Ep I: Fevered Darjeeling Star Wars
Also known as the the Curious Case of Constantly Open Card Shops
London, March 1st, 2016
So it's my one-year anniversary today with Jennifer. I'm up at 3am in the morning because it takes a while for a soul to reconnect to the body after flying across ten timezones with one stop-over.
First things first - it is not fun to fly whilst ill. My sore throat morphed into a less-than-entertaining fever mid-flight, threatening to choke my sanity in phlegm and snot from seat 67H. As a distraction, I busied myself with Ethiad's lifesaving - no exaggeration - entertainment system.
A marathon run of preteen action, Wes Anderson goodness and box office smash hits later; I'm having fevered dreams of featuring three whimsical brothers reconnecting aboard the Millennium Falcon in a dystopian future where people dress like it's Mardi Gras every day.
Did you ever notice - Adrien Brodie looks like Kyle Ren/Adam Driver?
Jen super-tied hanging out in our cute AirB&B - I'd link but it's no longer available.
So we're in London. It's my first time here and Jennifer hasn't been for over a decade. I'm barely awake, but she's bright eyed and busy tailed; commenting how cute the cabs are; how cute the rounded bums of the buses are; now cute out wonderful host at the AirB&B place we stay at is.
I'm holding on until I can get into bed. Our beloved host serves us a huge pot of tea with shortbread. The only reasoned, appropriate response is:
I recover somewhat; and we go out for coffee. We find a place with an incredible 4.9 star rating on Google, with raving reviews about "fantastic cappuccinos - probably best in London." I set my expectations low; noting my snotty Melbournian heritage. We have coffees. A filter for me. A latte for her. The place looks appropriately hipster-ish - dudes with the side swept quiffs stand in front of hulking metal and wood machines in a tiny store with only small perchy stools to sit on. One of the dudes even has way oversized glasses to accent his hipster creds. Things are looking good.
The filter was pretty decent. My subsequent latte - inconsistent. I'd still recommend it for the desperate - link here - but I think I'll stick to the ubiquitous English Breakfast whilst I'm here.
In Bills, near Angel Station
I love Black Pudding.
It is at this point that I must note my limited knowledge of British Cuisine indicates that it's probably not the key bragging for their nation's pride. And that's okay - there's a lot more things to be proud about.
I'm enthused by the beauty of this first day of spring; walking around the City University London campus with amazingly well dressed people; absorbing British humor and the occasional accent I really cannot understand (the only other English-speaking place that's ever occasionally stumped me was Boston) taking a leisurely stroll across London Bridge and subsequently Clapham Common.
I only have one bone to (nit) pick and that's pronunciation. The English invented the language, but seems to take every opportunity to violate it. Why is 'Something-shire' pronounced something-shirr instead of shy-er? Why is 'Thames' pronounced tems instead of thaym-s? Why is Clapham pronounced clepem instead of Clap-ham?
Try actually pronouncing this word the way it is spelled - worcestershire. How does this collection of letters end up being wusta-sheer? Madness. : )
Super duper sensible. Well done, London.
Unlike my epic Lord of the Rings style sojourn to fruitlessly search for affordable postcards to purchase for Cause Corps in Hong Kong, we had no problem here. In fact, at 8am in the morning, the only things open were dry cleaners are three card/gift stores, all within a 5 minute walk of each other. I'm not sure if this is a local anomaly, or yet another endearing British-ism.
We end the day like we always do with some Cause Corps goodness. Next stop - croissants, baguettes and the sound of accordions.
