A Tour Along the Thames

Tonight, I met a girl from my hometown in New York who had come over to study in London for a year. I'll call her C. She was about the same height as me and wore a burnt sienna coloured coat that tied around her waist. Her hair was tied back. She's homesick. Very homesick.
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Her residence here is like a jail, she told me. Her flatmates call their dining room the Interrogation Room because it just has some rickety old wooden furniture and a single lightbulb that hangs from a wire.
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We walked under the tunnel toward the old fortress, the Tower of London, then down the path a ways to the stairs that led up to Tower Bridge. The River Thames flowed slowly beneath the bridge that 40,000 people cross every day. Darkness spread across the sky already, but the stars were hidden in the clouds of city smog.
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Making our way to London Bridge, C told me about her boyfriend E who I know from home, stories about her family, and how she can't believe what she has gotten herself into. Culture shock. I told her it will get better and to hang in there.
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Walking into London Bridge station, I drooled over the Pure Pie stand as we passed seeking out salad for C. Then I got my pure pie. A haddock pie with mash and gravy and peas. Nummy. We carried our containers back through the tunnel that smelled of sour mildew and underground, back into the chill of the London evening. People rushed by in black suits, stood on street corners outside pubs smoking the cigarettes that are now banned on the inside. Everyone was in their own little world.
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C asked me about which areas to avoid at night as we followed the alleyways back toward the river. I pointed to the glowing purple top of the power station that was transformed into the famous art gallery, Tate Modern. She's an architecture student so she appreciates these things more than most.
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Her first experience with buskers was when we passed under one of the bridges near Tate Modern and two drunken tramps were singing in screechy tones with cigarettes dangling from their lips. One was strumming a guitar that was badly in need of tuning.
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But when we passed under Blackfriars Bridge, my favourite bridge in London, we were welcomed by the beautiful rich tones of a cello, a melody that echoed smoothly through the tunnel. It was played by a man in a tuxedo, his eyes closed, the back of his coat flapping gently in the breeze.
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Strolling along the river, we passed the round white and black Shakespeare's Globe Theatre, the National Theatre and the Royal Festival Hall. To the right, the river flowed opposite our trail and on the bank where we walked, I pointed out the skateboarder's graffiti-covered area and the South Bank Book Market that was only marked by a sign attached to the river wall. She loves books as much as I do and I'm sure she will be back.
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Ahead of us glowed the bubbles of the London Eye that peak at 443 feet above the river. It appeared still as it always does, but as we approached we could see it moving round at a snail's pace, 10 inches per second so it takes a total of half an hour to rotate around once.
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To our left were rows of trees lit up with blue and white bulbs and street performers lined the south bank. As we walked, I remembered the many days and nights I spent on the south bank three years ago, when I worked for Fleet Street Publications with an office on the seventh floor of the Sea Containers House overlooking the river.
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The south bank at night, the lights stretching the length of the Thames, the laughter that bounces on the wind carried over from tour boats, the sweet songs of the street artists, the skateboarder's little graffiti-covered world and the book market, the unique structure of the Millennium bridge... This was where I first fell in love with London. It seemed so grand, so important, so full of life and culture. I felt a shiver through my shoulders and pulled my jacket tighter against the breeze. I shook myself back into the moment.
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C loved the rounded structure of the Saatchi Gallery and the Aquarium. I showed her Namco Station, the little arcade where T and I used to play on the bumper cars and lose money in the 2p games.
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When the Houses of Parliament and the glowing clock tower that houses Big Ben came into view, she gasped and stopped to stare for a minute. I smiled and said, “Now there's some architecture for ya, eh?” “Very gothic,” she said. “It's gorgeous!”
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We walked toward the architectural masterpiece, over Westminster Bridge, back to the north bank. I pointed out Brian Haw's peace protest camp in Parliament Square that has been going on for the past six years, and Westminster Abby beyond that.
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We turned right and headed away from all of that down toward the gates of Downing Street where guards stood to protect the residence of cabinet members and Prime Minister Gordon Brown in the infamous number 10.
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At the end of the road lay Trafalgar Square. I tried to explain the appeal of the lions that guard Nelson's Column and the pretty fountains. C liked the idea of the National Gallery. I led her past some cheesy tourist shops with double decker bus ornaments and Big Ben teapots in the windows, through some winding streets. I showed her the sprawling arcade of Trocrdero and Amora, the Academy of Sex and Relationships. We continued to the famous advertising lights of Piccadilly Circus. I've always found them quite tacky, even though they are mesmerising, and she agreed.
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From here it was either toward Oxford Street or Soho. I ruled out Soho for the moment and we carried on past the closed shops on Regent's Street. Naturally, I pointed out Lush and told her she must indulge when she can. However, she's here for a year with no job racking up a debt of American dollars to her parents. Everything, therefore, will be paid for doubly, and I doubt too much indulging will be taking place.
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Carnaby Street stretched to our right and I told her about the shops that way and Ain't Nothin' But... the blue's bar on Kingly Street. And then there was the glory that is Oxford Circus, and being that Top Shop was still open at 9:30, we went inside. Her eyes popped at the sight of all the bags and jewellery and coloured tights on the first floor, the collections of sparkly tops and underwear on the second and the rows and rows and rows of shoes and cheap designer clothes on the bottom floor.
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We wandered down to Tottenham Court Road area and, at 10, we figured out where she needed to go to get home. I taught her how to use the bus here and then walked back to Oxford Circus and hopped on the Bakerloo line with my book, secretly proud of myself for learning the streets of this city well enough to walk confidently from Tower Hill to Oxford Circus without thinking twice about directions. When I first came here, I was tube-obsessed and didn't realize how close the stops really are. And I knew I could easily walk furthur on to Baker Street from Oxford Circus.
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I toook a cab from Queen's Park and was greeted by a jolly old African driver who came from Eritrea, a little country in East Africa between Sudan and Ethiopia. He had velvet skin and big animated hands that waved about as he told me stories of his travels, his trips home, his sons and his family. He got a kick out of a trip to America. He kept going on about how big everything is and chuckling. He seemed so happy.
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The smile he flashed me, exposing an even row of white teeth, one gold toward the back, as I handed him my £6 stuck with me. It was contagious and as I slipped past one of my flatmates who was lazing on the couch in the lounge watching Dallas, he said, “What are you smiling about?”

I shrugged and went to the kitchen to wash some raspberries. I coated them with sugar and went to join him and tell him all about our adventures.

NW3Hampstead

I was quite happy for a change in scenery when I was asked to attend the first NW3Hampstead meeting. It was a bit like a Student Association meeting, only with older people in more sparkly outfits with different concerns. And plush pink velvet seats as it was held at Everyman Theatre. Not to mention little cocktail sandwiches and lemon water with ice. Plus 20 minutes of socializing before anything got started.
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I signed my name in the pretty guest book and sat down next to a few girls from a Hampstead theatre who looked my age. One was a press officer and the other was in marketing so we got to chatting.
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This is my first official meeting in London. Not on a topic that particularly interests me other than for the fact that I work in Hampstead two days a month. But it was a welcome change from the office and a chance to meet some interesting people.
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The main topics of concern were rent and parking. Surprised? Neither was I. Money money money. The world revolves around the stuff. Someone suggested a tram or a bus to combat the commute up hill and others liked the idea of a traffic free Saturday afternoon where they close off the high streets once a month and bring back the village feel.
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Seems this village feel was a big thing before my time and it's now completely changed to welcome what one person called a slew of dull restaurants and chain shops that are starting to resemble (gasp!) Bluewater...
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But when the now empty used-to-be aquarium shop on the corner is renting for £35,000 a year, who's going to move in there? Not small traders and local businesses. Nope, it's going to be more of the big boys- the mobile phone shops and the estate agents.
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There were some estate agents at the meeting, in fact. And some lawyers and bankers and a fancy author broadcaster guy from Marylebone who grew up in Hampstead and says it's gone to pot. It looks... common. He suggested everyone take a cue from Marylebone. Which I will say I agree with. If I could live anywhere in London and cost was no concern, Marylebone would make my top three. The shops are much more unique, the pubs are more authentic, and the walk is just as nice as Hampstead. Marylebone has Regent's Park, Hampstead has the Heath.
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Some local residents and small business owners were there, but they voiced their opinions less often. The ones who did were well into their 60s or early 70s, but then most of the crowd was at least 50. I was easily the youngest by a landslide. Besides the two girls next to me who I bet were in their late 20s. It was a Hampstead crew though, sparkly jewellery, fancy suits, all white faces. Money money money.
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I think it's a great idea to have a community group, to make an effort to change the way they live and bring more business to the area. They tossed around some interesting debates and ideas that could take shape over time as the meetings progress. With more voices speaking as one, the council is more likely to take their opinions into account. My only question is, why is this only starting in 2007?

Reading Recap

It has been ages since I've written here, but I've been on a holiday of sorts. I also experienced a glorious 4 days at my first Reading Festival. Admittedly, I enjoyed Isle of Wight Festival in June a bit more because it was more chilled out and there were fewer kids with attitude, but Reading certainly has its perks.

For one, Smashing Pumpkins played. They have been my obsession since I was about 11 years old and for the first time, I got to see them live, even though they are not completely the original band. Three people from front and centre, I found myself swept a few metres to the side without even touching the ground, then elbowed in the face, then squashed up against the armpit of the man in front of me. Bruised and sweaty at the end, I came away satisfied and in a Billy Corgan influenced bubble of happiness.

The rest of the weekend, we ate Ribena ice lollies, saw Beth Ditto strip to her skinnies, danced to CSS, rocked out to Albert Hammond Jr and The Enemy and chilled in the grass while The Shins and Arcade Fire played. The line up wasn't the greatest in the world besides the Pumpkins in my opinion. There were a lot of bands I liked, but not a lot I loved. The alternative tent did bring a few new discoveries like Jeremy Warmsley who had on-stage makings of music videos that they played on screens to the side.

The food was expensive but tasty. The weather was gorgeous. The company was excellent.

After five days sleeping in a tent with gas canisters exploding around me and no shower, I was happy to be home.

And now that I've been paid, I will be back to exploring this fabulous city shortly. But for the moment, it's back to work...

Amora: The Academy of Sex and Relationships

Written for an application for travel freelancing as a sample:

After a mesmerising look at the infamous Piccadilly lights above the London crowds and a few rounds of air hockey at the Trocadero across the road, why not pop next door for a visit to London's first academy of sex and relationships, Amora?

For £10, take a trip through the red-walled rooms and explore interactive exhibitions as the moans of orgasm seep through the surround sound. Learn your lover's hot spots, how to push your own buttons and the desired intensity of a spanking. One wall boasts a collection of 84 plaster cast genitals and breasts of every shape, size and variety. Across the way, explore a selection of sex toys. From there, move into the Amorgasm Tunnel, a walk through the stages of orgasm from the arousal to plateau, the explosion of ecstasy and finally, relaxation, all featured on TV screens. Next up: bondage. At the end, you will find yourself in a bar with aphrodisiac drinks and a myriad of books about sex and foreplay. Before you exit, there is, of course, the inevitable store filled with products and toys for all your sensual needs.

The downside? The educational parts can feel a bit like health class. There are pictures of STD's and a lot of heavy information to read on the walls, supplemented by an audio guide. The atmosphere feels a bit too bright and with other people walking around, you need to be comfortable being trapped in a little vacuum of all-things-sex with random strangers.

For the tutorials on how to find the g-spot and the prostate and other handy tips, I give it an 8/10. Did you know that when a male eats pineapple or cinnamon, his cum will taste better? Asparagus has the opposite effect.

Enough with the tourist spots; now the only thing you'll be looking for is the perfect little romantic hotel to test out all the little tricks you'll learn, like how to perform a striptease for your lover...

Exhibitions

Being a huge city, London has the advantage of being able to house a lot of unusual or very specific exhibitions. Because of that, it's easy to find something for everyone. Here are a few that might amuse me.

London Exhibitions: Five to check out this week

1.) Htein Lin: Burma Inside Out
Produced while Lin was captive of the Burmese/Myanmar military government, these works will be on display for the first time in the UK. They are both abstract and figurative, ranging in subject from prison life to Buddhism. He painted on white prison uniforms using soap as paint and his fingers as a brush, among other tools. There, he finished over 230 different works.
When: 27 July – 13 October; Monday – Saturday 10am - 6pm
Where: Asia House, 63 Cavendish St. W1
Admission: £2.00
Website: www.rsf.org/article.php3?id_article=23101

2.) Daily Encounters: Photographs from Fleet Street
In the 80’s, Fleet Street was a booming area of London famous for its newspaper offices and pubs frequented by journalists and photographers. Fleet Street newspapers released loads of press photographs ranging from politicians and events to actors and models. A selection of these will be on display along side photos of the newspaper industry itself. Over 75 works will be shown.
When: 5 July – 21 October
Where: National Portrait Gallery, St. Martin's Place, WC2H
Admission: £5.00
Website: http://www.npg.org.uk/live/wodailyencounters.asp

3.) Chris Moffat: Experimental Photography and Design 1923-1935
An art student of New York (where he was born) and Paris, Moffat moved to London in the mid 1920’s where he opened an interior design company and his own gallery. His photographs of society figures were praised for his innovative use of colour. The portfolio donated to this collection contains over 1,000 works.
When: 2 August – 13 January
Where: Photography Gallery, 38A. V&A South Kensington, Cromwell Rd, SW7
Admission: Free
Website: http://www.londonlantern.com/articles/default.asp?snID=&cssType=0&Issue=200708&Area=0&TRCday=0&ID=828

4.) Keeping Time
We all remember puberty: that awkward time of sexual exploration, timidity, crossing the line into adulthood, growing into our skin, so to speak. While the focus of this exhibition is on female ice skaters, it explores the challenges they face while they are going through adolescence. The pictures are symbolic of femininity and facing approaching adulthood in a period of high self-awareness and wavering confidence.
When: Now until 22 Septemer, Monday-Saturday, 10am – 10pm, Sunday 3-9pm
Where: Tricycle Gallery, 269 Kilburn High Road, NW6
Admission: Free
Website: http://www.londonlantern.com/articles/default.asp?snID=&cssType=0&Issue=200708&Area=0&TRCday=0&ID=830

5.) Helmand: The Soldier's Story
Created by soldiers of 16 Air Assault Brigade, Helmand is a story in exhibition form, told by real soldiers who have experienced the war in Afghanistan. Real letters from home are on display alongside uniforms and bedding with mosquito nets. Film recordings of real soldiers, both living and dead, were made during battle and eerily place the viewer in their boots.
When: From 3 August; Daily 10am – 5:30pm
Where: National Army Museum, Royal Hospital Road, SW3
Admission: Free
Website: www.24hourmuseum.org.uk/exh_gfx_en/ART49607.html