Ridley Rd. Market

Recently I read an article about the five best markets in London ... the two clear winners are the notorious Borough market - foodie haven and clincher for my decision to move to London - and Broadway market - somewhat like a little Borough with a non-stop stream of eyebrow-raising hipster fashion just a walk up the canal from my place.

However, to my surprise the Ridley Road Market was also listed.  Ridley Rd. in the Dalston neighbourhood northeast of the city is also within walking distance of my flat and I had yet to pay it a visit ... what fortune!

This market is quite different from the others.  First, it is in the heart of an African neighbourhood, and the foods, flavours, and products exemplify that heritage.  Also, it's visitors tend to be lower income than the Borough type, so there are some great deals to come by as well (was listed as some of the most affordable veg in the city!).

So, this Saturday (oh glorious Saturdays when there is nothing to do but explore!) I grabbed my shopping bag, camera, and hit the street to see what was to offer.

I didn't quite expect I would leave England for a few hours, transported somewhere with smells of spice, entrancing music, bright colours, never before seen vegetables, and questionable cuts of meat.  It was amazing.

I'll admit, I was possibly caught a few times with my jaw hanging open as I stared in awe at woman wrapping themselves in stunning ethnic fabrics or an elderly couple lifting cow hearts out of a tub to determine which one looked the tastiest for dinner.  

There were rooms with intricate hair-braiding going on, butcher shelves lined with ram skulls, and the darling little turquoise parrot fish I discovered while snorkelling in Mexico on chilly display for consumption.

Smells of incense, shea butter for you hair and skin, and freshly made grilled breads filled with cheese (OMG!) ... gold hoop earrings, lace curtains, and wool socks.  Fresh strawberries, plantains and garden eggs (which I now know are a delicacy for lovers in Africa, and you make an eggplant like stew with them).

Nonetheless, the diversity of options here in London, and more specifically in East London never cease to amaze me.  It's awesome to be able walk just a short distance in any direction and literally feel as if you touch the opposite ends of the world.  Blessed.

Do you see what I see?

Been trying to get a snap of this for weeks now.  I will for certain get a better one, but for now its on the record.

This momentary flash - fur, fear, curiosity, hunger - provides such great exhilaration each day.  And it is each day, like clock work, right within the view from my "office"...

The Royal Ascot ... again

So, I will leave this short - in the documentary sense only.  I did indeed attend the Royal Ascot horse race this year (for last year's commentary see here).

It worked out this way ...
1) no, I am not interesting in going
2) It costs money and I went last year
3) no really, I am glad you guys are going, but it is just not my thing
4) well, I don't know, it just not as up-class as you think its going to be
5) Last year I had to get standing only for an hour train ride in my heels!
6) Holy cow, I look amazing in this dress
7) You MAKE reasons to where dresses like this
8) I need to buy this dress
9) hey, you guys still going to Ascot?
10)  dang ... now I need to buy a hat.

Went ... bet ... lost ... saw more fake tan and platform pumps in one place than should be legal ... and of course, do not plan to go back.

P.S. there was an amazing Australian champion beauty flown over that was epic ... Black Caviar won the Queen's Jubilee race at Ascot 2012. I have my betting ticket against her to prove it.

A new found sense of freedom ...

While living in Chicago I always enjoyed riding my bike (a.k.a. "The Cadillac") around town to the markets, beach, dinner, etc.  In a city where driving isn't practical, and public transport, well stinky, riding a bike provides you with a means of travel complete with fresh air that is often much quicker than the alternatives.

It has been nearly two years now in London, and I have been hesitant to get a bike ... mainly because the arterial roads in the city are packed full of huge, scary buses that while sitting on the upper deck I have seen more than one close call with a biker.  Just getting used to being on the left side of the road took long enough to get accustomed to.

However, I am now ready.  The same desire - to get to my markets quicker and more exercise in my life - led me to the purchase of my Dutch bike!  


This large classic style frame provides just the right balance of practicality and cuteness.  While riding in Amsterdam (see blog here) my love for these bikes - with their heavy frame, covered bike chains, upright sitting style, and skirt guards - was solidified.  I still miss my rusty orange Schwinn from Chicago.


I researched online quite a bit, and honestly, the classics are VERY expensive.  With the odds being well over 50% that this bike will get stolen, I opted to get a used bike.  It is a Dutch 8-speed, rides very well, and has a cute rack on the back that has already proven to secure a bag of groceries.  Yet, it screams for a basket on the front ... waiting for the perfect one.


Turns out London is an amazing city for bikers!!  There are dozens of marked bike routes throughout the city that avoid the scary main roads and lead you down paths it seems one without a bike may never see!

The city provides free of charge awesome maps of the neighbourhoods, directing you to the most peaceful or efficient routes, depending on your need.  There are little secret routes, for bikes only and they even have biker stop lights!

I got down to the city centre in just 25 minutes (usually 45 minutes on public transport) and it looks like there is a safe route to my office.  Looking forward to this new found sense of freedom, and discovering even more hidden secrets in this intricate city.

Coldplay

There were a few things I knew about the band Coldplay ... they have some epic singles, are Brits, the lead singer married Gwyneth Paltrow, and they were playing at the Arsenal stadium in June (which is walking distance from my house).  This stacks up to a must see event.

I racked up six tickets, a crew to come along, and on a nice Spring evening in London there we were ... in the centre of the stadium watching the performance of the UK's top selling rock album of 2011.

I'm not a routine concert goer ... I mean I really do like Coldplay with their Earthy lyrics, dreamy rhythms, and perfect timing at introducing a jam session ... but, at first this was more a "been there, done that" kind of expectation.

What this turned into though was a bit more ... a push over the edge from just a music show.  It presented those moments when you look around with stars in your eyes, see your friends laughing, feel the unity of humanity, and jump up and down like you just don't care (or maybe conversely like it is just about the most important thing you could do).

There were large video screens so you could see the band, lasers, fireworks, bright colours, mad amounts of confetti, bouncing balls, lovers holding hands, and they gave every one lighted neon bracelets that blinked in perfect coordination with the beat of the music during parts of the show.  Pretty cool effects.

If you haven't heard of them, this video Yellow was one of their first, and of course they had dense yellow lighting while they played that ... girls were swooning.  Their most recent song "Paradise" was a hit, and of course "Viva la Vida" is a classic.


As if all that weren't enough, during the cliché 'pause, leave the stage, pretend the show is over' act they changed locations, moved towards the back of the stadium and literally popped out of the ground within meters of where we were standing!  It was the ultimate ... they performed their last few songs with the four of them on just a little stage right in front of us.  Nearly front row!

A friend of mine said it was a "life event".  It was etheral.  What's more, its kind of nice to know a couple guys at London City College, who played some tunes together, made it big time, married beautiful actresses and still maintained their souls.

Tea Cakes

Despite living in Britain for 22 months, I had yet to have a "proper" tea.  This was just unacceptable to my wonderful, baker friend Amy, who redeemed her birthday coupon this past weekend with an afternoon at the Wolseley.

Now, going for tea in England is not just a hot kettle of Lipton, oh no. Having tea is an event of cultural significance, and the manner in which you take your tea a symbol of your social class.  Ahhh, whatever, this is clearly about the cake (insert sarcastic comment about my class here).

The Wolseley, a darling little room off Picadilly Circus, is the "it" place for a proper tea in London.  Led off with a glass of champagne (well, at least ours did), the warm pot of warm pot of Wolseley blend tea is accompanied by a three tiered tray of finger sandwiches, pastries and scones.  Let's go row by row:

Sandwiches in Britain could have an entire chapter written about them, although it would be a dull one. They certainly do NOT believe in filling.  In fact, it seems the thinner the layering in the sandwich the higher your class level, and THAT I do not get. Paper thin cucumber?  Must be a princess. So, first floor contained five different crustless finger sandwiches - tarragon chicken was tasty.  I ate them all in a matter of minutes.

I'll skip to the top level ... scones.  It was in Cornwall (recall surfing trip here) where I was first introduced to clotted cream.  As far as good things go, this stuff ranks up there with cheese - and - I - love - cheese. Warm raisin scones with cream and jam along side your tea is a treat.  Add in the silver enamelled serving spoons and this really is all I would have needed for this tea to have been deemed a culinary success.

Yet, there was still the middle tray of petite sweets. Cookies, cakes, strawberry tortes, chocolate eclairs ...  Num num.  I can see why this tea tradition has stuck.

Santorini Sun

Ahh, the Bank Holiday.  Those random days here and there when the UK closes for reasons unbeknownst to me, but provide the perfect excuse for a little adventure.  This trip was devoted to the hunt of sun and sunsets, intermixed with with some delicious Greek food and girl time.

I've been yearning for a trip to the Greek islands for nearly 20 years now. Stories of friends sailing the Mediterranean, exploring foreign lands and foods, wind in their hair ... it was a dream worth holding on to. Finally my day has come. Destination: Santorini.

Our two story accommodation was perched on the side of a towering cliff with breathtaking views of the Caldera Bay, formed by the flooding of a huge volcanic crater thousands of years ago.  Some think Atlantis is underwater there.  Greeted with champagne, followed by Greek salad and an afternoon unwinding by the pool, the service was impeccable.

After viewing the first evening's sunset over an impressive bottle of local red wine and mousaka beyond expectations, the next day we opted to rent a car and drive down to the "Red Beach" at the southern tip of the island.  Santorini is not that large and early in May was pleasantly uncrowded.  After a short hike along side of the red pumice-like cliffs, we were nearly alone on a small black sand beach. Time to get the tan started!  We had a delicious lunch of fresh grilled fish seaside before heading back to clean up and make our way to another town Oia, known for white-washed churches and the best sunsets in the world.

Each morning we started with breakfast on the patio overlooking the vast sea.  Greek yoghurt with fruit and honey.  Yum.  Day two we explored another black sand beach near Perivolos.  This area was a bit more established, with beachside restaurants and sun chairs set up with cushions and straw umbrellas. We lived the rough life, flipping from front to back, alternating between reading books and taking a nap.  That evening, after strolling the numerous jewellery shops we enjoyed a delicious local Greek dinner at Nikolas Taverna in the main town of Thira. Ok, I did try the Ouzo. Not bad!

Day three:  boat trip!  The main excursion off Thira is to the two "burnt islands" in the bay.  They are literally mountains of volcanic rock, and after a boat ride you get to hike around the larger, smelling the sulfuric gas leaving the Earth, and praying that baby doesn't decide to blow.  It was better than it sounds.  Second stop is at the hot springs, which are billed as warm, bubbling sea with healing qualities where you can spread the silt from the water on your skin ... that was not better than it sounds.  The plunge you had to make from the boat into the frigid water was enough to stop your heart!

One of the more story-worthy points of the weekend was the trip back up to town from the port.  The city is perched nearly 400m above sea level. To get down we took a cable car, but on the way up we rode donkeys!  The fleet of Santorini donkeys has been carrying cargo up and down for centuries. All you do is hop on one, they know the route, hold on for dear life, hope they don't fight, and then hop off once you reach the top.  What an experience!!!  The local men running the operation looked straight out of history.  {I'll leave out the part about my friend spraining her ankle coming off a donkey and the experiences with the local clinic}.

Of course there was much more in between - gyros, grape vines growing like wreaths on the ground, conversations with taxi drivers, hikes through villages stacked on top of each other, naked people, stray dogs and cats, new Greek sandals, and the comradery of my girls.  Dream fulfilled.

<< Beautiful slideshow here! >>

It's not a dream ...

I slowly wake to the chiming bells of the Duomo and make my way to a cafe nearby, ordering a machiatto I enjoy standing casually at the counter amidst others doing the same.

I have time, so after the shot I find a sunny seat in front of the cathedral and finish reading the last few pages of a book that's had a hold of me, intermittently lifting my eye to gaze at the varied people strolling by. There are men is sharp shiny suits smoking cigarettes and women in four inch stilettos riding bikes.

After some time, I confidently make my way (without a map) down the winding cobblestone pedestrian ways lined with shops - designer clothing, shoes, and gelatto.  Upon meeting my colleague for lunch in the marble-floored, glass-domed galleria, I flawlessly execute the grab and hold right hand, right then left cheek kiss kiss (gone are the days of the awkward "left first? right first?" head bobs). I have a prosciutto pizza, a glass of Amarone, and the conversation is intellectual and productive.  I'm tan, rested from a recent holiday, and its a good hair day.

I'm starting to get a handle on this. It wasn't a dream, but at moments real life is so good it feels like one.

Eldstorp Säteri

.. translated as Eldstorp Manor, is recorded as the last residence in Sweden of my Great-Grandfather before he emigrated to America.  It is noted as being near a "town" called Askeryd, in the region of Småland.  If you Google Map "Eldstorp, Jönköping County, Sweden", zoom in quite close and look off to the right of the pin you will see a looped driveway with several buildings around it.  That is it.

Both Askeryd and Eldstorp have modern signs on the side of the road, indicating there is something there, but in actuality neither is more than a couple farm houses clustered together.  No Main Street, no grocery store, nothing else really aside from pine trees and lakes ... for miles and miles and miles.

I started doing some basic research last year and found a woman online specializing in tracing emigrants from this area.  I gave her all the details I could come up with and she was successful in tracking down four generations back from my Great Grandfather and also forward to known relatives living in the area still today.  Wow!

Straight through, Eldstorp is about a four hour drive southwest of Stockholm.  We made the most of it, taking the scenic route off the E4 highway along the coast of an enormous misty lake that was dotted with neatly kept red or yellow wood-sided, white-trimmed homes.  The countryside is quite stoic, noticeably lacking the buzz of modern technology and sense of urgency.

Our turning off point, and one of the few actual towns we encountered along the way, was Gränna.  Known as the birthplace of the candy cane (polkagris), it is dotted with candy shops and off course an intoxicating bakery where I also got to tick the box for the open-faced seafood sandwich I had been pining for. Gorgeous!

As we arrived near Askeryd we came upon an old church, which I am still certain is where several of my ancestors are buried.  Off a long dirt road from Askeryd, the Eldstorp Manor itself is quite lovely.  There are several houses together, none of which seemed to have been inhabited at the time, and all appear to be from different eras.  The large yellow house is certainly more modern, but the two red ones on the sides must certainly be over a hundred years old and were likely standing at the time my grandfather was living there. The barns also seemed to be quite old and I sense were also there at the time.

With the patch of birch trees in the back, the stone walls covered in moss, the red heart on the door of the barn, the sun peaking through the clouds, and the weight of the silence, I did feel connected.  And grateful.

Before the day got away from us we got back into the car to head down to our castle for the evening.  Yep, a castle.  I am not kidding when I say, when looking for lodging in the area, the options are slim and the Teleborgs Slott castle near Vaxjo really just seemed like a no-brainer for our night's stay on this epic journey.  It is stunning ... wins the award for best castle I have seen to date (though getting a surprise in the communal bathroom was something we probably could have lived without!).

In the morning we headed off for more adventure.  Not too far away was the home of my Mom's cousin, Jonny Kack.  Disappointingly he was not home when we arrived, but we did speak with a neighbour and exchanged some information about our quest.  Bit of an emotional event ... even the neighbour started to tear up with goosebumps!

From there we toured some of the Swedish crystal shops, smashed the car into a tree stump, visited the historic village of Eksjo for some last minute souvenirs and pastries before starting the long road trip back to the Stockholm airport. Whew.

I am so glad we made this trip.  I may even go back some day.  There is more history to uncover, and despite there being several generations and influences from other cultures in my DNA I still sense the heritage of the Swedish custom in me and my family and it is something I am proud of.

<< Of course a slide show on this one!! >>

First Stop: Stockholm !!

Page 63 of the Household Examination Roll reports that Ernst August Teodor Hansson Jonsson (Hemmansägarson = unmarried man), born 7/12/1873 emigrated from Eldstorp Säteri, Askeryd, Jönköpings län (Småland), Sweden to Nordamerika on 3/7/1896.  How he ended up in Blackberry Township, Illinois, USA is still to be determined, but lets just say that I graduated High School one hundred and twenty years later within a few miles of there.  



I have a specific admiration for a 23 year old boy who leaves his homeland to pursue the chance of a better life for him and his future family ... quite possibly alone, at great distances on both land and sea, with fear, sadness, and great hope for what awaits.  However, I will save that perspective for the next post.  This one in particular is about his grand daughter, Elaine Carroll Hanson Jones, my mother.


Being of majority Swedish decent and having a particular fondness for her Father, it has been a dream of my Mom to visit our homeland.  Perhaps it sounds a bit strong from a fourth generation American (me) to claim to still feel roots, especially without any sort of obvious Swedish heritage in my upbringing.  However, I do, and after being there I certainly know better why. Certainly for my Mother, this was a journey of epic proportions.

This year said grand daughter flipped a significant birthday and with my current proximity to Sweden it seemed a very reasonable suggestion we should visit.  Done and done.  We shall start in Stockholm for two days and follow through with a road trip down south to find the origin of our modern family afterwards.


So here we go!  A flight to Stockholm, a booking in an antique furnished hotel in the old city (Gamla Stan), and 48 hours to see what we can see there.  The Gamla Stan island is a small but saturated piece of historic Stockholm.  As soon as we got in, we started zig-zaging the streets, browsing all the trinket shops, scenic coastalways, and lucked our way into a lunch of delightful Swedish meatballs ... how do we still feel comfort food from third generation relatives?  Not sure, but we do, as we also prioritized that meatballs with gravy and mash must also be our dinner for the last night in the city.

Dinners, bonding, cinnamon rolls, knitting shops (with an apple green Gotland wool skein I shall post about in the future), trolls, horsies, walks down scary dark alleys, pastries, jewellery shopping, paper shop hunting, blue plates  ... it was how it was supposed to be ... and oh wait, I can't close without mentioning the food market. 

Because I like what I like and what I like just happens to be food, there was an amazing food market in the Stockholm that we made a morning of.  Was quite delightful for me ... we braved the metro and I managed to get in a few salmon rolls, eyeball the lingonberry jams, and appreciate the reindeer meat sausages (yep!).

Stockholm ... a good portion was covered, but only a teaser into understanding our heritage ...  more to come ... until next post.
 

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Ayurveda

While browsing in my favourite book store, Daunt Books, I came across this book "Eat Right for Your Body Type".  A quick flipping through registered home for me.  The author is downright beautiful, so I picked it up to read about its theories in more detail.

The basic principle (founded from ancient Eastern thinking call Ayurveda) is that there are three distinct life energies.  We all possess some of each, but most will favour one more strongly.  Based on the one you favour, there are dietary recommendations to keep your systems in balance and keep you in good health.

All in all, this is an advanced holistic approach to wellness.  I did some quick independent research online regarding Ayurvedic medicine, and it is quite interesting to me.  Fundamentally, what we eat ultimately effects everything in our body ... if you are eating what is good for you, digesting it thoroughly, you will avoid premature health problems and be the best you today.

The book offers up a questionnaire to help you figure out your "dosha" based on your physical structure, personality traits, and bodily functions.  I am what they call "Kapha" and without getting too into the doctrine means that I tend to have a slower metabolism and would benefit from more spice (well, it is not quite that simple).  Of course there is the avoid meat, saturated fats, and processed carb mantra to go along with it.

I decided to give it a shot.  The book provides a menu for a week along with all the recipes, so off I went to go shopping.  It has been fun getting ingredients I typically would not buy like cardamom pods, rice milk, nigella seeds, and tofu.

There is a recipe for spiced tea that is delicious, and I am advised to sip on it throughout the day.  I also found it quite interesting they suggest I start the day with a hot cup of water with a lemon in it to get my system ready for business.  I had thought I would always prefer a cold glass of water, but I am kind of liking this warm water business ... it is still chilly here though.

Anyway, breakfast, lunch, and dinner for five days I stuck to it.  No cow milk (dairy is only to be taken in infrequent doses, as it increases mucus and allergies), bread, red meat, cheese, etc. for a week - mostly vegetables and grains and fun spices.

I actually really enjoyed it.  I got to try some new recipes, was not hungry ... and bam! I lost four pounds. I already planned out and bought for week two!

Drought

Upon considering my move to London, one thing I certainly did not expect to see was this sign.  Repeatedly, when talking through the pros and cons of living in the 'ole Blighty, the persistent, dreadful drizzle was top of the con list. Yet, indeed, Southeast England is in a drought, and has been for the last two years.

Knock on wood, I haven't needed an umbrella in months.  March was the warmest on record, ever.  There have been strings of days with blue skies and bright sun, skipping to get the morning coffee without a jacket, and pubs full of afternoon tipplers.  Glorious!

It is hard to not see this as a wonderful twist of fate, however there is this looming massive event taking place in the city in a couple months in which the demand for water is expected to be quite high.  You know, a little sporting event called the Olympics.

The press routinely discusses water bans, conservation, and "what if" scenarios in order to prepare us for the start of August.  Now, this American has seen my share of panicked water hoarding events - pre-hurricane / pre-end of world apocalypse - so I suppose I should get ahead of the crowd and start stocking up my Evian now ...

... or, prehaps the more likely event is it will rain non-stop from now through the summer straight to the end of the Olympics.  Boo.

Shakespeare's Stratford-Upon-Avon

Roadtrip!  My Mom has been in town, and our first adventure was to Stratford-Upon-Avon, the birthplace of William Shakespeare, less than two hours via train through the English countryside Northwest of London.


Well-preserved English towns are a delight with their black and white timbered inns, stone cathedrals, and bubbling streams full of swans.  We spent the day admiring fresh vegetables and plants at the farmer's market, weaving through the quaint streets browsing shops, lunch at the pub, and a stroll along the waterfront.


Stratford (upon the Avon river) is best known today as the birthplace of William Shakespeare, and several of his family homes are still in good condition throughout town.  Though Shakespeare left Stratford to live in London for the majority of his adult life, he was baptised and buried at the alter of the Stratford church surrounded by towering, jewel-toned windows.

I do not claim to be an aficionado of Shakespeare, nor even capable of naming more than five of his plays (hmm, let's see ... Hamlet, Romeo & Juliet, MacBeth ... drawing a blank ... wait, Othello ... Midsommer Night's Dream ... ).  

However, I do concur that he is deserving of the title "Best Playwright of All Time", enjoyed the plays of his I did read/see, and concluded he was worthy of buying a stuffed Christmas tree ornament in his likeness as a souvenir.

Though one of the most well known, I leave you with one of my favourite Shakespearean quotes (aside of course from "Et tu Brute?" ... ooh, one more ... Julius Caesar ! )

"This above all,—to thine own self be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man."
~ Mel Gibson, 1990

NHS: Just pick it off

While visiting the NHS (Britain's National Health Services), I happened to have this conversation on my way out from the Dr. visit:

Me:  Oh, one more thing.  I have this mole on the shoulder and I think my bag has iritated it.  It hurts a bit and seems weird. Can you take a look at it?
Doc:  Hm, let me take a look.  Oh, that is not a mole.  That is a skin tag.  I know it is brown like a mole, but it is not a mole.
Me {raised brow}:  Really?
Doc:  Yes, nothing to worry about.  They are benign.  You can just pick it off.
{easily 30 seconds of silence as I processes this information, most likely with one squinty eye}
Doc:  Well, I mean I can send you to a specialist and he can shave it off for you, but that may scar.  Generally we tell people to pick them off with their fingernail.
{more silence ... my mouth may have been hanging open, probably two squinty eyes}
Me:  Did you say "pick it off"?
Doc:  Yeah, it may take a while and may bleed a bit since that's a big one.
Doc{after settling in that I as a foreigner may not be accustomed to this more cost effective solution}: Or, if that bothers you I guess you could go to the specialist.
Me:  Um, no.  Thanks.  I guess I'll see how it goes.

What???  Really???  The pros and cons of social medicine.  Free advice.

Paris ... Growing on Me

So, this may seem bizarre, but Paris just hasn't knocked my socks off.  Of course I did love my first visit (accounted here), but I think it has more to do with the huge build up this city gets, billed as one of the best in the world, endless romance, the place everyone dreams of going.

You know, things just have a tendency to slightly disappoint when they are hyped up too much ... because honestly, had someone come at me from the start with this ho-hum opinion I am offering up, I surely would be telling you right now that Paris is the most amazing city in the world.  It's growing on me.

I had the great fortune of visiting twice in March for business.  Just a two hour train ride from London, it really is quite luxurious.  The first visit was a quick in/out and I barely escaped the tacky hotel to grab one quick, but perfectly buttery, croissant early one morning (though I could see the Eiffel Tower from my room so not all bad).

For the second, I assured I gave myself a few hours in the afternoon to do some walking around, and booked my own darling boutique hotel on the beautiful Île Saint-Louis (one of the two islands in the Seine river - the other holds the Notre Dame Map here).  I decided to get off the metro a few stops early and talk my time walking the remainder of the way.

I really didn't cover much ground, but weaved in and out of small streets just north of the river, and it was so cute!  Interesting shops, cafes, a lucky find farmers market ... all just so French!  I think it also helped that it is Spring ... on the sunny warm day the city felt more alive.  My first two trips were in the bitter cold of winter.

Hungry, but not wanting to ruin my appetite for the pending dinner to come (see asparagus) I decided to go true Parisian style and grab a baguette from the boulangerie and a delicious gooey, stinky cheese from the fromagerie and tear into it sitting beside the river.  Quite the afternoon!

Paris ... looking forward to my next trip!

Meu Rei ("My King")

Nearly sixteen years of my life, almost half, I have spent with one dear soul nearby.  He was so tolerant - man, I am not easy to live with.  First moving in with me when I started college, his only task was to keep me company through the scary, yet exhilarating time of living on my own ... we were eating much cheaper food then.

At the local shelter near my Mom's house, I first had my eyes set on an orange long hair, but he ended up being a maniac and Kitty was just sitting there, so chill, taking it all in.  If you didn't fall for him at the sight of his royal coat, once you had this boy lounging in your arms, paws dangling, he was irresistible.  He was chill from the day he was born to the moment he left today, always an old soul and always purring with contentment.

I like that he is a Maine Coon ... the breed in years past found on the docks of fishing piers in New England, eating at the random fish bits they could find with - what I always envision as - bits of ice hanging off their coats.  He was a fanatic of fish (well any meat really) and the thick coat of hair certainly would have kept him quite warm despite being cold and wet.  In London he even seemed to enjoy sitting on the wet stone in the garden in the drizzle.

For certain I will miss my dear friend deeply and always be so appreciative of how we cuddled with me in the morning and took my stress away, sat just far enough away when I needed space, waited patiently for my return from my sometimes long trips away, and came out to delight my guests with his beauty and might.  King Kitty. Nothing but naps in the warm sun, chasing birds, and sushi for you now.

Boris Biking

The weather in London has been so delightful.  Spring has been peaking its head around the corner, providing bouts of warm weather that make the masses clamour for something outdoorsy to do.

Parks are crammed with those lounging about in the sun, and because it is still quite chilly in the shade, people move in masses across the grass to remain in the sun spot.

It was the perfect weekend to attempt the "Boris Bike".  Though technically sponsored by Barclay's, the London city bike hire scheme was the named after Mayor Boris Johnson (and there have been some not so flattering photos of him cruising town on them).

Quite simple really, you pop in your debit card, push some buttons, and boom you have a bike.  There are over 400 stands around town, and an iPhone app makes it quite easy to find your nearest.

Traffic in London is quite brutal, so during this virgin journey I opted to stay on the path along the canal and major parkways.  Lesson learned - human traffic is also quite brutal in London on a nice day.  Nonetheless, it was a fun cruise, you can get across town quite quickly, and a pleasant way to enjoy an early Spring afternoon.