Freeeeedom! uh, I mean Liberty!

So, as I really should be writing my final paper of the term, and not blogging, this will be short and sweet (and mostly pictures)! Oscar Wilde said "Liberty is the chosen resort of the artistic shopper" I would have to agree! It has everything from Gucci clothes to ribbons, yarn and a fake stuffed reindeer head! And while the fabulous Christmas decor is really only there to increase the daily quid intake it does add to the festive mood while browsing each floor.

The London Hat Kanundrum

Just a short little blog (including some pictures of a few amazing hats!)

So the London hat kanundrum is simply this -

The weather in England is very hat wearer friendly. It's cold and rainy and generally has weather that does not suit un-hatted hair. You add to that numerous wonderful millinery shops throughout greater London and it should equal hats on heads on every street corner!

...but it doesn't!? I'd say that in sunny balmy LA (where by all reason, free flowing locks should rule) there are more (by a landslide) hats per capita (on the capite!)... and that, I say is the London hat kanundrum.

And now the studying beckons and I must answer to show that this head is not just a hatrack!

Baby it's cold outside... (Frieze-ing in the park)

A bright and chilly Saturday afternoon(though I wouldn't say freezing!) two mates from Uni and I decided to check out the free Frieze Art Fair in Regents park. It was all a bit surreal...

...some statuesque figures with certain parts of their face seemingly blasted out or ripped away...

...a path meandering through some fake flowers (that seemed to have the consistency of mushrooms?!)

...and then a pair of giant eggs which were my favorite. (outlandishly oversized objects are always fun, right?!)

We continued to wander up into the park to take in the rest of the show. After a short conversation with a security guard from south London (or maybe it was east, I seem to get those two confused from time to time)we discovered that we needed to go back down to the bottom of the park to see the rest of the show. A little stroll through golden leafy lanes and we were back (almost) where we started, only to discover that to get into the "real" Frieze show you had to shell out 25 quid?!!! (well, 15 for students, but still!!)As one young arty type so aptly sold it to us ..."Would you like to see some overpriced pretentious art?" Fair enough! To which we answered a resounding NO and headed off in search of a much more reasonably priced coffee!

My last snap is of Kirsty's "Bicycle GPS" which never fails to amuse me! Quite effective...unless it decides to rain!

Sunny Sundays (= long walks!)

One of the lovely things about London is, no matter how big it can seem at times, most things are just a walk away. When the stars align and a sunny day falls on a Sunday, it's the perfect time to take a wander...

Heading south through Chinatown...bright lanterns swing above and glistening rows of roasted ducks (head and all!) hang in the windows...

Following the sun I find myself popping out of the narrow streets and into a luminous green garden at Embankment on the north side of the river. Families and friends crowd the little cafe, all making the most of the splendid crisp air...

Dodging traffic and continuing on my way, I pass a plein air painter making the most of the weather and the light on the Thames and the Houses of Parliament...

The Southbank bustles with vendors, booksellers and customers, all wiling away the afternoon with bits and bobs and creased book spines...Further on, my destination, a friend and more open air browsing. Two fresh faced Londoners discovering the city for themselves. Turning up surprises around corners, delights just waiting to be found.

Conker Season

One of the lovely things about being in London is a real and proper fall. The weather turns, the leaves start to fall and conkers arrive! Conkers?! What are conkers?! Well conkers are actually horse-chestnuts, or rather a game that all children in the British Isles grew up playing called conkers. It's a fairly simple game with two players. Each player finds a chestnut and ties it to a bit of string. Then the players square off and smack the hell out of each other's chestnuts 'til one of them breaks...and thus the player with the surviving chestnut becomes the reigning conker-er!

The path pictured above is part of my walk to Uni. It is a veritable conker ally.

For me chestnuts always bring up childhood memories of Vienna. There, chestnuts or konkers are known as Kastanien or if they are the edible kind of chestnut (you know the ones we sing about at Christmas time) they are known as Maroni. I use to love picking up the glossy shiny (shiny in a very earthy not plasticy way) chestnuts on my walk to kindergarten with my dad through the Schönbrunn Palace gardens and I can still hear the street vendors shouting "heisse Maroni!!" (hot roasted chestnuts!)

Ah fall...I have missed you...

I couldn't resist getting up close and personal.

West End Girl (for the moment at least!)

I really should have titled this Art in Derelict Spaces. However, since I will, for one month only, be a West End girl I figured I may as well use the title while I can! :-)

Art in derelict spaces refers to the beginning of my weekend. A boy, whom I have never met, though exchanged pleasantries with on Facebook, invited me to check out a theater (or rather I should say theatre) or really more a theatrical/performance art event taking place in an abandon building in the West End. Since I haven't as of yet established a tribe of friends here in London, being at loose ends on a Friday evening I thought I'd check it out....the fact that said boy was going to be in pants (that's underwear in American) and was rather cute was just a bonus!

So armed with a map in my head and dressed in my pinstripe fire pants (and I mean American pants this time, not British pants...oh the pants are making this all confusing!...typical) I headed out into the West End to check out the event. After one slightly wrong turn I managed to find the place, only to find it was 7 quid to get in and then money to "tip" the various events. Back out the door to find a cash point (aka ATM)...at this point I began to question the point of my quest! Why was I going out? To an event with potentially awkward situations, involving odd avante garde theater occurring in front of an audience of two? (where I would be #2) Without a wingman? Solo? ...but I said to myself, "right, Heidi! Don't be a mouse, what's the worst that could happen?!!" (and I didn't allow myself to answer that question)

Cash in hand and back through the door...I wandered down a few hallways searching for something to see...closed doors and theater in progress. At one door they asked if I wanted to play a game. "What kind of game?" I asked cagily. The reply was suitably vague...in for a penny...

The night unfolded in vignettes. The "game" was...confusing, but amusing. The bar area and "live stage" confirmed my nonexistent-audience fears. The "casino" was typically avante garde. The "puppet poker" was fantasic...but I never found the boy in the pants. All too soon the evening was over and I had hardly seen all there was on offer. A quick chat at the bar with an actor from the "game", then out into the night, into the West End...with the boy in his pants nowhere to be scene or rather seen...maybe he was putting on his pants?!

Venetian mask shopping in South Kensington

I've decided to focus on fun, rather than writing about the many horrible and overpriced bedsits I have view over the last week. So, on Saturday I sent a text to "Sam"* to see if we could meet up for a coffee or a drink. I needed a break from the home search and knew that Sam was always good for a cheery chat.

A couple of texts later and Bob's your uncle...we were on.

A quick change of plans later and I was drafted to help Sam pick out masks and capes for him and his friend to go to an Eyes Wide Shut type of party....hmmmm...

A (somewhat) quick drive through the rabbity roads of London (in Sam's rather posh car) and we were at the most insane costume shop I've ever been to! I so wish I had pictures to share but alas, no camera. The tiny aisles were so jammed with with costumes (all the way up to the ceiling in toppling towers) that it was like you were being attacked by wigs and hats and bags of tarty girl costumes. Are you picturing a big box type store? Well forget that. The aisles went upstairs, then down, around corners and on and on and on! It was totally amazing...and very English.

Lots of banter followed, with me attempting persuade Sam to go for the most wild of the Venetian masks and him (of course) going for the basic black.

...I'm a long way from "Burner" LA...

The afternoon rounded off nicely with a light dinner at a lovely little bistro in South Kensington.

*names changed to protect the not so innocent!

Jet Lag and Taxi Cabs

You always forget how nutty jet lag is. It's as if you've spent a weekend in Vegas unsyncing your body clock to the point where you're just silly tired, at all the wrong times.

On arriving in London, you top off your two flights (and extra long layover) with customs and some baggage wrangling...but then you step out into the crisp (way too early) morning air and a black cab pulls up. Out hops a South London cabbie, who calls you "luv" and proceeds to tell you all about his holiday with "the missus" in Cypress. The Tuesday morning rush hour traffic is slower than cold maple syrup poured through cheesecloth. It's worse than usual. "Strikes on the tube" the cabbie tells you.

You arrive at your street corner destination and pay the man a whopping £80 (roughly $120) while apologizing for the 80p (buck twenty-five) tip...it's all the cash you have. With a cheerful "not to worry luv" he's off and you're on to your first "proper" cuppa (cup of tea). Sleep is only a blissful 14 hours away...

Procrastination 101

I am tired of packing and unpacking and repacking and generally boxing up some areas of my life.

While I sit here, in a forest of boxes, I seem to be walleyed. One eye looking back at what I've left behind and the other looking forward to what lies ahead. I'm beginning to feel it... not homesickness but people-sickness. I miss my lovely LA "family" and while I know I'm on the right path and I will meet new people and extend my London "family"...right now it just kind of sucks :-( So before I go all maudlin on y'all. I'll leave you with my "stolen" goodbye words!

The Parting Glass (High Kings version)

Of all the money that e'er I had,
I spent it in good company.
And all the harm I've ever done,
alas it was to none but me.
And all I've done for want of wit
to mem'ry now I can't recall;
So fill to me the parting glass,
Good night and joy be to you all.

[So] fill to me the parting glass
And drink a health whate’er befalls
And gently rise and softly call
Good night and joy be to you all

Of all the comrades that e'er I had,
They're sorry for my going away.
And all my sweethearts that e'er I had,
They'd wish me one more day to stay.
But since it fell unto my lot,
That I should rise and you should not,
I gently rise and softly call,
Good night and joy be to you all.

Fill to me the parting glass
And drink a health whate’er befalls
And gently rise and softly call
Good night and joy be to you all!

Slainte!!! to you all! xx

A Beginning...

A new blank blog is a bit like a blank canvas, and since I usually tone my canvases before I start to work, perhaps...perhaps I should do the same here...

In an ideal world I would set out to write about something relevant, pertinent and coherent! I doubt I will ever hit that trifecta, but we'll see...

I am in the midst of packing boxes and as I am not just moving across town, but rather across the pond (Atlantic) I have to put some extra thought into this.

What should I toss? (more than I will, pack rat that I am!)

What should I store? (clothes that I will only toss out two years later?!)

What should I take with me? (I foresee overweight suitcases at the check-in counter!)

The emotional ramifications of this move are starting to seep in as I think about leaving behind my lovely LA family, and I know I will miss them more than I care to think about at this moment... but it is time. Time to move forward... I hear a box calling to be taped up and labeled...