The Bar Crawl moments

The Borough Market, starting place of the bar crawl. A market for foodies and everyone else, right off of London Bridge. London is a town for markets. They are everywhere and at least one is happening almost every day of the week. The Borough Market is definitely one of my favs in London. Katie wanted her pic taken in front of the brownies. Don't they look tasty?


This is Corrie, a native of Springfiled,IL and a fellow bar crawler. In fact, the crawl was her brainchild. Clearly a bad influence, here she sits in the new OXO lounge a floor below the infamous restaurant.
I loved this river view. I think another bridge is being built. Now it looks like a river Modern Art Scene.

Crawling from bar to bar

I think the last time I attempted to participate in a proper bar crawl, when the whole thing was over and done with I vowed never to do it again. It took place in NE MPLS, a perfect bar crawl area. From Tony Jarro's to Dusty's we went and when we made it home with our lives and limbs, I vowed - never again. That was probably sometime during 2003. Now, three years later, my resolve forgotten, I find that I have once again survived a serious bar crawl along the Thames between London Bridge and Waterloo. This morning, as I contemplate the events of yesterday, I am happy to say that I am back to the bar crawl boycott.

Just in the mood to post pics

I love this photo. I realize I might be the only one, and I accept that. The day of this pic it was cold in London. Much colder than it had been in MN. I had spring fever and needed to get out of the house. Kate and I hung out in Crystal Palace on this day, and by the time I was ready to go home, I had just had it. Freezing, damp, sore feet, hungry - that whole thing. I think I look a bit like someone who isn't sure about a room for the night. Not something easy or comfortable to think about, but for some odd reason it pleases me to look the part and fantasize about surviving the experience. This probably means I should get out of social work. I'm afraid it has me now though. Too much about it keeps me sucked in to the misery and hope of it all. Anyway, since I now have no car this is a common look for me around the streets of London. In other words, I'm looking street in the streets. Word.



This is my favorite Paris spot, amongst the hub and the bub of the Louvre grounds. It's tranquil and feminine and compelling, all in one tiny space. It's the statue that starts it, and the water that ends it. There is tension in this art park, but of the most pleasing variety.



I had to take a trip to a small town about an hour out of London the other day. The city I visited (Bedford) was odd. A hodgepodge of punked out loitering teenagers, strip malls and middle aged pregnant women. It felt spooky, to be honest. On the way, I took a photo of this lovely field from the window of the train. It was a pretty ride.




This is a georgous view of London from a cute little neighborhood near me called "Crystal Palace."

Living Dilemma

What to do what to do.

Is it better to pay more than half a monthly income to live alone with the peace and freedom of being flatmate free, but in a dodgy building in a semi-economically depressed area, or is it better to save a boatload of cash and move to a better neighborhood closer to central London but have flatmates, no quiet, no peace. Pros, cons, pros, cons....I really don't know. I've been broken into, I'm not super comfortable in my flat given the circumstances around the break-in, but still, I'm 36 and love the quiet and solitude of living alone. Will it be impossible to save my quality of life with flatmates and more cash to spend on seeing the rest of the world???

Some pics to help form your view:
My building,and a prety park about six blocks away. Sure, I wouldn't walk there alone at night, but where in London would I? Exactly.

Beautiful Brighton by the Sea

It's small but saavy. Occassionally chick and as often, hippy. It's home away from home (penge) away from home (Minneapolis).

Brighton is my America away from America. It's a little San Fran. I have made three trips and I'm sure I will keep on going back. On my most recent visit, I had the pleasure of Kate's company, who thought I should bring all my visitors given the charm and creative energy of the place. She may have loved it because it seems to clearly be the least English town in England (from what I've seen so far anyway) but she didn't say that, so it's hard to know for certain.

After a perfect day of sunshine, ocean, artesian booths, fish, chips and mussy peas, we had no choice but to head home. On the train back to Penge, there were three blokes (English term for regular guy) sitting on the seats across the isle from us. One of them looked like Tony Randall, but he wasn't as charming. It could have been due to his level of intoxication, which was apparent or it might have been because he used the term "queer" like he had to spit it out of his mouth for fear of the bad taste it might leave. I told him he looked like a celeb, but I couldn't quite place it. Kate piped up and mentioned the odd couple, which he wasn't familiar with, but which must have sounded fishy to him, as he quickly used the term queer to infer he was not. Whatever his motive, it made me think of him as less than enlightened. One of my New Year's resolutions is to work on being less critical and quick to jump to conclusions, but so far I am making a slow start. It's already April and I am still deciding things about people I don't know. Baby steps. This is going be a life long challenge. It's sad really because I am so nice in other ways.

The point of all that was that I learned some things from said three regular guys: Brighton has the highest per capita heroine use and trade than any other city in England, Brighton seems friendly and safe but that is an allusion as the drug trafficking requires an extra police force just to manage all the related issues and Brighton is ten years behind America, just like the rest of England (I should mention that Kate and two of the three blokes agreed with this centiment whilst (English word for while) Tony Randall guy and I thought that America was too ethnocentric to rate themselves next to the rest of the world...and that made me like him sort of, but not enough to think he was nice or interesting). The most decent seeming of the group of three, as he was leaving the train, asked an interesting question that neither Kate nor I could address. Does anyone know why America has named the European sport of football, Soccer? Of course we couldn't call it football (although did American football come before soccer?) because we already have American Football...but why soccer?

Despite the abundance of drug users and traffickers alleged to live in Brighton, it is a lovely little seaside town that is English enough to remind you America is still 9 hours away by direct flight, but American enough to keep desperation at bay when you're sick to death of the whilsts, the blokes, the lorries, the parcels, the crisps, the Yorkshire pudding, the rubbish and the pollution of London.

Back to Cambridge

Did I mention that a while back I took a day trip to Cambridge? Lovely town. So many Universities that I couldn't see them all. I finally got the pics downloaded so I thought I would post a few. The Punters were my fav.

More Paris Pics

Paris Pics

From elegant and elevated to downright dirty, Paris is an enchantress. Everywhere I looked there was something compelling. French lessons are next. Definitely.

Paris anyone?

Oh the Joy of living in a place where a two hour train trip lands you in Paris. Katie and I had the immense pleasure of visiting Paris over the Easter weekend. In England, all of the employed celebrate what they call "Bank Holidays"; basically the American equivalent to a public holiday like Thanksgiving or Memorial Day. Easter is as significant a holiday period in England as Christmas. Children get two weeks off school for "Easter Break" and I got a lovely long weekend, from Friday - Monday to play in gay Paris.

Kate and I didn't have a lot of luck with French cuisine, but aside from that, Paris was everything. Enchanting, entertaining, mysterious, slightly sleazy, occasionally strange, always so beautiful....it is a place that I could live quite happily, even with a significant language barrier.

I hope to return to Paris, but because there is so much more of France that I now really must indulge in, I can only hope there will still be time and money left for another Paris excursion before my time in Europe comes to an end.

Milano!

I love Italy in a way that makes it impossible for me to do anything but at least consider that I was Italian or lived in Italy in a past life. I respond to Italy with such nostalgia that I must have been there before. I have about five more cities to hit and a little bit of coutry side before my relationship with Italy in this life comes to a close. For the moment, here is Milano!

St Patrick's Day Came a Week Early in London

St. Patrick's day in London took place the Sunday before the actual event. I don't know why, but it might have something to do with the fact that it's a day named after a Saint and for people who are close to the ethnic origin of it all, Church plays a big part. That's a guess. The only thing I really know is that London does an impressive celebration and I have the pics to prove it.

Katie comes to London

I had most of February to myself in London. I did fun things and loved life fully. I had the chance to visit Cambridge, I explored Soho, I toured Crystal Palace Park and in general took in London as much as possible. My February highlight was seeing Woody Haroldson in "Night of the Iguana". I had great seats and it was just wierd and totaly wonderful to see Woody kick some West End ass. I am still thinking about that play. It was so good. It was the first time i saw the work of T. Williams where I thought to myself "OK, now I get it".

In the first week of March, I enjoyed the much anticipated arrival of Katie, who somehow worked out a three month travel sabatical from work. Katie and I were planning to go to Ireland and kiss the Blarney Stone on our way to bike the Dingle Penninsyla two days after she arrived, but she had such a hard time getting through immigration that we decided not to risk leaving the country. Instead we hung out in Trafalgar Square, in Covent Garden we ate Mexican food and drank cocktails so sweet we named them "love cocktails" and we had a wonderful couple of London tourist days. Good times.

A week later my friend Monique arrived for her first ever out of the country holiday. We had an excellent weekend including a St. Patricks day festival in London. Monique, I hope, enjoyed her vacation and Katie and I enjoyed her company. Monique and I celebrated her European introduction with a weekend jaunt to Milan right before her depature. Pictures to follow.

Bath Pics

Lovely Bath deserves a photo or two.

Here we have the Roman Baths, The Bath Abby and the famous Bridge in Bath.

January and Parents

After Daph went South and Caroline went home, I waited about 10 minutes and lo and behold, my parents were on my door step. My dad, the trooper that he is, the same man that said "I just don't have much curiosity about the world" tolerated a 10 hour travel day just to see the digs of his daughter. My mom loves to travel, so she was easy to convince.

During my parents visit they spent their first day in Penge. We spent Saturday in Brighton, which I have named the SanFrancisco of England because it really is. Sunday we tooled around London, which was wonderful. I first experienced speakers corner in Hyde Park with mom and dad. We saw someone who appeared to be American pretending to preach about the merits of salvation through Jesus Christ. I have a suspicion that the guy was actually an actor with ambitions of becoming a stand up comedian. He drew a big crowd filled with Atheist hecklers and other hethans.

After a long day of walking and tubing and watching the ducks in parks, we found this little pub near the Charring Cross Station that had a no smoking section, which was bliss, and if that weren't good enough, they had the best sausaged I have ever tasted. I had some wierd "toad in a hole" dish that was all about Yorkshire Pudding, sausage and gravy. My mom had killer bangers and mash and my dad had a cheesburger. I'm kidding about the cheesburger.

After the weekend, Mom and Dad were on there own in London for a few days. They do not reccomend the Original Bus Company hop on/off tour. They do reccomend the Museum of London and they do reccomend a side trip to Bath. That was our next destination.

We spent two nights and two full days in Bath. That was a good amount of time to fully take in the city. We all really loved Bath. The architecture is stunning but it pales in comparison to the architecture of the Roman Baths. Amazing. I'm sure Mom and Dad will be coming back someday, well, Mom will be for sure, and we will do Wales next. That's the plan.

Pictures of Tuscany Trip

Photos are always a beautiful thing. Here are just a few images from Pisa, Seina and San Gigigamono.

After the Holidays

About two weeks after my sister's visit, I fell into hard times. My flat was broken into and my valuables were nicked (British slang for stolen... love it!). My beautiful new laptop was the biggest hit of the heist and it put quite a damper on my holiday spirit.

I wasn't planning on being home for Christmas, but after such a rotten experience I needed the support and safety of my family and my partner. Plane tickets were completely unreasonable, to the tune of $1,300 - $1,700. I was complaining to my sister over the phone one night about the impossibility of getting home. She, in turn, was complaining about it to her colleagues in the office. Upon hearing of my plight, my sister's boss donated so many frequent flyer miles to my cause that I was able to fly home for next to nothing. (Thank-you Dick...I still get emotional about it when I think of your kindness) My visit home was too short, but it gave me the boost of confidence I needed and healed up my emotional wounds. Ready to face my adventure once again, I returned to London.

The day after my return, my friend and former bandmate, Daph came for a visit. The day after her arrival, my friend and former bandmate, Caroline came for a visit. The girls stayed for two weeks and the time was well spent. We did a little traveling together. It reminded me of my last great international vacation to New Zealand, as I was traveling with the same two girls.

This trip, the three of us flew to Pisa, Italy. Oh the beauty and romance of Italy. I was enchanted immediately. We spent a good part of one day in Pisa where I was stunned by the beauty of the Duomo and the Leaning Tower, before we flew through Tuscany in our little mini-sized rental car. We ate amazing food (as every girl should when she spends time in Italy), we drank good wine, we visited a village still standing tall and in it's original form, surviving it's own history that dates back to the 11th Century (for pete's sake).....The Cathedrals, the tiny beautiful people (I am not kidding when I say that I was the biggest person in Siena), the buildings, the language...all of it filled me up with joy. I was overwhelmed with the excitement and inspiration of being part of such a place, even for a moment.

After a weekend in Italy, I returned to London. Daph and Caroline, lucky dogs, continued on to Roma, Cilento and Napoli. We all regrouped in London again for one last who-ha before Caroline flew home to Minnesota, and Daphne drove south with her British boyfriend to experiment with life in Winchester, England.

Amy in London

Fun pics that Amy sent from her November 2005 trip to the lovely London. Good times.

My first visitors

I didn't suffer too long in the immense loneliness that seems to inevitably accompany any major life transition. Thank goodness for my sister is all I have to say about that.

Amy and a friend of hers gave me just shy of three weeks to settle in before coming for a visit. I saw more of London and did more Londonish stuff in the week of her visit that I had in the three weeks I had lived here. It was wonderful. We saw Les Miserables where I was so moved I cried (of course), we had many lovely meals including the best dimsum I have ever tried. We also ate some super-wired morsels at this Malaysian fusion place called Bangor Manchor??? Something like that. Amy drank champagne and ate oysters. She introduced me to my now fav Knotting Hill pub, The Cow and we found my favorite London confectioners place, The casbar, while wandering around Piccadilly Square together. It was a wonderful visit and saved it me from my feelings of isolation. My sister's trip gave me the London jumpstart I had not self-initiated and now I love it so much sometimes I can hardly stand it! Thank-you Amy Spartz is all there is to it.

Pictures of my pad

This is my home away from home.

It's a hack job of an apartment, but it looks lovely and it keeps me company. The floors aren't level, the molding don't meet the walls, the exhaust fan is faux, and yet it has this mint green almost leather couch that makes everything else seem like a small price to pay. It has three rooms (including the bathroom) and a hallway. It's not a lot of space, but it is right across the street from my place of employment, it's 20 minutes from central London by train, it's 45 minutes from Gatwick airport including the bus ride, so all in all, landing in my cute hack-job of an apartment was a stroke of luck.

First it was Poland....

I have wanted to live abroad for as long as I can remember. I had fantasies of teaching English in Poland. I think the thought of Poland became a driving force pushing me toward change around 2001. Somehow that evolved into moving to Ireland and continuing my career in social work. In the end, I found a job in the London Borough of Broomley and ultimately landed in Penge.

I left Minneapolis on November 07 and got off the plane in London England on November 08 2006. I had three suitcases, 900 pounds cash, a smell that suggested a shower was needed and a headache. I took a cab to "Abode London" where I was scheduled to meet this guy, Ben, who was going to help me move into my pre-booked, pre-paid new flat in Upper Norwood, London.

I paid my cab driver, already decreasing the worth of my estate to 840 pounds, and went into the office of Abode London (letting agents...i.e. They help you find a place to live) where I met Ben. Ben had been helping me try to find a place before coming to London via the Abode London website. We both thought I was meeting him at the office only to sign some papers before I would be free to move into my new flat in Upper Norwood London. Ben said "Why don't we go have a look at the old place first." I actually told him I was certain that wasn't necessary. I'm so thankful he insisted, because my new home was nothing at all like the flat I thought I would be moving into.

It was in the basement (which was my first surprise), and as Ben and I were walking down the stairs, the smell of the building far exceeded my own slightly sour odor. It was completely gross. I was trying too keep an open mind and muster some excitement about my new home, but it was clear that the Universe was giving me a clear sign not to move in when, as I moved to step into the teeny, tiny bathroom of the place, which was so dirty I don't know how a person could get clean in it, out of nowhere came this audible fart. Yep. I just turned around and looked at Ben, who had his mouth open and was silently laughing. I giggled to keep from crying. It was a pathetic and hilarious moment. I was standing in a tiny, disgusting bathroom with this man of about 20 who I didn't know who was hard to understand given his strong English accent and who told me I was "such a bird". I smelled bad, I had slept about two hours in the last 24, I was hungry, I had just left my girlfriend and my family and all of my friends to face a new life adventure only to find that I hated my new place to live and to top it all off, I had just let one fly in the face of a stranger.

Ben agreed to let me out of the reservation for the horrible Upper Norward flat and helped me find a much better flat in Penge. It all happened on my first day in England.

Needless to say, after an incredibly long and traumatic day, I was happy to find a Chinese take-out restaurant five blocks from my house. I got some food that was probably horrible but tasted amazing. I drank nearly a bottle of red wine and smoked a few cigarettes. I had a good cry and I feel fast asleep. Day one, down.