU_lB3lPqYhVKXcliFq4p2veYeCwwDELUwczgd3wzex_DqD9is-7iRk2cOfulwWPYtmxdtFNFs7TH1NALbuMqk/s1600/CIMG0178+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4lXZ7ZoymL97ug5Jh6tDSeaYq0Z786Um9DkbbwH_cfxZ-2TaUcSblLPU_lB3lPqYhVKXcliFq4p2veYeCwwDELUwczgd3wzex_DqD9is-7iRk2cOfulwWPYtmxdtFNFs7TH1NALbuMqk/s200/CIMG0178+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="200" /></a>I aimlessly walked down, almost to the riverside, finding a lory loaded with something that seemed to be a very old coal waggon. I am always very pleased by those kind of coincidents. Me randomly walking around London, finding a rather deserted place with such a temporary sight. Brilliant. Those kind of things remind me of the one week I spent in Paris last year when we rather spontaneously decided to go to the Arc de Triomphe where unforeseen a parade was taking place with people playing trumpets and so on and minutes later while walking down Champs-Élysées a red bus passed us with wig-wearing people on top singing songs by the Beatles. Kismet.<br />
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Anyway, quite close was a small park with a memorial and not a lot else to see, so I went back to the Court of Justice, walked down another street and found something I have never seen or heard of before:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>What lay in front of me was the court of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Somerset_House">Somerset House</a>. Open to the public, very nice at dusk with not too many people around, I rested there for a while before I looked out for something to eat. Eating out alone always is a bit awkward and my experiences have been rather on the bad side but still: I had not eaten so far and was not even too picky. Not very far away was a Garfunkel's - a chain I had already noticed. I decided to eat there and naturally was given the worst place in the restaurant: right at the front, at the window next to the stairs down to the toilets. Fabulous. But - hungry - dinmatter. I ordered the chicken and rib combo along with chips and a sad tiny portion of coleslaw but tasty nevertheless.<br />
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About guides. If you really don't know what to do and need some inspiration, there you go. While the walks described in mine seem to be well-thought-out, keep in mind that they can never be as recent as the day you set out for them so obstacles may occur. Considering them a vague guideline might be the best idea with the background information being interesting but seriously, who walks to check a book all the time when walking around?TPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05859356900889164252noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2255066661749398790.post-23599280787143833652010-10-24T22:29:00.001+01:002010-10-24T22:36:00.859+01:00Stonehenge and Bath in a Rush.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsgQQbjWqn1VTt11FclxzvxJyuDoOxmr_cCykEoWhbbBB3UpYUGUd9CJl50YfDkNeJShjMLPfull77syJSdwC8XyBu4hGglk9fliqkJCbg44HMYbUQYBLBP0H5yUqOVWKruSPy9zvttSk/s1600/CIMG0056+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsgQQbjWqn1VTt11FclxzvxJyuDoOxmr_cCykEoWhbbBB3UpYUGUd9CJl50YfDkNeJShjMLPfull77syJSdwC8XyBu4hGglk9fliqkJCbg44HMYbUQYBLBP0H5yUqOVWKruSPy9zvttSk/s320/CIMG0056+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="320" /></a>Geee, I just can't believe how time flies. Octobre is coming to an end and half of my internship is over already. :< I am honestly considering applying for my master's degree at a uni here in London. Just a thought I had without any definite plans or anything. Who knows... I just... Going back to Hanover will be difficult.<span id="goog_1358275610"></span><span id="goog_1358275611"></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdfWE5pNUmQyXrwEW1FDLvBR5NA7uXBAuXJR8Ds3c-iu5jR_WgD3QW4BPiVrHsgafpLkfbhaaLbnBVhL6F8YXE-AMFKe97v5illJ17P2zf9wUkKKKHcCwrhhSC989m-OjByz9_YxbBY48/s1600/CIMG0093+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdfWE5pNUmQyXrwEW1FDLvBR5NA7uXBAuXJR8Ds3c-iu5jR_WgD3QW4BPiVrHsgafpLkfbhaaLbnBVhL6F8YXE-AMFKe97v5illJ17P2zf9wUkKKKHcCwrhhSC989m-OjByz9_YxbBY48/s320/CIMG0093+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="240" /></a>Anyway, on Octobre 9th I went with Katja to... STONEHENGE and BATH! We booked one of those bus tours for 54GBP I think it was which is great on the one hand as the price is not too bad I'd say but on the other hand, the time you actually get to spend there is completely determined by other. They gave us 1 hour for stonehenge which is plenty considering that despite stonehenge being stonehenge - mysterious, fascinating and so on - in the end, there are just some stones in a circle; you've pretty much seen everything after 60 minutes. Entry was included in those 54GBP so we did not have to queue at all as was the audioguide available in quite a few languages. I made myself listen to it for a while but just gave up after maybe 10 minutes - c'mon, I'm was not there to listen to some boring ass crap I would have forgotten ten minutes later anyway. I know me and how that works - I listened to it all the way through Fontainebleau when I was in Paris and does anybody think that I retained at least on thing in my head? Nope. <br />
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I want to be honest - stonehenge was pretty much a letdown. Not only was it way smaller than I thought it was but also way too crowded and they would not even let you get close to the stones as it was fenced off. So all the pictures are from quite a distance. I mean, I completely understand why they do so - they want to maintain the formation as good as possible but is kinda destroys the amosphere. Don't get me wrong. I'm glad I was there and I don't want to miss the experience, but it just cannot keep up with its reputation. Interesting - but just too tiny to be impressive.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQkBPlurG8WGAAqF0nMXmfy7RYRhiOg4OhmWwvvEoTXXFpjrPI4ajR1WW-Y6TNCcDcdkxSRdoziZANKg2uTZKKeJKZHUMa_zHOtmIIkuXbGbIFncSNKWezZIZWTvp6TawRC6GRD1Dry90/s1600/CIMG0196+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQkBPlurG8WGAAqF0nMXmfy7RYRhiOg4OhmWwvvEoTXXFpjrPI4ajR1WW-Y6TNCcDcdkxSRdoziZANKg2uTZKKeJKZHUMa_zHOtmIIkuXbGbIFncSNKWezZIZWTvp6TawRC6GRD1Dry90/s200/CIMG0196+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>Speaking about tiny. So was our tour guide. That short, sturdy dark-haired early thirties woman I'd say being just a little too perky and friendly to be real. I'm with the client service girls - I know how that works when they're on the phone. I'm not complaining here, that is exactly what her job requires and other people (want to) buy that so she was pretty good at it. What I am complaining about indeed are people that don't know how to be on time when a whole bus (well, it was not really full to be honest) is waiting for them. When you are told when to be back - be back. I don't want to see you leisurely getting on the bus late because you just had to get into that 10 minute queue for a bloody overpriced SAMMICH. What I WANT to do in those cases is to rub that bloody thing in your bloody face especially when looking at your ignorant, completely oblivious face. I hope it gave you heartburn or something. I just cannot stand that kind of inconsideration, you gain in lunch is my loss in time - keeping in mind that WE actually abandoned to get something to eat (much less staying in the souvenir shop for more than a minute). Nevermind.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1JdeH-IJKsHd2Eb04N3H859FtRXfDFmvYf81sGc0JcEjC2udhCYT1_ef0xiEgBgmHRYBlXhT321Y2EmZtlx8loAKm7-yrbCw5vn161vHaKrcGKLiB1fKT6Ba_odap-uOUkbt9BZeOD4g/s1600/CIMG0223+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1JdeH-IJKsHd2Eb04N3H859FtRXfDFmvYf81sGc0JcEjC2udhCYT1_ef0xiEgBgmHRYBlXhT321Y2EmZtlx8loAKm7-yrbCw5vn161vHaKrcGKLiB1fKT6Ba_odap-uOUkbt9BZeOD4g/s320/CIMG0223+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="240" /></a>They gave us only 3 hours for the Roman baths (now a museum) and sightseeing which is simply not enough if you want to do it right. Katja and I quickly agreed on three main sights we needed to see (The Circus, The Royal Crescent and the Pulteney Bridge) and set off to the museum (which was included again) with me taking pictures and Katja shouting random facts at me she listened to on the audioguide. Hurrying through the baths in about and hour, devouring a nice yet overpriced lunch (steak with chips, some salad and garlic bread) in a quite posh restaurant (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grand_Pump_Room,_Bath">Grand Pump Room</a>) with live ensemble in 30 minutes, we continued to view the town in a rush, taking most of the pictures while walking. Jane Austen 'museum' with weird costumed guy standing at the front our guide was befriended with as she greeted him already when we were still on the bus (she commanded us to wave and blow kisses at him. Well...) - check. Never read Jane Austen but hey, while we're here. It seemed to be one of those privately-ran small town museums closer to a junk-shop than to anything else we might even have checked out when there would have been more time on our hands.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Circus</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Circus_%28Bath%29">The Circus</a> first (we were given a map while still with the group which turned out to be quite <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgduymFDlUf0sL8bRGI_11gU4j2iOjC6BdH9iPSgi90AgiRjbzcnxJB2P8Q_m3MyoCsK2BpzOzhxfzYwdTt8TdG-yEUe4sRsg2T-YWL5T_M60yHadEwtvpK4SvRpZsAaCOoXNk8_0fWiok/s1600/CIMG0304+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>adequate so the orientation was not too bad apparently; Katja was completely in charge of that as I'm a person that seems to constantly go into the exact opposite direction than desired). Check. Alright, interesting and quite a nice view with the trees in the centre. Moving on up to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Royal_Crescent">The Royal Crescent</a>. Nice. There seemed to be some kind of festival on the green areas around that place.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Royal Crescent</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGHWmLHrhB-_vUbEIK2ruhZOJgv2d-Pn7LHpPmXp7gKYWnx7XdtinFwDtlQi5N06BKVdh3qT2q83VhB9ytTjyBe34lXcZwJpxzO6vcfhbuFf2aD_zWSWiATK_EjvusS00HJdUzehZnQYU/s1600/CIMG0308+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>As I said, we completely hurried through the town withouth having had enough time to really get a strong impression of the areas and to put deeper thought in it, inhaling the atmosphere which is such a shame so my two cents are rather shallow on these ones.<br />
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Next and final "must see" was the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pulteney_Bridge">Pulteney Bridge</a>. Alright, the route was not too difficult. Go to the left at this junction, to the right at the next and - lost. Well not really. It took us only about 10 minutes to realise that the way we were on was certainly not the right one and go back. Whatev - we saw some more of the town and a 'mini Camden Market' as she named it - a small vintage car boot sale.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5EBykPKmw1oiYeHy_IO3ClIq0xgQj9tBgwsJIhJBG6qhR5EgdKZmgV0oX3PQ7mBQDYsxzefcERr5U3cxaWeBp_VYex86M4FV4SCpicirPasfd3Ok0I0P4LlBS2HsVxjJlwop2Za2cv8I/s1600/CIMG0333+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5EBykPKmw1oiYeHy_IO3ClIq0xgQj9tBgwsJIhJBG6qhR5EgdKZmgV0oX3PQ7mBQDYsxzefcERr5U3cxaWeBp_VYex86M4FV4SCpicirPasfd3Ok0I0P4LlBS2HsVxjJlwop2Za2cv8I/s320/CIMG0333+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="320" /></a>When we finally arrived at the bridge, we had some more time to linger. From architectural perspective is this bridge finished in 1773 not only beautiful but also quite unique with only 3 of this kind existing all over the world. One here, one in Venice and the other... somewhere else. You cannot really see that it is a bridge when directly on it as it appears to be a common street lined with terrace houses, then. We stood there for a while enjoying the view, regretting that we did not have enough time to drink some coffee (cocoa for Kätcha that would have been) and rest in the little park beneath the bridge. I was trying to squeeze out some pictures of my low battery-ed camera while she was trying to be on those (Me: Let me just take another picture from this side... K, saying 'What? You want to take a picture of me?' merciless striking a pose all over the railing...).<br />
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On the way back to the coach we grabbed some hot chocolate at Nero along with some yummy brownies and made our way back to London, taking a short unspectacular walk at Earl's Court before calling it a night.<br />
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Would I recommend those coach tours? Yes and no. It was a convenient and practical way to see those two locations with the time we had at stonehenge having been more than enough and due to the tickets already been included there was no need to get in the rather long queues at any place. However, when moving on to Bath, I came to the conclusion that one should either take their time to enjoy the city or go to the museum, as there honestly was at least one hour missing to do both properly.TPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05859356900889164252noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2255066661749398790.post-82176108198868467402010-10-07T21:43:00.000+01:002010-10-07T21:43:38.654+01:00Wet Waste of Time and a Haunted London Uncannily DisappointingAlright, big delay, I know. Sorry about that. As it recently was my mother's birthday, I was back in Germany for just one night over the weekend, hence the neglect. Sure it was nice being home for a few hours - so to say - but I almost could not wait to be back in London again. Love it. Oh yeah. Try getting from Hamlet on the Street... erm. alright, the dump that is called STREATHAM to Liverpool Street Station and then to Stansted in the middle of the night. Good luck with that. I got up at 2:40 AM, walked up to Becmead Avenue hoping for the night bus to come who was supposed to take me there. I actually was assured that the night buses are just as reliable as the buses at daytime - but that might not mean a lot. I looked up the route on the tfl website. Two days prior I already went up to Becmean just to make sure that I know how to get there (not difficult - found the station right away). The bus came on time - it just did not serve Liverpool Street Station (which was to be the final destination). Awesome. For some reason it ended at Elephant and Castle. Nobody knows why. Nobody. I had the chance to enjoy that feeling that I might not make it to the airport on time and that I honestly don't know how to get to f*cking Liverpool Street in the middle of the night - for about 12 minutes. That's when the next bus arrived. To Liverpool Street Station. Thank. God. It was the second time now that the London transport page gave me the wrong information while it should actually be the most trustworthy source. It is always busy here. Never would you have believed that it was 3:00 am (despite the two foxes I saw). People. Cars. Streetlife. Open stores and restaurants. Once I arrived at the station, everything went smoothly. Although I was not aware that a ticket to Stansted costs 20 Pound one way, or 30 with return. Ridiculous. The bus only takes 8 Pound when you leave at the first station and 10 when you get off at - say - Bakerloo. It might take longer but it is cheaper in the end.<br />
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That was what is to say about my last weekend.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4PXRPGm6EIQMcn56LsMIdkS2lBhrZ6rIruyD1N7ZSOygnZOcBcfJlX7tBe6PiRvcF5NWrz3Tuq21w51HVmnCIOA3HnBB_U4A97MY8wa7PZ0Q2v_P4moCwF_R_5ynkTY0PyB5bV510wMg/s1600/CIMG0188+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4PXRPGm6EIQMcn56LsMIdkS2lBhrZ6rIruyD1N7ZSOygnZOcBcfJlX7tBe6PiRvcF5NWrz3Tuq21w51HVmnCIOA3HnBB_U4A97MY8wa7PZ0Q2v_P4moCwF_R_5ynkTY0PyB5bV510wMg/s200/CIMG0188+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="200" /></a>The Sunday before was supposed to be Regent Street Festival with "Fashion and Food" being the Motto. I was there, yes, but there was no festival. Well, there HAVE been a few stalls and a very sad looking merry-go-round - but it was literally ruined by the rain. It was beneath a tent with people trying to avoid the water rather than listening to the music where I heard the saddest rendition of Billie Holiday's 'Summertime' ever. The women that played the tune probably felt the same way - just look at their faces...<br />
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I just walked pretty much through Regent Street up to a suprisingly empty Piccadilly Circus straight to China Town for lunch. A decision I regretted afterwards. I settled for a newly opened all you can eat buffet restaurant with a 10 pound offer plus one free drink. Most restaurants - and there are plenty of them as china town pretty much consists of places to eat - offer buffets. I might have been the fact that I was alone, or that I might have looked like a gluttonous pig to them - who knows - but they gave me the crappiest table in the restaurant which I only realised after sitting down after the first walk to the buffet with a hardly filled plate (that's the concept of all you can eat - you can come back to the buffet for more). I noticed that if all seats around me were taken, I would have been pretty much caged. It's not like the place was really full, they just always put you to the front so it looks like that from outside (many people = good food). It is rather awkward to always ask people to stand up for you while they are trying to eat (if I'd been that person, it would have bothered me as well), so I just got up once again, coming back with an embarressingly full plate. The food was okay, but I just wanted to finish ASAP and leave - what I did. That was that Sunday (26/09/10).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszY4pY__W3XEaCh5YZmiyfdFrTxo-4t_88tpR8SBK3tNA6rSZHUrNhZAowf7GuGCJgQWL2tNPzZlr8C1gbr8HN4qHJswhWYKnpUTouzEYknxYmhoycRT8yJsXn2vZE-c54Bl9fLSxuBk/s1600/CIMG0194+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszY4pY__W3XEaCh5YZmiyfdFrTxo-4t_88tpR8SBK3tNA6rSZHUrNhZAowf7GuGCJgQWL2tNPzZlr8C1gbr8HN4qHJswhWYKnpUTouzEYknxYmhoycRT8yJsXn2vZE-c54Bl9fLSxuBk/s200/CIMG0194+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9w2urbAdtcBD_ibq-oKJsfjXQxG1aesaN_dldiN8p0P1ACKdG5VS51OIUWlRL4t4JFoHLaX1qe8JMdPFdrKAye6NLnKyLbY4NZ1zVE7hpSC5Kt4kF91SC0hQwKHSmwWsaQiq5cIEZzUc/s1600/CIMG0198+-+Kopie+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9w2urbAdtcBD_ibq-oKJsfjXQxG1aesaN_dldiN8p0P1ACKdG5VS51OIUWlRL4t4JFoHLaX1qe8JMdPFdrKAye6NLnKyLbY4NZ1zVE7hpSC5Kt4kF91SC0hQwKHSmwWsaQiq5cIEZzUc/s200/CIMG0198+-+Kopie+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiacGfPXQ84dImdZXO8GN9p5wzCMmghHdi7lFek6RTlkXEkHosX2R0bekshvWa6_iBRiW8JUHB1Fb0f1WCQoH9CPSIsPcOqxbR7cWxyG8BXEHBiCFCtSyyuNJzzVfpfhdtjVHNdmM1aj_M/s1600/CIMG0006+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiacGfPXQ84dImdZXO8GN9p5wzCMmghHdi7lFek6RTlkXEkHosX2R0bekshvWa6_iBRiW8JUHB1Fb0f1WCQoH9CPSIsPcOqxbR7cWxyG8BXEHBiCFCtSyyuNJzzVfpfhdtjVHNdmM1aj_M/s320/CIMG0006+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>On Friday the 1st, I attended one of those many so called London Walks - guided walks through areas of London based on a certain theme - together with Katja. I had high expectations. And was rather gutted. This walk's theme was "Haunted London" and I expected a creepy tour with well told, dreadful stories. The stories were dreadful at times, but the guide was a dislikable guy hastily telling them in a way that made it easy to realise that he did that way too often already. No atmosphere, no nothing, It was nice walking through Central London (it started at Monument) in the evening through the rain, sure, but it surely would have been nicer without the guide and without wasting the 6 pounds we paid (8 if you aren't a student). Not too much, but still.<br />
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The Gherkin and the Lloyd's building are impressive, nevertheless. Too bad we were in such a rush due to the guide that there was no good moment for taking decent pictures...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>TPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05859356900889164252noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2255066661749398790.post-51102997181184987342010-09-26T22:59:00.001+01:002010-09-27T20:25:40.059+01:00Day 25: Kismet's CallingSometimes the best walks are the spontaneous ones.<br />
I absolutely did not know what to do yesterday. I got up rather early for a Saturday (about 9 am), had the usual breakfast, took a shower, did the laundry, chatted on skype, did some blogging and so on. After checking the timeout London newsletter I considered seeing an expedition about experimental food for 5 pounds, but as it was afternoon already and it was about to end at 5 I abandoned the idea. Well, why not just go to Hyde Park, see what people at the Speaker's Corner had to say leave a little through my book.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ACFfl6jJoK2xnxLU5m70uVAWBg0xhkARapB74J1vx70nYxHMt2tT4Gm935CSq5jPI6T5-fKZmAwLxby6HQNmoVksHCsgx-pnt8ai4Ch2o62djDZr1TUmLabkHM-AM8gPBFuVQnf72tA/s1600/CIMG0002+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ACFfl6jJoK2xnxLU5m70uVAWBg0xhkARapB74J1vx70nYxHMt2tT4Gm935CSq5jPI6T5-fKZmAwLxby6HQNmoVksHCsgx-pnt8ai4Ch2o62djDZr1TUmLabkHM-AM8gPBFuVQnf72tA/s320/CIMG0002+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-oD6F9VfoIjrpx5_bdZNQSWFi7zJ3kVXxHy-FKmTZqSo2rJmVOBjEiCOiGUDfuc2iAFVJ5ME87mCYkqnO0TI_nxdYQ6TMvR-1bA0V2OEcaDKG-eaCdiXEhtr-hZMpgEP3KziiAtb193I/s1600/CIMG0003+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-oD6F9VfoIjrpx5_bdZNQSWFi7zJ3kVXxHy-FKmTZqSo2rJmVOBjEiCOiGUDfuc2iAFVJ5ME87mCYkqnO0TI_nxdYQ6TMvR-1bA0V2OEcaDKG-eaCdiXEhtr-hZMpgEP3KziiAtb193I/s320/CIMG0003+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="320" /></a>That was the plan. I never got to Hyde Park. As they always try to only do construction works on the tube at the weekend, you need to be aware of that when being in London. While I am, the Northern Line always seemed to be very reliable so far and everything was roughly planned out (ok, rather in the "we'll see what happens" manner), so it was quite suprising when right before arriving Bank Station, an announcement was made that the station could not be serviced at his point. Fudge. So I got off at London Bridge Station for the hundredth time, seeing what I could do. Take the cruiser to Greenwich? Naaah, not in the mood. So I pretty much just kept on walking for a while, passing over Tower Bridge, walking in the sun along the waterside, eating an overpriced but luscious pistachio macaron from Paul's along with a mocha. As there was a Wagamama right around the corner I decided to have my late lunch/early breakfast there. No too good of an idea. The place was rather empty (maybe 5 more people inside) and the forcefully friendly waiter gave me one or too weird looks I could not really figure out. Dunno, hard to explain. I decided for the Wagamama Ramen along with duck dumplings as a side. Ramen: not really delicious (I did not feel like taking a picture, sorry). Watery miso soup, usual noodles with very little chicken, some half-assed fried tofu, one little slice of narutomaki with one sad little shrimp, nori and some undefinable fresh green stuff. Seemed like they just threw in the little rests they had. The duck dumplings really were tasty, especially that cherry-hoisin sauce that came long with it. I will definitely try to reproduce it at some point when I get back to Germany. Nevermind. I paid and walked further for a while until I reached Monument Station.<br />
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Monument Station is one of those stations you will come across more often than others as it is a junction for quite a few lines (along with Bank since they are interlinked) located directly in Central London. So I already changed lines a few times in the underground, but never actually got off there.<br />
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Although the station is called MONUMENT - who would have thought... that there actually IS a MONUMENT right at the exit? Maybe I'm stupid. Maybe I just never gave it a thought. I mean, there is a station called Angel, but would you actually expect a seraphic figure there? Or Elephant and Castle...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglauTlMJ2pVMfHYLicmYqSgY3vIwk6XO8Qe9X16WVe7cysALH6-El4bFR9mqTxwJi6a6yxlKu2ID31CA-oY4kARapVGrf_nlKzUD1PL_Nby4oBMLQwPUYfmEdGIjjPLA4jka6KwWN62LU/s1600/CIMG0045+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglauTlMJ2pVMfHYLicmYqSgY3vIwk6XO8Qe9X16WVe7cysALH6-El4bFR9mqTxwJi6a6yxlKu2ID31CA-oY4kARapVGrf_nlKzUD1PL_Nby4oBMLQwPUYfmEdGIjjPLA4jka6KwWN62LU/s200/CIMG0045+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhikQqnwckeOvOVVzF910nkq6NbeMCncgntTwMQAp2hqmW37uEFgk_zz3LnYr5GvHS-UVsR3ZWoMOE1DULn7EoFEsaC5Au_iZ9rnj8kkzotI-YC09s1z7apgdMumSoJFf-FwqBQeRg4zUs/s1600/CIMG0046+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhikQqnwckeOvOVVzF910nkq6NbeMCncgntTwMQAp2hqmW37uEFgk_zz3LnYr5GvHS-UVsR3ZWoMOE1DULn7EoFEsaC5Au_iZ9rnj8kkzotI-YC09s1z7apgdMumSoJFf-FwqBQeRg4zUs/s200/CIMG0046+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="150" /></a>The actual monument (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monument_to_the_Great_Fire_of_London) is quite impressive with a height of about 61,6 metres. That was the moment where I decided why not taking a walk through the City of London from the monument to St. Pauls Cathedral - so I did. You would be amazed of how deserted the area is at Saturday evening. Really peaceful and calm - you could almost pass the streets withought checking the sides (ALMOST). So I took my time exploring the area, not taking the direct way but rather passing small alleys looking what might be to be found there (frankly, I could not name most of the sights I've seen. Maybe I should go back with a guide or something next time). It's fascinating how there are still old, historical buildings side by side with recent (or at least post-war) ones. One of the unforeseen sights I saw was St. Mary Abchurch - hardly noticable between all those tall buildings so close there is no way to actual have a good few of it. The reproduction of boys' heads you can find there will haunt your dreams.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sleep tight - we're waiting for you...</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI5PH94KHRarTF9KiCg60i3b5eqwhuXQyui0_ppa8ImYqiMP4PF3E5AdhQm5GRQT_TmuHrBy1Gu-MVvY6-JkTk95DdQhrEsT_Q42EdMLqHkMToFbhiAmGBcPc-zyc34C8RtEFp-mGSS6s/s1600/CIMG0063+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI5PH94KHRarTF9KiCg60i3b5eqwhuXQyui0_ppa8ImYqiMP4PF3E5AdhQm5GRQT_TmuHrBy1Gu-MVvY6-JkTk95DdQhrEsT_Q42EdMLqHkMToFbhiAmGBcPc-zyc34C8RtEFp-mGSS6s/s200/CIMG0063+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="200" /></a> Further along I came across a variety of sights nameless for me, until I finally reached St. Paul's. I don't know why, but it always had a certain allure to me. Such a characteristic view for London, being the city's Notre Dame in my humble opinion. And while it is nice being right at its feet, walking through its small garden with roses and other plants as well as a spring and sculptures, and being able to see all those ornamental details at close range - St. Paul's real fascination really evolves when viewed from quite a distance.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh the horror! Not again...</td></tr>
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And while it cannot keep up with its romanticization in <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XHrRxQVUFN4">Mary Poppins</a>, the tune still lingered in my head.<br />
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So, although starting with little motivation to really make something out of the day, I think I had one of the nicest walks I've had so far - thanks to unforeseen coincidences.TPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05859356900889164252noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2255066661749398790.post-2662254804515946472010-09-26T02:01:00.002+01:002010-09-26T13:31:40.416+01:00Day 16-24: You really get Portobello Mushrooms at Portobello Market!Just something to get started: This is what I see when I look out of the window at work.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU3wTi0RsUUa7bcBYxYB2gvNm1PLTjw4mH4-l6zh7WvfayoC937J7qDM2IPaFKVcP0mUJymzXiHfLedlDWAhgpmTLD52xYnBO78uwmKp1qyHbJ0YP3Gyb4J9NbtUIrr_VLThLyXXo4Ulo/s1600/CIMG0022+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU3wTi0RsUUa7bcBYxYB2gvNm1PLTjw4mH4-l6zh7WvfayoC937J7qDM2IPaFKVcP0mUJymzXiHfLedlDWAhgpmTLD52xYnBO78uwmKp1qyHbJ0YP3Gyb4J9NbtUIrr_VLThLyXXo4Ulo/s320/CIMG0022+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>I took this photo in an all sneaky manner, so that (hopefully) nobody noticed. I'm cool with taking pictures of my food in public now, but at work it's kinda awkward and and tourist-y. I cannot really complain about work. People are talking to me more and more and there a some that I like and vice versa, so I'm quite fond of going to work everyday, actually.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUmOHVcXbTXjMhg26_SzKklOFZfliCWZT69luYBFjKmJgHo_G9mgxHkxLTP2lxswBA7au75g68NiG4pXB10ouXh-djqvPkoTPcAEI1SZRgb6xA0w0aZQj-Auo8N7cEckfrFliPF68hl0/s1600/CIMG0023+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span id="goog_480695223"></span><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUmOHVcXbTXjMhg26_SzKklOFZfliCWZT69luYBFjKmJgHo_G9mgxHkxLTP2lxswBA7au75g68NiG4pXB10ouXh-djqvPkoTPcAEI1SZRgb6xA0w0aZQj-Auo8N7cEckfrFliPF68hl0/s320/CIMG0023+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="320" /><span id="goog_480695224"></span></a>Last Saturday I went to Portobello Market. It was right before my mother's birthday so the plan was to get her something from there. Located in Notting Hill, Portobello Market is a generic vegetable street market during weekdays but expands to an antique and vintage market on Saturday. The best way to get there is from Notting Hill Station and really just by following the crowd - hard to miss then and it's honestly not far. I read somewhere that it was supposed to be open until 7 pm, so I did everything but hurry and arrived at about 4. Too bad that it went actually until 5.30 with the good stalls already starting to pack so I was rather stressed after realising that - thus so little pictures as my main goal really was finding a present.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnZ45zzUdOKUfaBKY33FzHFOUc9NUPd00QnEgyGpBHzS6mFHhKZByvZaa3KeP2e9irSYt_PmDa2v-HsUL8SDNVmoIBVQSQ7lBZRW2aBWV46th8_TU-L-fQltWXwGLB5B-vKVZ7SkfOFyQ/s1600/CIMG0025+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnZ45zzUdOKUfaBKY33FzHFOUc9NUPd00QnEgyGpBHzS6mFHhKZByvZaa3KeP2e9irSYt_PmDa2v-HsUL8SDNVmoIBVQSQ7lBZRW2aBWV46th8_TU-L-fQltWXwGLB5B-vKVZ7SkfOFyQ/s320/CIMG0025+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="320" /></a>The majority of antique dealers actually had their constant shops inside and when looking at the facades of the buildings it is actually hard to imagine how deep they actually go. One antique market hall next to another, so to say. The atmosphere reminded me very much of Camden Market, but less crackhouse chique and more posh. Oh, and really really expensive if you really want to go for the antiques. I expected something resembling a fleamarket to be honest but what you find are actual antiques and porcelain merchants so be aware of that. May it be jewellery, silverware, china, furniture, vases and so on - it's at Portobello's and it's pretty - it really it. Along with vintage clothes and accessories as well as new creations that fit into that kind of style. I actually was really really stressed and slightly panicking as finding something nice, thoughtful and affordable turned out to be more difficult than expected (I always put a lot of thought into giving presents as I really want the other person to like it. Still feel uncomfortable reveiving presents, though). I started to get pissed as all those other people seemed to be so terribly slow and rude, always purposely standing in or crossing my way! That was of course all in my head and I was very aware of that - it's just how it seems to be when you are in a hurry, right? ;)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtUJTgCOZB3azZsMeCo1bdgA1_muPrCNXcqIac1051YTvyNXNedtTh2Ql73yfuMZLSmzY_lTdDO-lj3o3g5R0qYsQ1JvH6z20hdtD-GJzT6rgBbqL8X7quWLHBAZcSCDS2aENREgi5CLE/s1600/CIMG0030+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtUJTgCOZB3azZsMeCo1bdgA1_muPrCNXcqIac1051YTvyNXNedtTh2Ql73yfuMZLSmzY_lTdDO-lj3o3g5R0qYsQ1JvH6z20hdtD-GJzT6rgBbqL8X7quWLHBAZcSCDS2aENREgi5CLE/s320/CIMG0030+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>After finding something, I was finally able to relax for a second and get myself something to munch on. I settled on a delicious vegan falafel wrap with aubergine/eggplant for 4 pounds (3.50+aubergine), sat down on a traffic refuge - there weren't that many cards passing, anyway - listened to troubadour singing Elvis songs and trying to avoid the sauce dripping from my dinner. I went on buying myself about a kilo of tasty and fresh grapes for 1 pound or 1.20 - actually not too fresh, slightly brownish at some areas but still very very yummy - for later, passing a shop selling super expensive, delicious smelling hand-made soap and other things. Lushy it was called and the soap looked like broken parmesan with something like a honey-coloured, comb-strucured glaze on top - and cost a fortune.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I spent the whole Sunday with Katja. She had an appointment in Shortlands - south-east London - and I came along. Believe me, getting from Streatham to Shortlands really is an adventure, but one worth the effort. It was Sunday and I wrote down a route the tfl - transport for London website - suggested me. It later turned out that there would have been a probably longer but assured way - but nevermind. I only went by bus with one change. Taking the bus is a rather tricky matter here in London - they might not show up, be late or just ignore you (what happened to me today and that fucker of a driver looked me write in the eyes... There are some stations the buses only stop when you wave at them and so I did. Greasy, bloated, dumb-looking little bastard). In my case, the first bus I had to take not only had a different destination than what the tfl said - that later thankfully changed directly into the one I needed to get off - it did not even stop there. Actually the destination the bus was supposed to stop turned out to be right around the corner, but if you are unfamiliar with the route, you wouldn't know. I was supposed to change at Crystal Palace and the bus right after the one I just had to leave was named that way, so I hopped on it and asked for a zone 4 ticket as my final destination was there and my oyster cards only reached zone 3. I tried to get that one on the first bus as well but the driver refused to sell it to me and I still don't know if they really just don't or if he was not in the mood as I saw him selling SOMETHING to somebody else later, but nevermind. Anyway, the busdriver of the one I just got on not only asked me where I actually wanted to go, but took me with him for one station for free so to say and told me exactly how to get there and which bus to take. Friendliest. Busdriver. Ever.<br />
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That reminds me of an incident the Czech girl that lived here on my first week told me about. A bus stopped right next to her with the driving lady shouting "hey". Not realising that she meant her, the girl went on, with another "hey" following. It turned out that she dropped her pullover a few metres before and the driver just wanted to tell her. So some busdrivers really are nice here.<br />
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After Katja's appointment we went on for lunch in Brixton. Again I ate at Bamboula - the place I've been before twice - but this time I was rather disappointed. We were really hungry so I was not in the mood to extensively search for the entry of the market so we went there almost directly. Maybe some other day I will find the place P recommended me when they actually jerk the chicken fresh outside.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimOlRyuXuq4zM5EW4dEhmqg7a0CrGk0J07mHnYwCngHtJ0LB9nqb27cMJJHNXiUNhsA8LQf5_Lcxu7JEgSKc_50PoIwGb0O0IEQRW2Idx_cWdZDBBJx4rl3HQnKc-ZvDQ9HAAYI66JW3s/s1600/CIMG0040+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimOlRyuXuq4zM5EW4dEhmqg7a0CrGk0J07mHnYwCngHtJ0LB9nqb27cMJJHNXiUNhsA8LQf5_Lcxu7JEgSKc_50PoIwGb0O0IEQRW2Idx_cWdZDBBJx4rl3HQnKc-ZvDQ9HAAYI66JW3s/s320/CIMG0040+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>This time I had the simmered goat which honestly turned out to be a disappointment. While really tender, the meat was spare with many chunks of bones and not really distinctive flavour-wise so I would honestly put it in the category of mystery meat again. Katja opted for the jerk lamb and while finding it delicious, she said that it was nothing she could eat everyday, what is okay with me. As I suggested the place I was worried that she would not like it at all. Frankly, last time I ate there I was not even sure if they actually served plantain or just bananas and they first bill the waitress gave us was only handwritten so I asked whether I could get an actual one (I get a certain amount of subsistence at my internship when handing over receipts) and the price on there was lower than the first one - although service was included as well. Pretty shady if you would ask me and I think that it is about time to find a different place for Caribbean cuisine. Nevermind.<br />
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We went on to see the new Resident Evil in a cinema close to picadilly circus that turned out to be the shittiest cinema I have ever been in, While looking rather fancy from the outside, the actual theatre had not even stairs but only a slight lowering of the floor so you pretty much had a nice view of other peoples back of the head. It might sound weird, but I like the fact that I saw a film in London - which was actually the first one I saw in 3D - and the cinema turned out to be the way it was.<br />
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After a short side trip to Chinatown afterwards (where I bought unsweetened bottled green tea - very refreshing) we called it a night.<br />
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The following week was not too eventful. I went to a pub three times with some colleagues which may be a bit too often but worth it. :) I don't know why but I don't feel like writing too much about work- or colleague-related topics on here.<br />
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If I find the time, tomorrow I will write about my spontaneous but AWESOME walk through Central London I took today, finally being up to date again!TPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05859356900889164252noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2255066661749398790.post-6666930707516403162010-09-25T12:24:00.003+01:002010-09-25T13:03:33.070+01:00Day 13-15 Germans - so annoying. (13.09.10 - 15.09.10 and thoughts blended in that are not bound to any date)Where should I begin. I am already sitting here for about 15 minutes not knowing how to start. What a waste of precious time I actually get to rest.<br />
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While there is always some kind of input everyday - let it only be these little impressions you get while being on the tube -I often just get home from work, have a little chat with my host for maybe 10 or 15 minutes or so, do this and that, skype home and fall asleep while watching an episode of The Sopranos. Friday is Pub day with the colleagues, and sometimes I actually manage to eat dinner. I posted a picture of every dinner I've had so far except the two times I ate fish and chips, but that's really not worth posting and I'll try to avoid that in the future as it is soggy, rather greasy and not really tasty (it's at least that way where get here). But I still need time and energy to find a good place for a take away in this area and as you get that right at he station here it's a save choice when close to starvation. So you can actually see how little I usually eat here so far (just saying, not complaining). I would LOVE to cook, but then again I find it rather difficult for one person alone and the kitchen is not too inviting. I could use it if I wanted to, but... no. And I could get TONS of microwaveable stuff, what I actually try to avoid as well. And the energy again. Can a person be too exhausted for cooking? Yes. Definitely.<br />
My diet mainly consists of one slice of toast in the morning (which I slowly can't stand anymore - every bloody day the same sh*t. White bread, peanut butter, orange and strawberry jam as well as chocolate-hazelnut spread.), a pack of sandwiches for lunch along with a portion of fruits - mostly fruit salads (no sugar added) or grapes - some crisps and/or some kind of little sweet treat. Mostly something different everyday so I get to try new things. I theoretically COULD store something in the kitchen but the cupboards are filled with Bisto (instant sauce/spice you can get here for a variety of dishes), canned food and old shit. I COULD use the fridge but then again it's stuffed and filthy. Again, I am not complaining as I already came to terms with that, just saying how it is. I am a (paying) guest in this house, renting a room and being allowed to use the bathroom (where she is leaving her pink plastic shavers including hair everywhere). The rest is extra. If I start cleaning (really noticable - I do clean little parts every day) she'll think that I think she is messy. What she is. But I am going to stay here for 2 1/2 months still and we get along pretty good so far. But don't let me do her wrong. She DOES hoover regularly and there sometimes seems to be some chlorinated cleaner in the toilet. But still.<br />
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And why AM I taking and posting pictures of food? Who cares? I do.<br />
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Beside of the practical aspect of posting food - it actually encourages me to try eating something else each time - there is so much more about. I won't sit down now and copiously ponder about what food means to me - which would be interesting another time actually (oh I miss cooking...) - I'll just put it like this for now: Do you remember that one time in summer when you were a child you ate at you grandparents'? See.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX_uF_trfv1TUeTbAemi0-5ccvEx8TFIVqM7oH2uniYGfskl1sdi2ePtX90yush7KUDKi1zcVNZcqidv0cjQX9_bNRozyqwmZXXWMhLi40zNN4cLCUbC1kVLgzOjNWfYxvf3SReleudzk/s1600/CIMG0015+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX_uF_trfv1TUeTbAemi0-5ccvEx8TFIVqM7oH2uniYGfskl1sdi2ePtX90yush7KUDKi1zcVNZcqidv0cjQX9_bNRozyqwmZXXWMhLi40zNN4cLCUbC1kVLgzOjNWfYxvf3SReleudzk/s320/CIMG0015+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I had venus clams once in my life when I was ten in a restaurant in Italy and I still remember how they tasted, who was with me, how the location was and how it made me feel.<br />
We link scents, textures and tastes (basically everything we prerceive with our senses) with memories and vice versa (nothing new, I know) so I hopefully will remember eating that delicious bowl of hoisin duck soup (lots of ginger again - yum) along wish frozen yoghurt and strawberries as dessert at itsu I had last Thursday (16.09) , the vegan falafel wrap I had at Portobello Market on Saturday (18.09) and the simmered goat I had on Sunday (19.09) when I was with Katja in Brixton again. (All this will be included in the next post.)<br />
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Now I still don't seem to have written a lot about the actual week. Well. I'll come to it.<br />
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Wednesday 15th was the complete waste of time I expected it to be. Actually - it was worse.<br />
A few days prior I got that mail from the internship agency inviting me to a meeting with other German interns in London together with the "Germanic Society of London" or some bullshit along those lines. At first, I did not want to go at all (I'm not here for meeting even more Germans...) but then I thought I could just give it a try as there was nothing I could have lost and maybe there would have been some nice people after all I could do something with at the weekends as I don't know too many people yet yada-yada-yada. Waste of time.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpRp4BexEiVpBp2CleLMdFRjZEemOrX-T2jIYHTzqwiwx4Bv3VVyfFXP9l9HGFGUmSLJ54QFffRzcVx_7SY6z3la5xqu67UxdBgECs2p1trgc0x7idq42MrFjbQtEhq1AaOQ_2VYmP78/s320/CIMG0007+%28Medium%29.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">South Kensington - posh.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpRp4BexEiVpBp2CleLMdFRjZEemOrX-T2jIYHTzqwiwx4Bv3VVyfFXP9l9HGFGUmSLJ54QFffRzcVx_7SY6z3la5xqu67UxdBgECs2p1trgc0x7idq42MrFjbQtEhq1AaOQ_2VYmP78/s1600/CIMG0007+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>When I saw the the bar we were supposed to meet at was located in South Kenstington I just thought "Hmmm, rather posh. But they know we are interns - we cannot afford that much.". Uh-huh. Small water: 3 Pound. Gin-Tonic: 7.30 Pounds. I even missed the place at first as that tiny little logo thay have is perfectly covered by the marquise as you get close enough to actually read it. It was dark, small and smelled like dirty dishwasher everytime they opened the door as they put us down the stairs right next to the kitchen ( their "meeting room" - according to them). When I arrived, I sceptically looked at a tall blonde girl waving at me with some kind of paper having a logo on it or something like that from the "basement". Down there were the agency's boss giving a shit about any intern, talking with members of that society who equally gave a shit, their interns and a guy having an internship in the same building. After the obligatory who I am, how my internship is, where I stay and so on, two other interns came along. Both blonde, one starting, the other finishing her internship (same company I think it was - something with fashion events). One from Austria, the other from Bavaria. Pu-LEEZ-ah. <br />
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I immediately shut myself down. All of them were giggly, moaning <i>self-obsessed <b>Wendys</b></i>. It's actually rather difficult to explain what a Wendy is. Wendy is actually a German, horse-centred girl's magazine/comic with its main protagonist - Wendy, duh - epitomising that "<i>Heile Welt</i>" (ideal world) "Ponyhof" (pony stables) persona. (take a look: http://www.wendy.kessybabe.de/wendyframe.html ).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY17JE7jK4WlG4ATHfeYyjC7x_cB55rqM4qu2v9EcBsTP2MWikbDhk-vxbKIFp0Dax41eGwNkgEeTGiwoG9kokdY8pDOt8Sxa4zNeTDl4cAxqINumv-SCDlth_PPWeERcT29qbxvqI1m4/s1600/CIMG0008+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY17JE7jK4WlG4ATHfeYyjC7x_cB55rqM4qu2v9EcBsTP2MWikbDhk-vxbKIFp0Dax41eGwNkgEeTGiwoG9kokdY8pDOt8Sxa4zNeTDl4cAxqINumv-SCDlth_PPWeERcT29qbxvqI1m4/s320/CIMG0008+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="320" /></a>All they did was whining about how hot and crowded it is in the tube, how many people there are in London (uh-huh, you don't say...), how slutty girls dress when they go out and that they don't bother dressing up anymore as there 'is always someone dressed worse around'. "Deutsches Kälteempfinden" bla bla. They all agreed that they could not live here. Who would have seen THAT one coming... <br />
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I could. And that is pretty much all I need to say about it.<br />
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I my me mine all night. Superficial, dumb, obnoxious Wendys, hysterically laughing when realising that they all agree to everything they say. If they can't handle being here, maybe they should have settled on Dartford instead.<br />
That guy was talking with an englishman who happened to work at the agency about German beer the whole time- not one of my favourite topics either.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlrX3vrP22qgS76HKdhN61SCH6Vg5N3032Rq4qktlE38ESIV7WT1NVajObjhEG2Z67kdYkfGMV1uQJ9dlQ0smNefgfun2T2WxGlkk_c8ajG7Pj8Vhkh5cdVXqRUGQ0JG6Ga7wAnONHd98/s1600/CIMG0002+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlrX3vrP22qgS76HKdhN61SCH6Vg5N3032Rq4qktlE38ESIV7WT1NVajObjhEG2Z67kdYkfGMV1uQJ9dlQ0smNefgfun2T2WxGlkk_c8ajG7Pj8Vhkh5cdVXqRUGQ0JG6Ga7wAnONHd98/s320/CIMG0002+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I politely finished my drink and left together with too other girls from the Cologne area that turned up after a while and seemed to enjoy themselves as little as I did.<br />
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Maybe a revised version of this entry may come, who knows. I may manage to finally catch up. Who knows.TPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05859356900889164252noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2255066661749398790.post-2289115525955100672010-09-14T22:25:00.002+01:002010-09-20T21:08:01.764+01:00Day 12: Camden Market revisited and the nightly Thames on Fi-AH!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFmaDSFmELY10ZQKtJ6eoDCbfRVIaYeq8M8M0gXmtfmT7aEP90r4W1pO-yPbPQQ7qZdokf9Kwqb3yoSv7fMGlY9dPBtodfX11uDOj_ujlau-4tZroDBe6SMhEyFIxxE7B2X06s-DxXaDM/s1600/CIMG0490+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFmaDSFmELY10ZQKtJ6eoDCbfRVIaYeq8M8M0gXmtfmT7aEP90r4W1pO-yPbPQQ7qZdokf9Kwqb3yoSv7fMGlY9dPBtodfX11uDOj_ujlau-4tZroDBe6SMhEyFIxxE7B2X06s-DxXaDM/s320/CIMG0490+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div>Ok, so here I write again, almost one week delayed... what can I say - being busy all day and exhausted at night. That's about it. I want to have this blog and I like posting on it, but I really need to work on my time management probably. The moment it turns into a burden I should rather stop, go on hiatus or shorten the posts. But I don't want any of this to happen, actually.<br />
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Last Sunday was amazing. It started rather slow with me waiting for Katja and Sarah in Camden as there had been issues with their train, but that gave me the chance to circle the area around the market. I actually thought that I am going to be late as I missed the bus and were caught up in a traffic jam later, so I texted apologetic messages without realising that there is no chance of getting a signal on the tube, but nevermind. It was better this way. I prefer waiting for someone than having someone waiting for me - so I can at least pretend that I am pissed in the end. ;)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2VD9ENqAkEu1YOIfsV5coM94hreNOk75_M1xxIA0YQqZV-t0Woy3ObwmuUCzkSDt2XQV-c9lTTGHAXjGAz0jLw6TrG0xcWPUSYaH7lGnScJo5IZf5W-cq7lcoHd7z0Is1dWruypFhQ88/s1600/CIMG0496+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2VD9ENqAkEu1YOIfsV5coM94hreNOk75_M1xxIA0YQqZV-t0Woy3ObwmuUCzkSDt2XQV-c9lTTGHAXjGAz0jLw6TrG0xcWPUSYaH7lGnScJo5IZf5W-cq7lcoHd7z0Is1dWruypFhQ88/s320/CIMG0496+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div>What I did not know before is that Camden really is a real nice place to live, I would say and rather on the posh side even. Just one street above the market and you would not imagine it's there: nice, clean and quiet area, terraced houses (which is mostly the only kind you'll see - as far as I can judge so far as I have not been to too many areas north of the Thames except the central ones) with lovely front gardens.<br />
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And then again, right beneath the market - shabbiness. Not so pretty. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV7xbUJ2sebwptBqKk8JKi9RvWiB1tK86ff_bQKA8wbE0C9w5aLzhYW6qKkvx4mLyTKfwSi1eKqdO6oOJQ1Or2hoIU3axfK38Gw15xaiGS9yN93-ubI5jGds3EIK7rfvs2jDYy52dXp-c/s1600/CIMG0512+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV7xbUJ2sebwptBqKk8JKi9RvWiB1tK86ff_bQKA8wbE0C9w5aLzhYW6qKkvx4mLyTKfwSi1eKqdO6oOJQ1Or2hoIU3axfK38Gw15xaiGS9yN93-ubI5jGds3EIK7rfvs2jDYy52dXp-c/s320/CIMG0512+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div>When Katja and Sarah finally arrived, it naturally was time to enter the fray again. Walking around the market, shopping (them, not me) and eating some chinese/japanese/whatever mix it all 4 GBP a dish.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-u2lYyTcRMIvpiEWRxOY7JtM4p6vvWBihUXma4jg_iEZ0A0kMFJqCE_BKrrreHJYRGIwXokVN5arGfM8iKEUEBKZDfeKea3Mxeo4wToe45o8KbJDoRUzHrbSAQlhM9N8iTfktSaXcv8c/s1600/CIMG0504+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-u2lYyTcRMIvpiEWRxOY7JtM4p6vvWBihUXma4jg_iEZ0A0kMFJqCE_BKrrreHJYRGIwXokVN5arGfM8iKEUEBKZDfeKea3Mxeo4wToe45o8KbJDoRUzHrbSAQlhM9N8iTfktSaXcv8c/s320/CIMG0504+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div>After Camden, we had to say goodbye to Sarah und went to the oh so awaited carnival. Westminster it was - so I thought. So we went there first (Katja claiming right from the beginning that it must be Waterloo Station), saw nothing but the usual crowd, and decided to take the bus to Waterloo afterall. So far so good. Alas, the bus did not head to Waterloo, but these are the things you only notice when you are driving for a while already. When it then finally dawned on us - off we went, straight to Elephant & Castle and right to Waterloo via Tube, then.<br />
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Waterloo Station is rather big - an actual train station with the tube underneath. When we finally reached the Thames we knew we were at the right place: Little stalls selling food, clothes and <i>schnick schnack</i>, and trees beautifully illuminated with blue and white lights. We were just on time for watching the ending of a performance involving dancing and water(ing), but the highlight really was the parade.<br />
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It was pretty much a coincidence that we saw where<br />
it started: We were just walking, wondering what else there might be, saw some weird artistic thingy and whoop, music and people in costumes. Unfortunately, others new what was about to happen, so we could not really see alot (some of the picures were taken with my hand held as far up as I could). While continually walking further, we happened to see the same part of the parade over and over, outrunning it again and again, until we finally found a somewhat enjoyable spot. The rather oldish guy right next to us was not as enjoyable as he tried to push us away so he could film the whole thing with something that looked like a mobile installed on something that seemed to be a bar with a kind of light - never seen it before; probably some failed electronic gimmick he still clings on. Nevermind. Persistent, and a little featherbrained he kept waving at the participants trying to motivate them to do likewise, but only achieving to equally weird them out as he did us. I just imagined this poor man's collection of tapes with a whole lot of weirded out people on them... oh my.<br />
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I actually intended to not really show any people on my blog, but I'll make an exception for these, as they must be well aware that their pictures are going to be taken when actively participating in a parade (I'm still trying to refuse showing children, though). I remember one little girl in particular that was part of a group holding up colourfully decorated sticks, waving them rhythmically from side to side who was dancing all the time (contrary to the others). And I only do so probably because Katja saw and mentioned her as well.<br />
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Right when the last drumline had finished, we heard the first skyrockets cracking. With uncanny enthusiasm, a great amount of parade spectators ran - almost hysterically - towards the waterside just like they had never seen fireworks before. Admittedly, it was quite a stunning sight.<br />
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So the evening really ended with a bang when we tried to get to Waterloo Station again before the place was too crowded. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxw9_vyQ_EodsT909Xugcpoz1ynjK6BBMjfNdtXyPVgHkLFLuz79-rCLnLM86z7-Ux1Xyq5VK9MfDBIXg9MYwq5mMqmq-Z1uO6eDWuJqCp4zd4z5jAzTEPeW_MsmTZvPvGv2tSTWr2ac8/s1600/CIMG0612+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxw9_vyQ_EodsT909Xugcpoz1ynjK6BBMjfNdtXyPVgHkLFLuz79-rCLnLM86z7-Ux1Xyq5VK9MfDBIXg9MYwq5mMqmq-Z1uO6eDWuJqCp4zd4z5jAzTEPeW_MsmTZvPvGv2tSTWr2ac8/s320/CIMG0612+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Wl7eOtX39aAgj9gJDuO8sHp-SoNjwOADm1f9b7clPjaaaiguD2kNNUuX0zlcGLVXMcCOR-J_8rq1-aytsTK1qcnGJCeLMj7daZ8Llu8Qndv5J_Ed-dwmUSCzjJ2jaAM5IdFRpnD3zGE/s1600/CIMG0616+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Wl7eOtX39aAgj9gJDuO8sHp-SoNjwOADm1f9b7clPjaaaiguD2kNNUuX0zlcGLVXMcCOR-J_8rq1-aytsTK1qcnGJCeLMj7daZ8Llu8Qndv5J_Ed-dwmUSCzjJ2jaAM5IdFRpnD3zGE/s320/CIMG0616+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div>TPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05859356900889164252noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2255066661749398790.post-27683303324447019482010-09-13T22:59:00.000+01:002010-09-13T22:59:54.488+01:00Day 11: No festival, but a mochi instead?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguFq2CBtDzD7bQ-leyf3sFSQQOfrpdBRWEw8R6cScGwWX5-ZWFbOUrNtsQpCHQL3y73Fp8WdNvCKQx6XKLWr4ErnNeZuTjNqER5AeBu3wizkKEj8yl-sKn8NtA1gpflZqkOkWRQQnB29w/s1600/CIMG0428+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguFq2CBtDzD7bQ-leyf3sFSQQOfrpdBRWEw8R6cScGwWX5-ZWFbOUrNtsQpCHQL3y73Fp8WdNvCKQx6XKLWr4ErnNeZuTjNqER5AeBu3wizkKEj8yl-sKn8NtA1gpflZqkOkWRQQnB29w/s320/CIMG0428+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div>Sooo alright, I kinda got the dates wrong and the night carnival I was opting for turned out to be Sunday...nevermind. I took a nice, longer evening walk from Westminster to Leicester Square instead. Passing churches (have to check how all these buildings/churches are called in Westminster again....), Trafalgar Square and parts of Soho (esp. some part of Chinatown).<br />
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Oh btw, reading through my blog again, I notice all these stupid spelling and grammar mistakes I tend to produce at times but still I decided to leave everything the way it is for now (until I cannot stand looking at them anymore anyway...). I wish I'd have more time for blogging on the one hand, but that on the other hand equals less time for actually DOING anything in the end, so sometimes I hastily write some bits down (still as detailled as possible at that certain moment; so by revisiting my blog later the memories turn out to be more vivid - that's the intention, at least), making the most stupid mistakes or keeping certain parts of an unfinished sentence that turned out differently, in the end. That's also why my posts happen to be rather lenghty - maybe too long for some people to follow - but in the end, all this is solely the result of my own egoism. ;) But still, if anybody else is interested in the things happening around me and <i>My Two Cents</i>, even better, and all my love belongs to you. ;) Oh, and not to forget the times I'm waaay too exhausted even to think properly, but still try to write something down so I'm not tooo far behind. But this state of mind changes rapidly when one of my <i>bestest</i> eight-legged friends decides to drop by again - but then I can say farewell to everything rational...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYEaTU8FLkfG-LltfVHCyti2OxvyA_pYl0XA6YjQCHB3rCf8wwRd4bD4SOEJaVPAKJWhvdNhmw4JppXaE1Kb8b4gxPecgQHvJ4WMW7IRnR36mII-XXKvxx6GD76q3WWbGeK4d5gJzO7-M/s1600/CIMG0447+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYEaTU8FLkfG-LltfVHCyti2OxvyA_pYl0XA6YjQCHB3rCf8wwRd4bD4SOEJaVPAKJWhvdNhmw4JppXaE1Kb8b4gxPecgQHvJ4WMW7IRnR36mII-XXKvxx6GD76q3WWbGeK4d5gJzO7-M/s320/CIMG0447+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div>Anyway, I cannot remember having ever been at Trafalgar Square before, but I felt that it can't keep up with its own reputation. I mean, it was nice, rather pretty and crowded, but not too stunning. Sure, you go there so you can cross it off your list of things to see in LDN, but that's about it. There are way more striking places (the national gallery is supposed to be impressive, though, but did not have the time so far).<br />
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The Westend in London equals the New Yorkan Broadway, so to say, so there are theatres after theatres, and I will definitely see one or two (or three or...) shows eventually, but not today. Reeeaaaallly hungry, I ended up in Chinatown. I honestly intended to actually eat dinner at a restaurant, but then, seeing all these groups or couples, it seemed too pathetic to actually go somewhere all alone at night. It's different at lunchtime or in the <i>early </i>evening, but past eight - the impression would have been too sad.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimz-HeoPzvwSgOpfJrO-p1bzz5WXzRhNqVGT4LRMgddx79XEhrvGKioSFfyHhQkT8WjTKgc5s5yFC7z3aIqc9SusQJdxcfEvNvRfSbKXLUn9ook1gVJF_tAi3V8GjJOIH496CGI8gdQLg/s1600/CIMG0463b+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimz-HeoPzvwSgOpfJrO-p1bzz5WXzRhNqVGT4LRMgddx79XEhrvGKioSFfyHhQkT8WjTKgc5s5yFC7z3aIqc9SusQJdxcfEvNvRfSbKXLUn9ook1gVJF_tAi3V8GjJOIH496CGI8gdQLg/s320/CIMG0463b+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5WV7P_K3NL2reZ574afC73ypEmhtIrzNstbCuvzGeTjODKVpJfOvGBLz9bt8DPKBnkiyw319vqvDWPxpjUORUeKWqLtOizf8uhQf1XqtbzGx5az29dNgGYPZUK154_2xl9J9ehhafgiw/s1600/CIMG0471c+%28Medium%29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5WV7P_K3NL2reZ574afC73ypEmhtIrzNstbCuvzGeTjODKVpJfOvGBLz9bt8DPKBnkiyw319vqvDWPxpjUORUeKWqLtOizf8uhQf1XqtbzGx5az29dNgGYPZUK154_2xl9J9ehhafgiw/s320/CIMG0471c+%28Medium%29.jpg" /></a></div><br />
So instead I went for a chinese pork dumpling (they called them bun for some reason) they sold on the street for only a pound twenty, and some yummy yummy mochis as a dessert later at 'home'. Je ne regrette rien. The dumpling was soft, resembling a <i>Germknödel</i> in its consistency - but savoury. The filling was actually mystery meat again, but hearty and delicious (and no sickness of any kind afterwards, so whatever). Unfortunately, right before it was gone, one drop of greasy liquid ended up on my chinos. :( Hope I'll manage to get it out - maybe it's time to visit the laundry service not too far away...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUfgNZ_sbzpvTb8dcL-g_L5Xl74yO9940dJsOhjMoXiWakAIznyfcon9qojeGN-uYSaB-CUivQV0T3luS3Iiyjehyzlh8KByfzpFm2EnmZ-V891KtOTP9UesPXwEONW3LAX-veVUAAYfw/s1600/CIMG0480+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUfgNZ_sbzpvTb8dcL-g_L5Xl74yO9940dJsOhjMoXiWakAIznyfcon9qojeGN-uYSaB-CUivQV0T3luS3Iiyjehyzlh8KByfzpFm2EnmZ-V891KtOTP9UesPXwEONW3LAX-veVUAAYfw/s320/CIMG0480+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div>Back in Streatham, it was mochi time. The big sesame one was filled with sweet read bean paste, and the small ones covered in coconut were filled with peanut paste (I DID NOT eat all of them at once - for the record). I like the gooey texture of the outside, and it's quite filling as well.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0IGmsOvY8YLbTYYTK55o8_PU32OewnWtn0qE-c81S7oj2iz8R9NST-HQxOkfGvIT7exA5Oqb6fij2bOXa051-g6FJIBI_lkn4dDt_YTPRRq8QqDERuYbEqHXmBJsJTjl-bmeQb11bjgg/s1600/CIMG0481+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0IGmsOvY8YLbTYYTK55o8_PU32OewnWtn0qE-c81S7oj2iz8R9NST-HQxOkfGvIT7exA5Oqb6fij2bOXa051-g6FJIBI_lkn4dDt_YTPRRq8QqDERuYbEqHXmBJsJTjl-bmeQb11bjgg/s320/CIMG0481+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div><br />
That was the end of Saturday - I hope that it won't take too long for me to write about my awesome Sunday with Sarah and Katja, revisiting Camden Market and the nightly Carnival at the Thames that ended with a BANG! I did not even really look through all the pictures yet.....<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1HFgEfAcY7yNJWZdRBwv7xF1mYo5NovmhjgmsuDyqnVM7qId_ldUGxWmZeqmqo-DPXtoM6Y-9U-XVGutCD6aG3HwatKXRb6emYFKpfWm6dLlboHQ5b3zpTR2Lt0E9TAAlxT3NyTXjz-Q/s1600/CIMG0482b+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1HFgEfAcY7yNJWZdRBwv7xF1mYo5NovmhjgmsuDyqnVM7qId_ldUGxWmZeqmqo-DPXtoM6Y-9U-XVGutCD6aG3HwatKXRb6emYFKpfWm6dLlboHQ5b3zpTR2Lt0E9TAAlxT3NyTXjz-Q/s320/CIMG0482b+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div>Cheers!TPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05859356900889164252noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2255066661749398790.post-60513087184274760182010-09-11T17:01:00.003+01:002010-10-15T13:17:16.797+01:00Day 06-10: First week of workOk, I really cannot manage to write everyday, especially not as detailled and the way I want to form my phrases, but I'm trying to keep up, and everything interesting (or any thoughts that I feel deserve/need to be shared) will end up here eventually - but delayed at times, I'm afraid.<br />
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Okay, first day at work, time to put on business clothings. Beige slacks, brown leather shoes, bordeaux coloured slip-on with a mallow coloured shirt. And my glasses. I'm just writing that down to emphasise the thought I had given to my outfit - the reason for this will come in a jiffy...<br />
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As there was an horrendous but reasonable strike on the tube (major cuts in employees; replaced by machines), I got up an hour earlier just to make sure that I will make it on time - I really did as my route was not in any way affected at this time. So being an hour early, there was nothing to do for me than sitting down on a bench, nervously waiting while looking at the Thames and the palace of westminster.<br />
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High uncertainty avoidance, sometimes you just notice your own culture. ;)<br />
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So, when it was about time I went to the entry, saw that I had to go to the 9th floor and did so. The elavator is mighty fast, I still feel a bit sick each time I use it, but nevermind.<br />
The door only opens by using a card (similar to some rooms at university), but I just slipped through.<br />
For a moment, dressed up me was just staying there while everybody minded their own business, until a guy in jeans came by and asked whether he could help me.<br />
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<i>New intern, uh hu. X? No, Y. Alright I'll get her.</i><br />
<i>Hi, I'm Y, this is A, B ,C (and so on), back there are some sales people and there some IT and Marketing guys. This will be your computer, sit here while it will be prepared. Meanwhile, you can read this please...</i><br />
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So much for the introduction. So I sat there and leaved through the big folder that was just given to me. Excited, confused and a bit disoriented maybe (where was I again? What was that name again? Who ist that?? so on) I did, withouth really getting what I was reading, something about how to use a program I never saw before (I will never really write in detail what I'm doing at work as I am forbidden by contract to do so). After a while I was handed over another pile of stapled papers - the ones I was actually going to need.<br />
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The dress code. I saw a guy with a hoodie, a girl with some pink bling bling clothes and a lotta washed out t-shirt. So much about that. <br />
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Nevermind, work until now: People don't really speak to me so far. They are not avoiding me either, I say hello every morning and goodbye every evening and so do they. It was not until yesterday that anybody actually asked me what I was studying. Don't get me wrong, it seems to be a really nice, chatty, funny group - I'm just not really part of it. Well, I'm not expecting to be after one week - of course not - I'm just trying to write matter-of-factly how the situation is so far. There are the occasional two sentence conversations that lead to nowhere. One factor I completely underestimated and that still frustrates me endlessly is that I really have problems understanding the british accent(s)! How can I integrate myself into any conversation when I only understand half of it? It really isn't the language, it's the pronounciation.<br />
I can understand my host fairly well, television even better (btw. I saw 5 minutes of EastEnders - the British <i>Lindenstraße</i> so to say - and it was the most ridiculous over top acting I ever saw. Some pub, Queen Victoria the name I think, burned down with explosions, flames and hyterical shrieking). <br />
I haven't had problems understanding Americans for years now, it is just so different here. They speak fast, <span class="spell" style="color: #cc0000;"></span>colloquial and with I don't know how many accents. They are not all from London, and even here it is almost like one can pick any borough and people there will have a different accent than in another one. It's all part of the process, I will learn and in only a view weeks, problem gone. Actually, I've improved already. Right when everybody left work yesterday, I was told that they go to a pub every Friday together (not everybody every Friday of course, but always somebody), so I went along spontaneously. Good Idea. Some people I knew, some people I saw, some people I never did before. For the first time I was asked what I was actually studying and there was more talking than during the whole week. Less than I wished from my side (hearing comprehension still in process, but increasing) but the night was fun and a step into the right direction. I was told I look like Jack Black haha, is that so? I kinda could not take that as a compliment (about 4 years ago, some girl said the same...hm :< ) Oh, I actually did not have to pay for my drinks the whole night (a guiness and two gin-tonics and I was embaressingly tipsy as the last time I had eaten was 10 in the morning and it was only a granola bar from pret.) as "she earns a lot more than me, darling", so my co-worker in her mid fourties - a really nice, cordial person. I appreciate the gesture, but I will make it up to her next week, I don't like to be kept.<br />
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Off-work:<br />
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Tuesday was HARD. As I said, I did not have any trouble getting to work on Monday, so I was so stupid to not really check how it is going to be the next day. Northern Line's running. Great I thought. Too bad that half of the stations were closed (which they only told you right before you reached them...), including mine. Alright, plan B. Wait until whatever-station-it-was, jump on the District Line to Westminster and walk - that is not too far away. You see the place from work. No biggie. Well it did not turn out. End of story, I had to walk all the way from Waterloo Station to Vauxhall which is not TOO long - only when it's early and you need to get to work on FRICKIN TIME ON YOUR SECOND DAY! I am actually proud of me that I was only 10 minutes late, if I had chosen the bus, I'd been there later. Trafficjam deluxe as everybody was freaking out due to the strike. I got home by overground. Works just as well, but I still don't like it for some reason.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-RK-vgh-f1pkcjsD4oumNioIudmKdhl1AWTaKFzt5Llblbo3XYseYIq5E42EwZmyWmkX5wx0-TxtiLQyo6avCUetj567MUW9YDujtuWPOMDA6Oc0QutDej4rqYIAXx-HtO3-11ul3Lso/s1600/CIMG0380+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-RK-vgh-f1pkcjsD4oumNioIudmKdhl1AWTaKFzt5Llblbo3XYseYIq5E42EwZmyWmkX5wx0-TxtiLQyo6avCUetj567MUW9YDujtuWPOMDA6Oc0QutDej4rqYIAXx-HtO3-11ul3Lso/s320/CIMG0380+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div>Wednesday after work I finally met Katja! As I wasn't sure the strike would not affect Wednesday as well, we met at Westminster Station - right before Big Ben (I know it's the bell, but still sounds good). She lives in London for one and a half months now and still never got off the station there!!! So it was a good place to meet.<br />
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There was a little rainshower right before, but as the sun was shining again, we saw this: <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAEUeatIbtFisYPfhjaYu6xXLL51fjh5naZE1ec_ssVg_oBPFnB8rUnhBYkZQ1HyAmuJb9sg4RYRKQS83zXTQ8xCWfuHM-X0aqtvcq7dIUxUh1fVZNqyk-ARAM-MkMGM85b110uElucw8/s1600/CIMG0377b+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAEUeatIbtFisYPfhjaYu6xXLL51fjh5naZE1ec_ssVg_oBPFnB8rUnhBYkZQ1HyAmuJb9sg4RYRKQS83zXTQ8xCWfuHM-X0aqtvcq7dIUxUh1fVZNqyk-ARAM-MkMGM85b110uElucw8/s400/CIMG0377b+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Double Rainbow! What does it mean? (get it)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
After aimlessly (really) walking around for a while, looking for a place to get something to drink, we decided to go to Oxfort Circus (I had not been there so far this time in London). I had the longest run ever to get to the proper train on the tube ever ever! It can be a real maze down there.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjb04XFFnS35prtlxU2J1BSOBTdng5UYK0Qpe4OT_0QY-Wl4MCjjcyQP-relJnBRn5sCofn5cTJqnjivpDzdXgvoDPgicHa3JdfwHo-qlZcwzkOa_NyQsZGCf0LuBzkaVFq1t4jMwjnPM/s1600/CIMG0389+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjb04XFFnS35prtlxU2J1BSOBTdng5UYK0Qpe4OT_0QY-Wl4MCjjcyQP-relJnBRn5sCofn5cTJqnjivpDzdXgvoDPgicHa3JdfwHo-qlZcwzkOa_NyQsZGCf0LuBzkaVFq1t4jMwjnPM/s320/CIMG0389+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div>Having arrived there, we went to one of those Bella Italias you can find from time to time (seems like half of the restaurants belong to some kind of franchise in LDN), with an unfriendly bitchy waitress that refused to bring us food outside while we watched another table having a feast (no tip for you Russian waitress - Katja noticed - with skanky clown make-up). Afterwards we took a stroll again around the area, saw the Liberty right at the Café,<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQTP3H_cNmls0bWPSI811eFvItkcZXHM0jpeMZm2sJJxCIxSL9jAEX8ssDOjR3BIBMajrYXSuRGifh3jcWO2HEO4yyU3j_OAYC1_c3wgcla2ktpf8njvlODOnhC8gR7XM-IfFhJYfjWd0/s1600/CIMG0391+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQTP3H_cNmls0bWPSI811eFvItkcZXHM0jpeMZm2sJJxCIxSL9jAEX8ssDOjR3BIBMajrYXSuRGifh3jcWO2HEO4yyU3j_OAYC1_c3wgcla2ktpf8njvlODOnhC8gR7XM-IfFhJYfjWd0/s320/CIMG0391+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div>a guy playing the keyboard while a blonde girl performed oral sex on a saxophone (it MUST have been her intention, I can't think anything else the way it looked), got some free fans at a Mango, and - the best of all of those - girls with a wig dancing to Don't Stop Believing at another clothing store.<br />
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<b>I will try to upload the videos this night or tomorrow.</b><br />
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That was Wednesday. Thursday I had my first <i>real</i> panic attack ever in my life, but first the good part:<b></b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhigzZ0GHSNJOJ6iHibcuwRXxfh6BY_-ex0MhVMmC4JDfWMVZKFb4c1tE6mXDd3uNLqOxmmYy90FvezXceZTfUWWYSn8sxepyGXXlDZmO5Bp7MDuqsREyXb_Y1C9RxE6hEDV_2pev8DtRU/s1600/CIMG0393b+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhigzZ0GHSNJOJ6iHibcuwRXxfh6BY_-ex0MhVMmC4JDfWMVZKFb4c1tE6mXDd3uNLqOxmmYy90FvezXceZTfUWWYSn8sxepyGXXlDZmO5Bp7MDuqsREyXb_Y1C9RxE6hEDV_2pev8DtRU/s320/CIMG0393b+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div>After work, I decided to go down to Brixton again and eat some good, warm meal after quite some time (remember the Döner incident, please). First I wanted to go to London town and have something Japanese, but I realised I was actually <b>craving</b> for something <i>jerked</i>. Still a bit careful after the Döner, I played it safe and went to the same restaurant I was with P before exactly one week prior. This time, I had Jerk Lamb with plantain along with some Guiness punch again. So, so GOOD! There was more marinade on the meat than on the chicken before, hence even more flavour. Look at it, it really does not look fancy, maybe even weird for some people because of the dark colour, but it is all about the FLAVAH. Next time I'll have goat maybe, who knows. The staff and friends/family/whatever who came in meanwhile gave me one of these slightly irritated but appreciating looks and one women asked whether the food was good (" daaarlin' "). Maybe because I came alone, maybe because I was the only person there or maybe because I am not Caribbean, who knows. <br />
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Now the horror. I mean, really. "Home", right before I was going to bed, I came up again after brushing my teeth and found this right next to my pillow (only still alive, of course).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg17hE4MegWI1pKeU1y3KJQzr8PqTsKy6I1rUhW5AA3P84C7QOUNY80QStRUXBvI-KyjMaVabM-sReRqzdPVMGqciWGgJr2jo0M1ctw9NXVFQ4YexubpAaqdKYIxLYfFri1ahqViGSbEfE/s1600/CIMG0395+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg17hE4MegWI1pKeU1y3KJQzr8PqTsKy6I1rUhW5AA3P84C7QOUNY80QStRUXBvI-KyjMaVabM-sReRqzdPVMGqciWGgJr2jo0M1ctw9NXVFQ4YexubpAaqdKYIxLYfFri1ahqViGSbEfE/s320/CIMG0395+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div><br />
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See, I'm an arachnophobic, and I don't mean as in I'm <i>disgusted/afraid</i> by spiders (that would not be a phobia), I mean the real deal. I panic. Thank god the adrenalin let me keep my head clear, so I took the first book I could grab (sorry "Annotated Alice") and pressed it so hard on that MOFO until I heard it cracking THREE times. HUGE FUCKER, ON MY BED. NEXT TO MY PILLOW! HUGE FUCKER. What followed was a nightmare of cold sweat, panickiness and paranoia, all while searching through the whole place pinnickly. My reaction had never been that bad. I don't mind small spider (anymore), even the big ones would not startle this much elsewhere, except in the bedroom. I cannot sleep in a room where I know there is any kind of spider, but THIS was way more than I could have handled. LOOK AT IT. That was bad. Really, really bad. But other people can't understand anyway. Cold sweat. whole body.<br />
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I said sorry to my host for all the noises, explaining her the reason and showed her that picture. "She would have shat herself". <i>Soviel dazu</i>. She gave me some spray.<br />
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Yesterday I came back from the pub with some Fish'n'Chips (last time I ate: 10 am, remember), where I was greeted by one of the same kind in the corridor, not that big than the one before but still. I sprayed the shit out of that thing I thought I'd get unconscious. There was another spray there so I used both simultaneiously.<br />
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Later, I did like she told me: sprayed the room, left it for ten minutes and came back. After 30 minutes I saw another one in my room again, only half the size, same kind. While I handled that one way better, falling asleep will still be hard for the next days or weeks. I really checked everywhere the night before, closed all windows and checked everytime I left the room, putting a scarf underneath the door. Still. Another. Bloody. Spider. I don't mind insects at ALL. Just spiders. Two nights to remember. Now it is Saturday and I spent half the day blogging and washing my clothes meanwhile. I'll leave now for the festival at the Thames today and tomorrow. I'll keep you informed. ;)))TPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05859356900889164252noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2255066661749398790.post-64580120512408618452010-09-05T22:39:00.001+01:002010-09-06T23:18:11.181+01:00Day 05: I'm moving on...left!Nothing really happened today. The "Girl Next Door" left and I asked our host whether I could get her room, for it is bigger than mind and, well, cleaner and offers more comfort. What can I say - I live in the "Salon Blue" now! ;)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOfJUMCziKVpa3pur7Buc-vj8VxT9b_q7QqAZiPDaGQdvP4mbn8QMKa5ris2RFLBqZoU2EO2OwhH0B2UPpLhlN4RglHJskAbvUTJgOuqJIsyHkuV2KD_W6T9DwghSxdYbUyP-e-rY2PEg/s1600/CIMG0371+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOfJUMCziKVpa3pur7Buc-vj8VxT9b_q7QqAZiPDaGQdvP4mbn8QMKa5ris2RFLBqZoU2EO2OwhH0B2UPpLhlN4RglHJskAbvUTJgOuqJIsyHkuV2KD_W6T9DwghSxdYbUyP-e-rY2PEg/s320/CIMG0371+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIs_SFo24M7dP5fPzhxuaaS2-ZEK3x56WZ44F2B5kTb3iEmW9kKSmW_sV1wzb-oHvt3LjfhcDUDUQS_YpX4CzfgVU2B45JbYeUgG0Qq5tqg8YNSm3Hb__gWq8AbsDZKcfeyJ9OGp9sAs0/s1600/CIMG0367+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIs_SFo24M7dP5fPzhxuaaS2-ZEK3x56WZ44F2B5kTb3iEmW9kKSmW_sV1wzb-oHvt3LjfhcDUDUQS_YpX4CzfgVU2B45JbYeUgG0Qq5tqg8YNSm3Hb__gWq8AbsDZKcfeyJ9OGp9sAs0/s320/CIMG0367+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a><br />
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I had to do some organising, so I hardly left the house today - except for finding something to eat...<br />
I still don't quite know how people in LDN actually cook or bake properly, supermarkets only seem to hold the most essential groceries - along with a LOTTA JUNKFOOD and "convenience products", which is a pathetic euphemism for commercially prepared food - fucking <i>Fertigprodukte</i>.<br />
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Not that I really had the intention to cook (kinda don't want to use that kitchen... ugh).<br />
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Speaking about supermarkets... actual chains are rather hard to find in this area, but there are quite a few privately ran grocery shops/ kiosk hybrids around here - that offer even less.<br />
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So, were should I get some take away? The chinese mafia seemed to have decided that all of their restaurants need to be claused on sunday, so none of that for me today.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyW9sts0YXw2qcsrM662MpF8CYKSciW_TkVWYhSkD223jSzcAExB4f9PP2CL7lNDPZIlW86xBR6TFmwFnGG_vhUhMeiRFDLgD8lV9gAmCCV6Q3zJ2Vs6adP7gWdw2ki2HHIW68t2xIy64/s1600/CIMG0372+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyW9sts0YXw2qcsrM662MpF8CYKSciW_TkVWYhSkD223jSzcAExB4f9PP2CL7lNDPZIlW86xBR6TFmwFnGG_vhUhMeiRFDLgD8lV9gAmCCV6Q3zJ2Vs6adP7gWdw2ki2HHIW68t2xIy64/s320/CIMG0372+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div>How to tell which restaurant is good? By the amount of people eating there. But what if there really aren't a lot of people in any of them? hmm I settled on the Kebap Restaurant that had a chubby, smoking, chavy kind of lady sitting outside and two people sitting on the inside. One turned out to be the cook - 'nuf said.<br />
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Curious-me settled on a "Doner Kebap". Not too good Idea. It is - well, different than their originals.<br />
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This is what happens when you take Turkish kind of food invented in Germany abroad: Some thing with dry bread and stripes of mystery meat and some chili sauce. Meat tasted really weird (dry as well, highly minced, no real pieces. Vegetables were okay, sauce hot. Only ate 1/3.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJgi7FW0Airw78ebjl5gmZqH0C-UMdcZ11X68T84rUpqsM95RMKTTD8D47hIf8UFKEE_Vsnnt2wvOTRkn91HErnW7VAPxvqyU9K8gfQAiP4MSMWD_eT_BEMLx1-vPW9Jh9PDhpTqdh7lc/s1600/Unbenannt+-+4+%28Medium%29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJgi7FW0Airw78ebjl5gmZqH0C-UMdcZ11X68T84rUpqsM95RMKTTD8D47hIf8UFKEE_Vsnnt2wvOTRkn91HErnW7VAPxvqyU9K8gfQAiP4MSMWD_eT_BEMLx1-vPW9Jh9PDhpTqdh7lc/s320/Unbenannt+-+4+%28Medium%29.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpabcufw6omPQpn0xavFsgkwrLak1kZQKe_wNAmT9-NBWobumYCdzwdu7fqHvYEnz7rrIYsETs57b3sJ-jXU8ZEKEvFnG_2RUfVS6CazjEMTc-IXmlMGyuEUgxPyZ0YUPFRb-xFkYdil4/s1600/Unbenannt+-+3+%28Medium%29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpabcufw6omPQpn0xavFsgkwrLak1kZQKe_wNAmT9-NBWobumYCdzwdu7fqHvYEnz7rrIYsETs57b3sJ-jXU8ZEKEvFnG_2RUfVS6CazjEMTc-IXmlMGyuEUgxPyZ0YUPFRb-xFkYdil4/s320/Unbenannt+-+3+%28Medium%29.jpg" /></a></div>I'm actually a bit afraid of tomorrow, my first day of my internship. How are the people going to be? Will I be dressed right? Well I get everything? Can I handle the duties? Will the strike on the tube affect me? I will see.TPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05859356900889164252noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2255066661749398790.post-18937007997576182822010-09-04T22:37:00.000+01:002010-09-06T22:37:40.125+01:00Day 04: Hippie, Vintage, Rock'nRoll - Camden TownToday was GROOVY. It smelled like piss, patchouli, good old hand-crafted rock music and freedom. :)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnTEhbz3B3AYslQ8AhWqh9FHY62DPF77qchLMdEtdmjwvmq4bU6G2at-oTH7vHk5tpQqTbZDpz5SknuRH99JrXuNoumSMadwFGvH3QNei1azkNRi1fHt67DxTJrg8ZtBeIJ-WIr_-shoY/s1600/Unbenannt+-+2+%28Medium%29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnTEhbz3B3AYslQ8AhWqh9FHY62DPF77qchLMdEtdmjwvmq4bU6G2at-oTH7vHk5tpQqTbZDpz5SknuRH99JrXuNoumSMadwFGvH3QNei1azkNRi1fHt67DxTJrg8ZtBeIJ-WIr_-shoY/s320/Unbenannt+-+2+%28Medium%29.jpg" /></a></div>I asked the girl from the room next door whether she wants to join me going to Camden Town and she did. She is going to study photography in the Czech Republic and was here for a three week language course, departing tomorrow. Strangely, she has not been to Camden before so it probably was just as much fun for her than it was for me. First thing we did was actually go into some place and eat. Even before we arrived at the market, we found a Wagamama and decided to eat there which I regretted a bit later. I mean, the food was fresh and tasty, but when I saw how many different, good smelling meals they offered at Camden Market from all over the world with really cheap prices, I'd probably have eaten there. Nevermind, I had some grilled udon noodles with chicken and ginger (pickled; pink, slightly salty and sour), along with gyoza as a side dish, and she a kind of curry, I assume. <br />
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Then there was Camden...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg7ijyY113sNydTTkOvjA73DCHj_1AJKVe06kp6G-7qBcvEZVZku-Rv2SpcXiL9_MwEafU5j4ID32VMATFkJA1YYXaR4F-LY5bHnKOPlR3oNui43AW9mPkAlUA1oAvumdf4cpRWY4izRw/s1600/CIMG0314+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg7ijyY113sNydTTkOvjA73DCHj_1AJKVe06kp6G-7qBcvEZVZku-Rv2SpcXiL9_MwEafU5j4ID32VMATFkJA1YYXaR4F-LY5bHnKOPlR3oNui43AW9mPkAlUA1oAvumdf4cpRWY4izRw/s320/CIMG0314+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div>Camden Market is for itself, a little microcosmos of alternative cultures all mixed together deriving from different ethnic backgrounds, ideologies and (last but not least) music, while the main untertone remains that lingering aura of vintage-hipster-rock'n'roll fashion and ideal. It is a place where you can really imagine people losing track of the outer world if they stay there for too long.<br />
Wonder would it be awful or awesome, if I made my living there. hmmm.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDxKBgg52S4tuM0c387oEuKT45bJx5eSryzelSNhh6dKNxQGPjvusOlpDKc0500Bwpa2QRVeFmDGHLR7N_wbsgYYqLsE-GzEXRqjjbMjO3BiK5vbLKQVk0sfIA_tsQJtJapodvSo57ndQ/s1600/Unbenannt+-+1+%28Medium%29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDxKBgg52S4tuM0c387oEuKT45bJx5eSryzelSNhh6dKNxQGPjvusOlpDKc0500Bwpa2QRVeFmDGHLR7N_wbsgYYqLsE-GzEXRqjjbMjO3BiK5vbLKQVk0sfIA_tsQJtJapodvSo57ndQ/s320/Unbenannt+-+1+%28Medium%29.jpg" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPT_Mv-ruljuSrT_-xILmk3Ki_JzB0WElk2glwHs2Az6fXo7lUo4CFsyp-jt1ESCVApJcn-U-VUXxnlnCUAzPwj5gq5hJUorNoXsOS7jPdY_qKGojQq50dvbOGytGf6do3VRklVmC_5fY/s1600/CIMG0331+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPT_Mv-ruljuSrT_-xILmk3Ki_JzB0WElk2glwHs2Az6fXo7lUo4CFsyp-jt1ESCVApJcn-U-VUXxnlnCUAzPwj5gq5hJUorNoXsOS7jPdY_qKGojQq50dvbOGytGf6do3VRklVmC_5fY/s320/CIMG0331+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a>The external market is great already, but it gets really psychedelic once you get into the Horse Tunnel Market. People there REALLY live the image the shops are coming with, so it seems. You meet the strangest, most egocentric creatures, remains from the sixties and seventies mindwise. luv it luv it luv it. It really is the <i>Groovy Kind of Love</i>. After walking around the outside area for a little time again (we had some lemonade, meanwhile that might or might not have been fresh - or as old as the stand we purchased it in...), we saw street performers play music und two men doing capoeira <i>alongwards</i>, just before we went of, <span id="goog_1147006623"></span><span id="goog_1147006624"></span>searching for a pub, but rather ended up taking a lenghthy but nice walk around the upper parts of the London Bridge area, were a nice, but slightly importunate lady - originally from Switzerland but living in London for 50 years - told us a bit about that wharf area, being originally the setting of Dicken's Oliver Twist - now containing flats that cost "an arm and a leg" to live in. <br />
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And that is what is actually bugging me a little: the failing in finding a spark of <i>Old London</i>; it's there, but as far as I have seen "modernly enhanced". :( <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIbytKFyJyocWqmyiUyGUYMgCz7ykoOmLNZMJzY89FuaEQnSUApIhAtOnEr1UVqbjOijGbcXbAYuqNj6mAeABmD6zqO0Sn3t0ClU7Jb9LkW87bzq94KahZiV3UcE1rFJUYMR5byU_mFNY/s1600/CIMG0340+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIbytKFyJyocWqmyiUyGUYMgCz7ykoOmLNZMJzY89FuaEQnSUApIhAtOnEr1UVqbjOijGbcXbAYuqNj6mAeABmD6zqO0Sn3t0ClU7Jb9LkW87bzq94KahZiV3UcE1rFJUYMR5byU_mFNY/s320/CIMG0340+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4np1v8uk3sexrwmUm95VkdmMkvDqrDzNTEfRnakrBMEyM7RqDtgMXOm71f0mV5Vxzi209JXbWAWVrp9nv3jj9hLeGF68kOE3PH7vCKlRBFhVSEsz-6zX60EDvy-GcDrhp0bGSaH28ms/s1600/CIMG0354+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4np1v8uk3sexrwmUm95VkdmMkvDqrDzNTEfRnakrBMEyM7RqDtgMXOm71f0mV5Vxzi209JXbWAWVrp9nv3jj9hLeGF68kOE3PH7vCKlRBFhVSEsz-6zX60EDvy-GcDrhp0bGSaH28ms/s320/CIMG0354+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy7MuyHfeDjB90e2tcgnE0RBFFWbmSZW7EGePeEXEODx_d8Z9yCdwt0ZGzAgQtYRtGlaZt89zf93JWo-BbIRqVf7EmWbXSnlLQlDbGjkBBfsPPHCYHW85jH3rCkPnL-1K_XpqbL6z5H7o/s1600/CIMG0314+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy7MuyHfeDjB90e2tcgnE0RBFFWbmSZW7EGePeEXEODx_d8Z9yCdwt0ZGzAgQtYRtGlaZt89zf93JWo-BbIRqVf7EmWbXSnlLQlDbGjkBBfsPPHCYHW85jH3rCkPnL-1K_XpqbL6z5H7o/s320/CIMG0314+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div>The night ended in our quarter, sipping on some canned apple cider (yum), both seing what seemed to be a FOX! I something like that two days ago already, but dismissed it as being a cat. But now that we both saw it simultaneously, I'm certain it was one - right in London.TPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05859356900889164252noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2255066661749398790.post-32494558798339606412010-09-03T15:06:00.003+01:002010-09-06T21:35:09.282+01:00Day 03: Going through the motions.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3rpt9ozYF23EVxyAjQOqWD50FnEUMhVDg645FB-0xzdnUNfof8mrjQfHqmaH_Qk-9Mh2DGkvCMRGWN5N3ZRWdOP-KZeFBIW6nTR7qkf7RpubmRm3D6LvYqpE-OzzyolapZCENr5VYbWk/s1600/CIMG0299+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3rpt9ozYF23EVxyAjQOqWD50FnEUMhVDg645FB-0xzdnUNfof8mrjQfHqmaH_Qk-9Mh2DGkvCMRGWN5N3ZRWdOP-KZeFBIW6nTR7qkf7RpubmRm3D6LvYqpE-OzzyolapZCENr5VYbWk/s320/CIMG0299+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div>Alright, so today it kinda hit me. This was the first day I was actually pretty much all by myself and felt lonely here for the very first time. First thing I did was looking for Streatham Railroad Station, checking if it would be faster to go to work via train instead of the tube. It might be, but it is stupid. Thanks to the British not being too fond of streetsigns as is seems, it took me quite some time just finding the station. Streatham really is no pretty place, thankfully I am staying just between there and tooting bec. Then I found the train slow, I missed the connecting train and generally did notl ike the vibe it somehow had. Well. I'll take the tube.<br />
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I found the place rather easily when I arrived. To my suprise, I can see the Palace of Westminster and the London Eye from there. Nice :) <span id="goog_1442539886"></span><span id="goog_1442539887"></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWQcwFVWDC0a0AbTIhvaRn5yyE3Lx4gMeSnMFGoHPDuuiEtpKBl2pqhPB7F3BKc5Pbntu6UiUt86j9D8zuiDJjM8rLUNsrybuUIVWs9r5441O6Qctc6tEe7W8FypF0GC5Zljrh_aYo-sY/s1600/CIMG0303+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWQcwFVWDC0a0AbTIhvaRn5yyE3Lx4gMeSnMFGoHPDuuiEtpKBl2pqhPB7F3BKc5Pbntu6UiUt86j9D8zuiDJjM8rLUNsrybuUIVWs9r5441O6Qctc6tEe7W8FypF0GC5Zljrh_aYo-sY/s320/CIMG0303+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></div>Afterwards I went on to visit the V&A and while I really like it there and the Giftshop is amazing with more than just that souvenir crap, I really was not feeling it. I forced myself to take a few pictures at the beginning but really could not further on. I did not even have the motivation to really read the map or a lot of the descriptions. I went on to the Natural History Museum, but really just to kill some time. I really want to go there again, though, when I am more motivated. <br />
I don't know what exactly it was. Maybe it was just the malnutrition I'm experiencing here by eating too little and things I usually wouldn't (there is only white bread, jam and PB for breakfast, everyday the same...oh, and super duper sugary cereals if I wanted to with occasionally rotten milk, so I heard. They are actually German haha, I saw a Lidl not too far away). Or really just the feeling of loneliness I felt. Work is only starting on Monday and I did not really have the chance to meet anybody so far. Nevermind.TPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05859356900889164252noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2255066661749398790.post-26525898167423546632010-09-02T21:31:00.003+01:002010-09-06T21:35:29.690+01:00Day 02: Did you know they have traffic lights for trespassers in Germany? (02.09.2010)In the morning, P called and we decided on a time and place to meet. We already made plans for hooking up today but still had to settle on a time and place. Brixton Station. 12.30 pm. Fun! So I got down, said good morning to my host who made me some nightmarish swill what she dared to call coffee (instant) but I'd rather call BÄH. It kinda tasted like burned toast, no other flavour, no real coffee. But maybe I was supposed to dip my actual toast into that stuff as this one really could have used some heat. I wasn't sure whether the jam actually contained strawberries but it does - though it really is pretty much at the end of the list of ingredients. hm Compared to German no-name products, British ones really really look as cheap as they are and well the quality; oh the quality...<br />
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Nevermind. Excited to meet P I got to Brixton which is really not too far away from my place. Thing was... my mobile screwed me over; it set itself back to German time in a magical process I only can assume - or maybe it just hates me for treating it that badly... Anyway. When P called I thought it was 11 already but it wasn't. I only realized that because I saw another watch at the tube station. Dayum. But hey, I had to keep myself busy so far and probably have to for a longer time here as I still don't know anybody and Brixton is awesome. It's very multicultural and especially influenced by African-Caribbean culture (excuse me if I'm wrong). So I took a short stroll around the outside market with reggae blasting from one side and dancehall from another. Germans would compare the atmosphere with a bazaar, but that's of a different cultural origin.<br />
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Afterwards, I chilled for a little while in front of the Ritzy, an old cinema with a story to tell (which I don't know...). Just there is a park with a not mentionworthy size having something on the ground which I would not really call a well or fountain, but rather a waterspraying play on the ground. I found it a bit odd that there were actually mothers with their children (I assume) meeting there, sitting on the little green areas having a picnic, their children wearing swimming clothes, playing in the water. You wouldn't find something alike in Germany, I assume.<br />
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Only after a little while, I returned back to Brixton Station, still waiting for P to arrive (who was on time, btw). Lucky for me, there was a little Starbucks (they are EVERYWHERE, seemingly squeezed into whatever small room is there) with a woman sporadically coming out offering free samples so I was able to mooch off some vanilla latte and a lemon frappucino of her - keeping me hydrated and saving me maybe 3Pounds or whatever that would have cost me (not that I was going to buy some, anyway).<br />
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When she finally emerged from the station - sporting an AWESOME do which unfortunately will be gone when she's back teaching - she showed me around Brixton Market, telling me what has changed around there, at the same time searching for a place to have authentic West Indian (/Caribbean) food for lunch (thank you for the invite again!). After dismissing two places, hungry and slightly impatient we settled on a small restaurant what she remembered to have been a nice Caribbean bakery, but is now a rather corny place resembling a hut, whith the most prominent colors being the ones of the Jamaican flag and palm trees painted onto the walls etc. (and little plates with proverbs - "Puss gaan, Rats tek ova", was is?). The music was not less corny, but nice consisting of disco music, early hip hop an so on - black artists, naturally.<br />
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Anyway, everything on the menu was authentic so P told me and turned out to be reeeaaally delicious! Both of us had some guinness punch (guinness beer, sweetened condensed milk and spice) she had jerk lamb w/ yam, a dumpling and banana (not sweet and rather dry and solid in its consistency, just like the other two - I got to try it, yeah! ) and I myself had jerk chicken with plantain (from the same family as bananas, tasting like a cross between them and potatoes). We both had rice and beans again, which is exactly that, rice and beans, duh. Leckerschmecker, and I will definitely eat in Brixton again. Oh, I had the decency to not wildly take pictures of everything while I was with her like a dumb tourist, so no pictures here, my bad. Maybe some other time.<br />
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After our great meal, we took a stroll over Brixton Market again, meeting one Jamaican shop-owner who lived in Germany for a while with her husband! As I had no definite plans for the afternoon, I took the tube to Greenwich over Canary Wharf, so we could still spend some time together before we both went our own ways. When we were in the tube, I was telling her about my encounter with an old lady in Sarstedt at a red traffic light which ended with me pretending not to be German so I don't have to listen to her nagging as I passed a red one (no car insight!). Alas, I mixed up the word "pedestrian" (Fußgänger) with "trespasser"(Eindringling, jemand, der unbefugt ein/dein Haus betritt) so everybody had a good laugh while I humiliated my stupid foreign me (just kidding).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>After we said goodbye, I continued to Canary Wharf, a modern business and economy area with skyscrapers that don't scrape that much, but are quite impressive, nevertheless (too much stone, steel and glass for me, though.) After not too much time having passed, I finally took the DLR revisiting Greenwich, as I have been there on a school trip 3 years ago.<br />
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I was in two bookstores, looking for a certain book that I imagined I'd buy from one of these cute little ones rather than Barnes & Nobles which would not have that romantic cling to it, but nevermind. The One Pound Bookstore by the way turned into an ordinary one. :(<br />
I also saw the playhouse we saw Romeo and Juliette in 3 years ago (the one which is actually a pub with just one little room for the play in the back) and had a Café au Lait dans Café Rouge just like we had then (do you remember, Mary?).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Money Shot - This is what everybody was wating for. ;)</td></tr>
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At the end of the day, I saw the Palace of Westminster, lingering in its small park for a little while.TPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05859356900889164252noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2255066661749398790.post-90392042774430128952010-09-01T01:49:00.001+01:002010-09-06T21:35:44.072+01:00Day 01:London Bridge is falling down - and I'm falling...into a funk??Yeah well, not quite. As I was way too tired to write my first entry immediately, I'll have to make up for it today. <br />
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So the day of my departure had come. As my mind was filled with different things before, I didn't really have enough time to prepare myself so it kinda hit me like a suckerpunch. Packing was a bitch as usual, so I had to pay for overweight (well, you always gotta pay for THAT one). Lovely start. My plane took off at 6.50 am so getting up at 4 would have been okay, if I had managed to sleep at all – what I didn't. Blegh. <br />
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The flight itself was actually alright. There was supposed to be a transfer waiting for me to get me from London-Stansted to Streatham since taking the train, tube and bus with all my stuff seemed not only risky to me, but also pretty stressful – on a day that was quite stressful already. Which of course... wasn't. Tired, pissed and exhausted I waited for about half an hour before I started to fumble around for a paper with the so called „Emergency Number“ on, Just when I hit the call button, a boy – 16 I guess and obviously of Slavic origin – tipped me on the shoulder showing me a sign with what seems to be my new name around here (the last vowel of my last name has always been an O so far no matter with whom I have had contact to in Britain). Hello transfer boy whose name he never told me. Bring me to my destination, please. The „transfer“ itself was actually a real junker with an air refreshener that had „merry christmas“ on it in the back and the driver was a man with a grey, big, bushy beard in his mid-fifties probably. Dobře, Santa. Did I mention that the plate wasn't even British? Shady shady, I thought. But this odd couple actually turned out to be two cordial, funny Russians who told me a bit about London, living here and their habits. They also told me that if I don't want to get in trouble in LDN, I won't get in trouble. Good to know, honestly. <br />
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Due to rush hour traffic, it took us two hours to finally get to my new „home“ which turned out to be... a real dump. Seriously, I was shocked. <br />
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The old lady seemed nice (still does), but a bit went to rack and ruin – so is the place. It's dirty, stuffed with bibelot and what else and my room is really what I would call „versifft“. When I saw the dresser, I decided to leave my stuff in the suitcase. The wardrobe. Well, you can find hangers – a nice collection from the last 5 decades I assume – but also residues from who knows who, including – and by far the most delightfil object – a sheet of some random pills I am definetely never going to investigate any further. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf1jaVa0ij6d04jkM-rKXU1jJ724FzLUfKyKqs53DBOxEVj4rPzs_OjWY1h_MCnolmCjL0Elio64BoV92h3wWaKgS4jTTzAqWF4JlOtfmXBrwuJ-KwUXRVc-jG-KO5WhqGEHS32OZd0OU/s1600/IMG_0002+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf1jaVa0ij6d04jkM-rKXU1jJ724FzLUfKyKqs53DBOxEVj4rPzs_OjWY1h_MCnolmCjL0Elio64BoV92h3wWaKgS4jTTzAqWF4JlOtfmXBrwuJ-KwUXRVc-jG-KO5WhqGEHS32OZd0OU/s400/IMG_0002+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5mBblWThcmITZoFsmRyXy3E2aKC2CEys3OxDyqv1TtncvCit9SqKVgGkrVwxNbcV8dBIctnnFXETMyseshD4HYvmaKW5V2jXWYg8nra8pPdjtKOE93CksXKCgF1d7MdBPaaHpKaq-Jqk/s1600/IMG_0012+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5mBblWThcmITZoFsmRyXy3E2aKC2CEys3OxDyqv1TtncvCit9SqKVgGkrVwxNbcV8dBIctnnFXETMyseshD4HYvmaKW5V2jXWYg8nra8pPdjtKOE93CksXKCgF1d7MdBPaaHpKaq-Jqk/s320/IMG_0012+%28Medium%29.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">De Fucking licious</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgpK49blIzcI-juAUNdIGFvpQ6S1y_O3uvUIAN1RB2OWdKoqDqkoEkTwrtqbXMGoIDe6BCMVm2mTnaqnzSGwf4_cudbNPScZ0F7FS5xiXiITuzpMifZBIkDiIbx-OcfY69Q4z-s8vdNpE/s1600/IMG_0007+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgpK49blIzcI-juAUNdIGFvpQ6S1y_O3uvUIAN1RB2OWdKoqDqkoEkTwrtqbXMGoIDe6BCMVm2mTnaqnzSGwf4_cudbNPScZ0F7FS5xiXiITuzpMifZBIkDiIbx-OcfY69Q4z-s8vdNpE/s400/IMG_0007+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="298" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtaAOaCv5w1xuHvYAD0s_OpiNU-hy8n-nCuICgNNIjf9_kyGAOzzm9I_jffCA7fg3gV3YA9b6ToocffPrDduRqRttl4j8aGUESwkwJweriTtg7Fhywu43fYXEGUwHwORPMbN5bArvPkYQ/s1600/IMG_0010+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtaAOaCv5w1xuHvYAD0s_OpiNU-hy8n-nCuICgNNIjf9_kyGAOzzm9I_jffCA7fg3gV3YA9b6ToocffPrDduRqRttl4j8aGUESwkwJweriTtg7Fhywu43fYXEGUwHwORPMbN5bArvPkYQ/s400/IMG_0010+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi46mCJsaBgQ5sH2E9ETlg7jK5W-AVn2HbNnwMgUAeMILjCxilGV7Z3nmS3NJ5peSXupoNv36CyNhPB9mlLSBal8ehP8ynf1w6H2p-eDWnEqtKWtWT9fsywDAK9auwhSJBr2ndjl5WRVLQ/s1600/IMG_0009+%28Medium%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi46mCJsaBgQ5sH2E9ETlg7jK5W-AVn2HbNnwMgUAeMILjCxilGV7Z3nmS3NJ5peSXupoNv36CyNhPB9mlLSBal8ehP8ynf1w6H2p-eDWnEqtKWtWT9fsywDAK9auwhSJBr2ndjl5WRVLQ/s400/IMG_0009+%28Medium%29.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hello pills on the floor. Stay where yoe are, would you.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>That was the moment I decided that couldn't live here. Two hours later, I came to terms with it. Now, I actually kinda like it. Feels just like home (well, somebody's at least who is not me, but nevermind...). <br />
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As I kinda knew that I would fall into a little bit of a funk on my first day, I purposely left my toothbrush and paste (just like shower gel, shampoo and deodorant – but that had something to do with trying to stay below the allowed weight of my luggage) at home so that I had to force myself out no matter what. The area seems to be a nice multicultural working class quarter – ugly and shabby, but in a peaceful way with decent people (as far as I can judge by now). There are shops right around the corner, good and cheap. After getting everything I needed, I decided to go somewhere, so I hopped pretty much onto a random bus, that took me to a random station, which turned out to be Tooting Broadway.<br />
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Lively place with shops and stuff, including what everybody I know who had been to London (or Bremen for that matter) loves: Primarck. And I got myself: Fancy-shmancy 5 Pound shoes with space invaders on the inside. SPACE INVADERS!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi6DuQ7hK2aNVHTnsMN5ZLxZwvROxVGNhv0vEMNb44aWOdbjSGpHTq_n-MHA_DOKlFS8ejAXE2LwplSMUdYgVJV6ibfaFftyAoM2-uoFiiR6clG3-jenJyd60bMOkRR_txbmguZgfsZI8/s1600/space.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi6DuQ7hK2aNVHTnsMN5ZLxZwvROxVGNhv0vEMNb44aWOdbjSGpHTq_n-MHA_DOKlFS8ejAXE2LwplSMUdYgVJV6ibfaFftyAoM2-uoFiiR6clG3-jenJyd60bMOkRR_txbmguZgfsZI8/s640/space.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Space. Invaders.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Afterwards, I went on with my „mystery-marching“: I got into the tube and off on a place that sounded to be of interest – the London Bridge Area.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfFDsQZWeIEhRgWvrQzv4iBVKt-M9B1_ZrMXGFUa0hWy0VfSTggLED53w1AOv1H0dIl8-E1G2p7SzfY-bfo4WivC_GiqVnHU8vb2rW5vRfIjfh0lpv15YWtCwigELimaCWVmKYjHrgDS8/s1600/lolo1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfFDsQZWeIEhRgWvrQzv4iBVKt-M9B1_ZrMXGFUa0hWy0VfSTggLED53w1AOv1H0dIl8-E1G2p7SzfY-bfo4WivC_GiqVnHU8vb2rW5vRfIjfh0lpv15YWtCwigELimaCWVmKYjHrgDS8/s320/lolo1.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY8ytf7bFH5U8ZHlFP-zQPhjYKfsTNEJfaqdFqWcMMWqGgZW34UktA_UhYm2NVte_poSOjZDs4Q3GQ0dZdyVwpSvI1Yj4j5yBbug0OOWizyqsgRdV6wGdG_WuY51VboWoBK-J_I8I6hzU/s1600/lolo4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY8ytf7bFH5U8ZHlFP-zQPhjYKfsTNEJfaqdFqWcMMWqGgZW34UktA_UhYm2NVte_poSOjZDs4Q3GQ0dZdyVwpSvI1Yj4j5yBbug0OOWizyqsgRdV6wGdG_WuY51VboWoBK-J_I8I6hzU/s320/lolo4.jpg" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7J_F9f4BN13OAGINhyv0IUSQ5Ml8ECNk4UJyUql7FRbxFKv-lx0WXB_gtIO4YnIYz7kvXv_-9u8yrCP7Ejr5qXK0TjDdS9CTYOSjTAOG2xEpkZHQQb3SdQvhOhQhJF1_nmlpHlLuccMk/s1600/lolo2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7J_F9f4BN13OAGINhyv0IUSQ5Ml8ECNk4UJyUql7FRbxFKv-lx0WXB_gtIO4YnIYz7kvXv_-9u8yrCP7Ejr5qXK0TjDdS9CTYOSjTAOG2xEpkZHQQb3SdQvhOhQhJF1_nmlpHlLuccMk/s320/lolo2.jpg" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYRWcoBPE0wa7dQmu41NW7D4VG-j6OieT8etTxINt_1LVKvg2HVXrG2cptqopuiRLwMj4TOkFWnBvOMZ8D200dJ2soG67pkipLY7IOhBvnUtqThGvSIAcY9Bz8zeoEcLSftDMA7vxFNOo/s1600/lolo3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYRWcoBPE0wa7dQmu41NW7D4VG-j6OieT8etTxINt_1LVKvg2HVXrG2cptqopuiRLwMj4TOkFWnBvOMZ8D200dJ2soG67pkipLY7IOhBvnUtqThGvSIAcY9Bz8zeoEcLSftDMA7vxFNOo/s320/lolo3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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After walking around for a while, I realized that I had not eaten all day. Being the cheap fucker that I am (not having a lot money could have a certain influence on that), I settled on the first low priced restaurant that crossed my path: Pret-á-Manger. About 2.50 for a tuna-cucumber sandwich (with rocket, that I am slightly allergic to since this year...) and 2.35 or so for a „strong“ latte: First thing I ate on British soil.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWLWJT0mnSO3ssEng7vWshDcMBoRckTsa-KocwZEo07VQosbU5Ii3PAu-c7uguWAFgg_mUaktHbhR8VMpZLW8ixbbf3HGhMYzkEeCVpKnm1seqYjP8U5k3jVikkRb_Zk-lWDKNdvoBSeI/s1600/preta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWLWJT0mnSO3ssEng7vWshDcMBoRckTsa-KocwZEo07VQosbU5Ii3PAu-c7uguWAFgg_mUaktHbhR8VMpZLW8ixbbf3HGhMYzkEeCVpKnm1seqYjP8U5k3jVikkRb_Zk-lWDKNdvoBSeI/s320/preta.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">London: The only place you consider this cheap...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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After walking around in this area for a while, it was time to go „home“. Too bad I am still not good with the bus stations, so I got off too early and had to to what I actually planned not to: walking along the park at night. I had checked out the area already via google earth and considered it potentially dangerous, but anyway, seemed like it really isn't. As I told that to the lady I'm staying with, she too asured me that it isn't, but well, „some gentlemen like to meet there at night“. Well well, I can handle THAT.<br />
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Oh yeah, the walls in this house seem to be made out of paper that clairaudiant it is, the little Czech girl – maybe 19 years old and a stay of 3 weeks for a language course, ending on Sunday – who is staying here as well agreed on that. She also told me that we are actually lucky to be here, other people had it worse with their hosts.<br />
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So far for day one.TPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05859356900889164252noreply@blogger.com2