I was in England for about a week. I bet you, oh faithful reader, noticed because of the disruption in my otherwise regular update schedule. And then I didn’t post for about an age of Middle Earth, 3rd age reppin…Anyways.
Sup
I don’t really know what to write, to be honest (see figure 2 above). Elias reminded me that I was going to start a Toronto pastry/croissant related blog series, so I have that going for me. It’s going to be called theTORONTO PASTRY TRAIL, or PASTRY TRAIL for short. There are some photos I took earlier this year that I wanted to show off but forgot to post. So without further ado:
Squirrel in the garden
One of a pair of twin cats who visits us
So England. We went to visit my Nan since she moved into a home.
We also took a load of silly photos
We stayed with our cousins, Julie and Steve, who are wonderful and hospitable and and and. I like staying with them because I help Steve walk their dogs, Monty and Cooper. I’d have loads of photos of them, except that I forgot my phone on my bed before we left, so I took most of the pictures with my DSLR.
And also some pics with my mum’s phone. This is me looking impatient at the airport
Using the weird portable toothbrush thing at the airport
Mum and I spent a lot of time clearing out Nan’s flat, and driving back and forth to the home in Oundle. The road is quite pretty.
I can’t remember the name of the village because I suck
A manor house! Mum wanted this shot
A cat on a wall, since cat pics are my life
Sheep, my minor obsession. We just don’t have that many sheep lurking around in Canada.. at least around where I live. Also the lamb looks kinda chubby.
The road at night. Often it felt like the roads were speeding by quickly, since they’re not lit outside of towns.
Kettering cemetery. I like this shot even though the foreground is a bit blurry.
After about a week, I flew back home and realised I forgot my keys in England, a nice bookend cementing my forgetfulness and my frazzled state of mind. Luckily, I managed to get inside eventually. While mum and dad were still away I helped Kate move some stuff in Toronto, a service for which she paid me back in potato pancakes (with sweet potato!) which are delicious and amazing and time consuming to make. I am also really impatient. I thought they were done and they were not. AT ALL. They were so good though.
Peaches and Aggie were also there (obligatory cat pic #340)
Po-ta-to-pan-cakes
Kate also introduced me (a while ago) to the show Bravest Warriors, which you can watch on Youtube, and the new episodes come out on my 3DS too, which is pretty cool.
I also bought the iOS game called “Fly Catbug Fly.” I still have quite a bit left from the iTunes giftcard my mum gave me for Christmas. Fly Catbug Fly is pretty much based on that old helicopter flash game, but with collectables and an adorable cat. It’s actually kind of addictive, but it doesn’t really have a whole lot of depth. Considering that, it is a good phone game. It’s also very cute.
I went to Miranda’s birthday in Mississauga, which she held at Jack Astor’s. I’m not a huge fan of it, to be honest. Chain restaurants aren’t really my thing. I ended up getting a ‘cobb’ salad with chicken ($15!!!), which I didn’t know would be fried and breaded and saucy but that’s fine. Also it was those three pieces of chicken plus a downright shamefully small amount of the other ingredients (cucumber, avocado, egg, cheese) compared with the vast tracts of plain lettuce that dominated the plate. Yes, I admit, I didn’t get the dressing, which could have rectified the situation, but to my knowledge at the time, a Cobb salad is mostly not lettuce. I don’t like dressing on avocado or egg or cheese. Also everyone else at the table was fairly demanding in their modifications so I felt a bit guilty asking for no tomatoes, since I hate raw tomatoes for an irrational and not taste related reason that I can’t really decide upon. I think I almost had an aneurysm asking the waitress to have lime instead of lemon with my cola (I can’t drink at all with my driver’s license at the G2 level, even if I waited 7-8 hours). She forgot the limes, but remembered as soon as she saw my stupid lime-loving face, and went back for them. And she brought me this:
I wasn’t sure what to think about this. Was she so annoyed that she speared the lime slices, or is just how they bring lime?
I ended up driving back pretty late, and I dropped someone off in another part of Mississauga. By this point, it had begun to rain quite hard. Driving on the highway at night when it’s storming is difficult – the lights reflect everywhere and it’s hard to tell if there is indeed someone in your blind spot. People go really fast, too, despite the conditions.
Though to be honest this is how I react to a lot of things
On this past weekend, I attended the Island Sprint race, on the Toronto Islands (NO WAY). I was given the impression that it was an amateur affair, and that me and my city bike with its adorable basket would be welcome. Unfortunately, I was met with a sea of dudes in cycling gear with carbon fibre track bikes. Oops. I had fun, but I wouldn’t do it again. Some guys who were marshalling decided that even though I was almost at the finish line, passing me at high speed and hollering would be the best course of action. Thanks for making me feel bad, dudes. The barbecue after was really good though. I love corn on the cob! It got a bit too cold, though. The wind was biting.
Start of the second men’s heat.
Skyline from the islands
I do really like going to the islands though, and I’m happy to be around this year so I can go and enjoy some lazy summer days there. Picnics! Swimming! Lazing around at the beach! Riding bikes! Watermelon slushies at the cafe at Ward’s!
the best thing ever.
Other than that, I’ve gotten back on track on my thesis and been a bit more productive lately. I haven’t really written lately I guess too because I thought I couldn’t justify spending the time on writing here when I wasn’t writing my thesis, but I guess it’s better to have a balance and do both. More soon, I promise.
I wanted to show you a few pics I took at the Alfred East Gallery (with permission) of my great-great-great uncle (g-g-g uncs). He looks a lot like my uncle, though I don’t have any comparison shot to put up. He was one of the first Westerners to go around Japan. Since (I believe this is so) all of his work in the Gallery is under public ownership, it is available for viewing on the BBC “Your Paintings” website here, though keep in mind that not all of it is Sir Alfred’s.
Mum took some better pics of me beside his bust in the gallery so you can see that we sort of kind of look alike. Maybe. I don’t know.
Other things I wanted to write about – or rather show off are some pictures mum took at the castles and when we went to Milton Keynes with Nan…
Nan has swag
Mum also took two particularly ridiculous photos of me at Kenilworth Castle:’
My head as a crenelation
ugh. at least mum’s in it too, in the top right
The photo above actually has a story behind it. Mum, Nan, and I were leaving Kenilworth Castle, and she spied this little horse standee and said that I should take a photo behind it, neglecting to realise its comical smallness in comparison with my relative bulk, and that there is a large, steep, wet-grass slope behind it leading to my ultimate doom in a field full of cows (and cow shit). However I prevailed, and in fact, our actions encouraged a retinue of German tourists to be tempted to do the same.
p much my reaction, re: ze Germans
I took the train to London from Northampton (and not Wellingborough because it was cheaper or easier or something that I can’t remember). Mum told me she used to drive to the very same station and take the train into London when she was on her course after she and Dad moved out of London – more on this later. I initially had planned on lugging all my stuff to St. Pancras underground (which is a pretty long walk from the East Midlands platforms), and taking the tube about 8-9 stops to Earl’s Court, where I was staying. Then I’d have to walk about 4-5 blocks (maybe about 5 minutes unencumbered, as I discovered). This is why I took a black cab:
Oh man
Also it may shock you to know that the red case weighs approximately 32kg and the blue about 27kg. I was away since April! <_< Technically I’m only over by… 13kg. <_<
Since I ended up spending loads of time with mum on the day I left (which was much needed – we went to Waitroses and I bought some magazines, and then we saw her friend Rachel who lived around Northampton), a lot of the restaurants were closed by the time I thought to venture out to eat. It weirded me out, since for some reason I have the impression restaurants in Toronto are open later. I went to a place called Dragon Palace and ordered a starter and a main, but only had the starter as they were closing and it was massive. It was a sort of crispy sweet duck, that was on the bone – the waitress stripped it all off for me. It came with little pancakes, some sauce, and mixed veg (spring onion and cucumber). They were really good and cost around £6.90 ($11.35).
I spent much of the next three days at the RGS/IBG conference, though I did enjoy most of the talks, the opportunity presented by some of the presenters not being at one of the sessions allowed me to go to the V&A which I enjoyed, though I rushed a little bit so I wouldn’t miss the next session.
Globes at the RGS
A dress at the V&A
Statue at the V&A
Staircase at the V&A
I really loved the staircase – it’s by the café (where I had a delicious ham and emmenthal sandwich – £4.75 ($7.80)). I scurried back for the next session. On another day, I couldn’t find a session that I felt truly passionate (or even weakly) about, so I decided to go to Harrods to buy some tea (I love their first flush Darjeeling and English Afternoon teas). I wandered the Food Hall, which is probably the best part about Harrods (as I can’t afford anything else there). A nice gentleman at the charcuterie counter allowed me to sample as many meats as I’d like. I had three or four types of salami – one fennel salami struck me as particularly nice, and I’d have bought some were I not deathly afraid of the hostel’s shared refrigerator(s). I wandered around and came across a counter with sushi and dim sum, so I tried a single piece of tuna sushi for about £1.50 ($2.50). Verdict: the fridge was too cold so the rice had that weird dry taste that happens when you keep it in the fridge for any length of time. The fish was good though.
The dim sum at Harrods
I also bought a pistachio meringue which was about as big as my face for £2.50 ($4.10).
The inside was soft but pretty nice. It was way too big to eat more than about a quarter of it though. (on the RGS lawn)
After my successful meeting with one of my biggest heroes ever who may want to work with me for my PhD (not naming names) I went and celebrated by eating at Mai Food, probably the nicest Japanese place I’ve been to in a while. I sat at the counter and ate probably way too much.
Entertaining fact: all of these sauces go with different things I ordered, and they’re all mine.
Spicy tuna maki
A duck, a squid, and a pork skewer
Gyoza (pork dumplings)
Green salad – you won’t understand why I got this unless you spent time in a country where eating salad is a pain in the ass because you have to bleach or iodine or acidify your vegetables so you don’t get a horrible gastrointestinal disease causing you to go to the toilet way too much
Takoyaki – pretty good, though to be honest, I like the ones at Manpuku better- they have a special machine imported from Japan, though, so it’s not a fair comparison.
Perhaps Japanese food (of some varieties?) hasn’t become as ubiquitous in London as it is in Toronto, since the owner asked me if I lived in Japan due to my apparently excellent knowledge of Japanese cuisine – I just told her no, I hadn’t, but I really loved their food. I enjoyed eating at Mai Food very much, though I think if you want a table or to ensure you can eat there, you have to get there early, or make a reservation, because it was packed.
The next day I was meeting my Mum at London Bridge station (which I won’t forget also because of Orwell’s writing of it in his hop-picking diary [I’m reading his Diaries right now]), so I thought I’d cycle over using the Boris bikes from Earl’s Court. I made it to Kensington and realised that the stupid machine made you wait 5 minutes between rentals, so I cabbed it to the closest Underground station and bought two day passes (which was useless in the end because Mum wanted to take cabs everywhere because of her hip). Boris bikes also aren’t very fast – I have amazing quads (no brag, I swear), so I get up to speed pretty quickly, but since they only have three gears, you can’t get up to ridiculous speeds very easily.
My feelings on that weird race that happens when approaching stop lights on a bicycle which makes you appear to be a slow, inexperienced cyclist
London Bridge station is really confusing and so Mum and I had some trouble meeting – I got frustrated too quickly and felt bad because Mum got a bit annoyed with me, so I apologised. We took a black cab to the Tate Britain in order to see the Lowry show (we are big fans of Lowry probably due to the Mancunian nature of his work, and I’ve liked his work especially ever since Mum took me to the Salford Centre when I was a youngish teenager). We decided to have a drink before we went in at the charming garden café – we each had tea and a Pimm’s Cup. I found out my brother had gotten married and was very happy for him – I will always associate that café with that event, even if it is thousands of kilometres away. We went inside and bought tickets for both exhibitions which were on – Lowry and another two artists of the 20th century who did modern things, whose names I’ve forgotten because I’m a terrible person. We really enjoyed the Lowry exhibition, though it was a bit crowded and relatively chairless (important for my Mum as she has to sit down every so often because of her hip). I managed to ask a security man for a portable folding stool, which he thankfully found quickly. He was very friendly.
part of London Bridge station
The only time I saw the Houses of Parliament since I didn’t venture there after. (on the way to the Tate Britain)
A hall leading to the Lowry exhibition
A little sketch I liked at the Lowry exhibit (no photos : < )
After the Tate Britain, Mum and I went to the Marks and Spencers at Marble Arch at the end of Oxford Street. We had lunch first, as the cabbie dropped us off around the corner, at a pub. I had a venison and blueberry burger, which wasn’t how I had expected it to be, and Mum had fish and chips. Marks and Spencers was OK, though Mum didn’t quite find anything as perfect as last time she’d be in. We had toasties in the café and went to Primark, since Mum was looking for a carry-on bag, which she didn’t find, though I got a nice huge carry-all purse of holding + 7 (which can hold a ridiculous amount of stuff).
Trying on a ring at Marks and Spencers and generally being a bit ridiculous
The next day, after I went with Mum all the way to Gatwick to drop her off (and back to Earls Court), I did a morning of Sherlock Holmesery. The excitement started at Baker Street Station, which is decorated with Sherlock Holmes themed tiles and ‘advertisements’.
One of the creepier Holmes tales, The Solitary Cyclist (full story). The tiles had the same pattern as the silhoutte
I went to the Sherlock Holmes Museum which is actually at 221B Baker Street, which was moderately disappointing for the price (£8/$13.15). There’s a queue outside but what they don’t tell you (well I was told but saw several others who weren’t) is that you need to first queue inside the shop to buy a ticket. Then you queue outside to be let into the house. The first floor was pretty cool. The house is like a post two up two down – nothing on the ground floor, two on the first, two on the second, two on the third, and a half fourth floor with a pretty interesting looking toilet. The first floor has the Persian slipper, one of my favourite features of the stories (where Holmes keeps tobacco):
The Slipper
Also there is a fireplace and two chairs where you (and a friend though I was alone…) can pretend to be Holmes and Watson with the aid of… hats.
One awkward “canyoupleasetakeaphotoofme?” later, and here I am. Note that the hat wasn’t comically small, just that I had my hair piled on my head in a clip.
The second floor was items from specific cases and little informational items, such as this:
Co-caine
The third floor really freaked me out because it was all terrifying wax figures (hold this thought for a little bit later at the Transport Museum). I did mention a little half floor at the top which I was quite enamoured with,
It had the toilet, and a nice(ish) view. I imagined living there. It would be expensive.
The coolest toilet ever
The view
I went back to Baker Street Station and took the Metropolitan line (the oldest line) to Euston Square to see the house they use to film the Sherlock television series (BBC version). I like the Metropolitan line stations; they’re monumental in some abstract sense, probably due to their age.
The platform at Baker Street Station (Metropolitan line)
So I did end up finding the Sherlock house, as it is literally around the corner from the Underground exit. It’s a weird street, rather quiet for being around the corner from Euston Station.
No awkward asking to have my photograph taken here
Here is a series of silly Sherlock gifs for your entertainment:
I can’t wait for Series 3, but there’s no air date yet. Kate is the best for introducing me to it.
After that, I thought about eating lunch and looking for a cafe, so I biked over to St. Pancras, realising that I was really close to the British Library. I don’t recall ever having been, so I went there first (after spending a decade looking for a bike return station). So I went through into the courtyard, which was nice, and had a café (which was closed). So I found the café in the library and had a sandwich and some tea. I noticed on the way in that they had a Propaganda exhibition on, so I decided to go. I enjoyed it, though it was a bit big. There was so much material, and I spent maybe 2 hours in the exhibition hall.
Thinking about exhibitions and trying to look intellectual eyebrows
After that, I realised it was too late to go to Covent Garden Market and the Transport Museum, so I headed back and hung out with the Scottish guy I’d met at the hostel, Davey, who makes skateparks and also skateboards himself. I forgot his instagram, otherwise I’d share some of his pics. We ate and then were going to go to this afterparty for this skateboarding conference, but we got there too late, and therefore had to go across the street to the pub to meet up with a crowd of entertaining skateboarding people. One of them was already wasted, and he fell asleep and it was hard to wake him up. The lady at the pub did not like our group. We had to leave as it was closing time, and the lady was shooing us out. Ian, one of the other Scottish guys in the hostel, was a bit drunk, and didn’t believe me that I could give him a piggy-back to the hostel. I did, for about 400-500 metres. It was fun walking back to the hostel – I got to ride Ian’s skateboard, and then Davey did some sweet tricks on the road (causing cars to slow down or swerve around). Ian bought me a Daim chocolate bar due to his belief I’d never tried one – after opening it, I’d realised I had, since they sell them at IKEA here. I felt a bit bad because I realised that I was always the last to bed in my hostel room (of four women). I was very quiet and didn’t turn on the light, but I still felt awkward.
The next day I went to Picadilly Circus and walked through Leicester Square to Covent Garden Market. There I bought a proper butter knife and an old Soviet pin for “hard work” – the translation netted me a discount, so I only paid £4 ($6.60) for it. I wandered around and decided to eat lunch before I went to the Transport Museum, which is on one corner of the square. I went to a decidedly overpriced and crap restaurant with pretensions, whose name I’ve even forgotten, by virtue of its “half price” special. I had a Caesar salad with chicken that tasted burnt, paid my £6 ($9.90) and left. The tone was set for the afternoon. The Transport Museum refused to honour my English Heritage membership, because I apparently needed an additional person to save 50% off the price. The entry for students was £11.50 ($18.95), the most expensive museum entry I’d paid in England.
Luckily, I learned the cost of an annual pass to the Transport Museum was the same price. So I insisted. And got it. This is a museum that you probably only want to go to once. Maybe it’s better with other people, since it does contain terrifying wax figures.
oh god why
Though it did have a cool posters exhibition, it cost extra, so I didn’t go. I just stared longingly at the tantalising “sneak peek”
old deck
It was a bit weird too seeing the old buses and trains and that because I imagined (again) my parents riding on them when they were still in service.
After spending a bit too much time in the museum, I headed towards Trafalgar Square, where one of the super helpful London tourism officials took a photo and reminded me of my Mum, mostly because of the thumb in the top left:
It was nice because I got to reminisce about being on the Square as a child – you used to be able to feed the pigeons, and my new friend hilariously said that I must be older than he thought, as it was banned a long time ago. He suggested I go see Soho and Chinatown by taking a detour through the National Gallery (behind me in the photograph). So I did. The National Gallery is the best. I bought a guidebook which had ten tours in it, so I did one or two of them. I left through a weird untrafficked exit and found Chinatown. I had bubble tea (my first in ages) that was only okay (and twice the price as it is in Toronto). I also bought Chinese buns and ate them later for supper.
Soho was pretty cool – I found the best alcohol shop that had everything I ever dreamed of:
I bought some Sloe Gin (gin made with sloe berries which you can’t really find in Canada) and some violet liqueur. I will use these with all the tonic I have left from buying a 12 pack. I seriously don’t know how I have this much tonic in my apartment.
After my fun and entertaining day, I slept, woke up at 6, and went to the airport. I had issues. Issues of weight. Mainly that both my bags were overweight. But also that my carry-on, which was until now perfectly fine, was too big for the cabin. I argued my case, was told to stick it in the “sizer” and was told it was too long. I was also told that I couldn’t have my blanket tied to the outside, or my bottle on the ring on the outside either, so I took those off and put them in a tote bag. Then my bag was weighed as 4kg too heavy, so I took out a bunch of stuff, and put it in the tote bag, asking where the Post Office was. The lady was surprised that I was going to post it, but approved my carry on on that factor (after having scrutinised the size of my purse), after only charging me one excess baggage fee of £65 ($108). Tired and feeling crap, I went upstairs to the only place open (The Post Office was closed, though had it been open, I’d have thought for a second about posting my excess stuff), which was Krispy Kreme. I had a doughnut and a tea, and began repacking my rucksack with the things I’d just taken out. It’s a farce, it really is. Soviet Britain – though I didn’t have the same problem on Finnair when I went to Helsinki. Then when I tried to go through security I was told I could only take two bags – my tote bag apparently counting as one item too many. So I stuffed my purse into my tote bag, and went through. Then when I got to the x-ray conveyor, I took my purse out, and then put it on the belt. Again, it’s a farce.
At the airport
Finally through security, I wandered around aimlessly. I didn’t buy any duty free, as I did buy what I wanted when going to Finland (an Yves St. Laurent Touche éclat pen). I faffed about online for a while, but my 45 minutes ran out. I eventually got onto the plane and we all were sitting one row too far back on the ancient fairly crap Air Canada plane, since the labels were in the wrong places. I got into the right seat, and off we went. I watched a few movies: Oblivion (ok, but drags on a bit), The Bling Ring (couldn’t finish, utter shite), and the first hour of Star Trek: Into Darkness (I shouldn’t have watched the Bling Ring!!!). I guess I can rent it, though.
I was glad to see Dad when I got to the airport. My bags didn’t take long at all. Then we drove home. And I played with the cats. It was awesome.
So I went to Finland and it was pretty swell. I saw Kimmo, my best friend forever and ever and ever, who is like the same person but with different hair. Subtle Frances Ha ref….
I took Finnair, the friendlist of airlines, where they give you probably the grossest looking sandwich ever that actually isn’t really that bad in the end.
Seriously.. gross. I think it was chicken??
I ended up arriving in Vaasa, the best city in Finland, at around 1:00am, since I had probably one of the last flights out of Helsinki there at 23:59. I drank two beers while I was waiting for my flight and loving the free wifi at the airport – Finland, land of ubiquitous free wifi. Those two beers cost about 17.00 euro ($23.40). They were pretty good though. I had some nuts (1 euro/$1.35) as well, because I couldn’t face eating anything substantial. I had arrived in Helsinki airport at around 20:45 (early! All of my Finnair flights were early…) and everything pretty much was already closed – even the pubs and the bars. The only thing left open was the café – where I met the first of my loves of my life in FInland, Matti, the barman.
He looked at me awkwardly without making full eye contact and seemed to be conflicted as to whether to say “moi” or “hello” or anything really. He chose “moi”, and I awkwardly said “moi” back (there’s a theme here). Then I asked for a beer and his face looked like he’d made the biggest mistake of at least his hour, if not his day.
Awwwwkkkwwaard
It’s always weird for me to ride trains or planes through the night, because when I look outside the window all I see is complete darkness – it’s impossible in a sense to see which way you’re going or even if you’re going at all.
I got to Vaasa and Kimmo had come get me in a taxi. We then proceeded to eat, drink, and stay up almost all night. The next day we woke up at a reasonable(ish) time and went out for sushi, then walked around Vaasa.
First sushi in months and months and months
After seeing all the sights, we determined that it was beer o’clock, and sat on a patio on the main square with some beer. Below: the sights:
We also accidentally drowned a beer in Kimmo’s beer. I feel pretty guilty about it.
Ooops
It was all OK in the end
We made a very good decision to get some cheese snacks (in both ball and stickish form).
We did a marathon of Ruotsin miljonääriäidit (Swedish millionaire mums), the first series. It is probably the best show on television. My favourite is Maria or the weird lady who goes on dates with old guys and then complains that they’re old.
we’ve made a huge mistake
or not
I suppose the most entertaining thing about unhealthy eating in Finland is what’s on the beer/cider cans. And it only entertains me. Because I’m childish:
It’s like the bilingual thing in Canada with English and French, but I think that some of the words are a bit closer than in English/French, so it sounds funnier like a repetition – Pantti-pant. Or elevator: Hissi-hiss.
me
I also saunaed, which was amazing. I love throwing the water on the rocks and just sort of soaking in the heat. Also the apartment has a really nice sauna:
Ooooo
We went to bed yet again at a reasonable(ish) time. In the morning we had breakfast and I was introduced to both Kippari (no pic) and Reissumies, my new mistress.
❤ Reissumies
Breakfast
Breakfast part 2
The best combination is Reissumies (the rye discs) + Kippari (the cheese) + salami + cucumber + butter or spreadable mushroom flavoured… stuff? I can’t remember what it’s called but it’s delicious, I love this sort of breakfast. I need to find a cheese like Kippari here or I’m going to be sad. I love Kippari (my husband).
I found a photo of the Kippari packet from the Valio website
We went to the bookshop and I bought Muumipappa ja meri (Moominpapa and the sea) to read. We wandered a bit more (and had a pint at Public Station, an amazing bar full of old, sad drunks who’d obviously started hours before us, plus a man with no arms playing on the slot machine –I wondered how he held his beer, but Kimmo noticed he only got bottles so he could hold it with his stump(s)) before returning home to wait for Kari’s return.
We decided that it was the night to go to Vanha Mestari for karaoke and longero (‘long drinks’ i.e. gin/vodka/etc + some other liquor + juice). I wanted to sing Mitä Kuuluu, Marja Leena, but ended up with a weird tango song, so I sung My Way awkwardly, since I can’t sing, and it’s a really slow song. Kari came and saved me at the end, probably for the best, so the drunks would remember me better.
Pre-karaoke with longero
Singing My Way like a tool
Karaoke spirit
After Kari sung a song (quite amazingly, might I add – I forgot what a good singer he is), we all went home and then stayed up a bit later. In the afternoon, Kimmo and I went to Helsinki. We stayed in the Scandic hotel Marksi, which is in the nice oldish bit of Helsinki. We left our stuff and went for a wander. I hummed and hawed in Stockmann’s, the big department store about presents for my mum and Nan, but in the end I decided on some things. We saw the sights, then ate some nice Italian food. Awkwardly, some old guys were leaving and said some weird comment about me and therefore not wanting to leave, thinking I wouldn’t totally understand and that Kimmo totally wouldn’t point it out to me (He did, and one guy totally turned and strained to look at me even though we were maybe 50-70cm apart…). After dinner (pizza!), we dropped off things at the hotel, and wandered around, regretting our not buying booze at the store we went to after riding the subway, where I bought about 5kg of salmiakki and one huge tube of FInnish mustard. We went quite far out to one bar that was “not a far walk” according to Kimmo, then we had a bit more on the way back, finishing with some at the hotel bar, then going to bed for about 3 hours before waking up to go to the airport – Kimmo back to Vaasa and I to England. I wished I could have stayed an extra day, but I was under the impression I was needed back in England on Sunday, when I really could have… sort of.
A sweet art installation (not really)
The square by the harbour
Dima and Papa – locks bridge?!
Helsinki Central Station
Kimmo on the subway
Trying to subtlely take a photo of the orange subway car but then just getting a sweet pic of this man’s bald head
We went to this station and came back
At the airport we each ate breakfast – croissant for me, sandwich for Kimmo. Then we chilled for a bit and I had to go to International departures, so we separated- but kept in touch on the free wifi because Finland is rad. I bought a magazine and a newspaper to study at home, and some sweets for my mum. Then I got on the plane and flew home.
I had this for eating during take off
Anyways, I swear I’ll catch up eventually with my life, since it’s gotten a bit slower now and I’m not jetsetting around the world anymore (yet).
So I haven’t been posting much lately since I’ve been a bit lazy but…
A lot of things have happened since I went to Bristol. I went to Castle Ashby with mum, thinking it would be an actual castle, but it was a stately home (inaccessible) and a yard with some shops in old stables. I bought some sweet hunting socks with tassels, and I finally found a Ribena ice, which I haven’t had since I was very small, probably on the Pitsford Reservoir, which we actually went to later.
I wanted to buy this Metropolitan Police badge, but it was way too expensive.
I also found the most evil puppet ever
RIBENA ICE. CHIILDHOOD FULFILLED
Wasn’t quite as good as it was when I was a kid…
At the aforementioned reservoir
I made a tulip skirt out of my American Apparel circle scarf. I felt a bit like it was a kanga throwback, since mum gets annoyed with me if I try to pull of kanga/batiki here and makes me change into something else, since she doesn’t want to be seen with me in public wearing a swath of material that says (in Swahili) “MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS.” There was also a cute goose, who was very friendly.
I took a sweet selfie in the car too, since I’m an unrepentant narcissist.
I also forgot to mention the two adorable dogs that my cousins have at their house (where Nan’s afterparty was). They’re a bit loud, but I like them. I walked them a few times at night with Steve, which was nice. I’m glad for the opportunity to talk to my relatives more closely. It’s been too long since I saw them.
Cooper, sitting in an adorable way. I didn’t get a good photo of Monty.
Mum in all her kindness and love remembered that I wanted to see a castle, so we went to Kenilworth Castle and Warwick Castle one day with Nan.
Kenilworth also has Elizabethan gardens
Apartment ruins at Kenilworth
I wandered around the ruins myself, since Nan couldn’t come around with the wheelchair. Mum stayed with Nan for the most part. We had lunch in the tea room – I had soup and cream tea, since I’m a greedy person:
Also Rose Lemonade
Mum and I found a series of helmets and a not-totally-pleased-but-warming-to-my-childishness man who was attending them. I tried a load of them on at mostly my mum’s… oh who am I kidding, I wanted to try them on. So I did. And mum took photographs.
It’s like a bonnet!
I’m wearing glasses with a helmet since I’m an educated knight
Imma smacka yo face (bonus gloves pic)
If my mum weren’t so patient…
I also took a nice photograph with Nan:
😀
I took a self-shot by balancing my camera on a ruined wall, though I look a bit grumpy. As usual.
Narcissism
After Kenilworth Castle, we went to Warwick Castle, which was slightly less pleasant, mostly because it’d been completely commercialised, and was sort of a theme park for children. It was a bit weird. I had to always shoot up and crop out all the touristy stuff.
Church tower from the castle tower
Tapestry in Queen Anne’s room
Painted glass in the Warwick Castle house
The Mount at Warwick Castle
The day after we went to the castles, I went up to Manchester to see my cousins. I had a nice Italian dinner with Chris at Gusto. The day after, I went to Old Trafford with Alan, with whom I was staying with. I was happy to see Frank after lunch and have tea with him – the end of the day led us to Alan’s partner’s house, where she had made chili con carne, which was quite nice. The day after, Alan and I went to North Wales, to Llandudno.
Llandudno
Seagull at the pier
We had a lovely drive home along the coast road. The next day I boarded a train for Middlesbrough to meet a friend, and we went together to Whitby. Whitby is a seaside town on the other coast – at Llandudno, I put my feet in the Irish sea, and at Whitby, I put my feet in the North Sea (I think? worst geographer ever…). We had fish and chips from the Magpie café, which were pretty good, though the portion was about two times too big for my little stomach. After we wandered through the town with the ultimate goal of going to Whitby Abbey, which we did, though it was really windy and I couldn’t see much because my hair was in my eyes until I sensibly stacked it all on top of my head.
The very portrait of sensibility – grave at Whitby Abbey
Whitby Abbey being all broody
The harbour entrance from the windy hill
Graveyard overlooking the town
The Abbey
Gothic architecture is pretty sweet
I did also see something very strange that I wasn’t certain about. When we left the train station, we saw a group of people surrounding some Morris dancers. I was confused by them and soon learned why – they had sort of blackface on. I think it was a pirate themed thing, but I’m not really sure. I just was miffed the whole time. They roamed about the town so we kept running into them…
Morris dancer.. wat
I went home the next day to Wellingborough station, where we had lunch with Alan, my mum, and my Nan. We did a bit of a drive round the countryside after, where I found a bust of my great, great, great Uncle, Sir Alfred East, and remarked on how similar we sort of look (Mum’s got the photos of me standing close to him, so I’ll post those later.)
Sup g-g-g uncs
I also found the ultimate thatch cottage, which falls into line with the penultimate part of my life plan: live in an adorable thatch cottage with a rad stone wall:
Oh God yes
Dat thatch
That’s pretty much it for what I’ve been doing, though I have a bit more to write about… but I’m lazy, and I only get 45 minutes of wireless in Heathrow… Since I’m going to Finland.
I’m hoping I don’t have the same situation that plagued my flights from Dar and Dubai…
children behind my seat kicking me in the back
Then when I’m like
Everyone acts like I did something wrong. Though I’m pretty much thinking
For the past two days, I’ve been in Bristol, visiting with one of my parents’ friends, Jenny, and also looking into PhD opportunities and such at the University of Bristol. I took the bus from Northampton and it took about 4 hours – though I got to see (out the window) Oxford, Bath and a weird little town called Box, where there was a steam engine in someone’s front garden. I went to the department before going to Jenny’s flat to stay… the building was very impressive. I was particularly taken with the graduate students’ space, where I met two PhDs, Vanessa and Nadia.
Hard at work
Sweet bay window
We had some really interesting discussions, and I am glad to have met them both. I also had a very productive meeting with the head of postgraduate studies, and now have many things to look into before making applications for October of 2014. After Jenny had finished her meetings in the department, we walked back to her flat, and she cooked a delicious vegetable pasta with vegetables from a “farm box”, which was quite cool. For afters we had a plum crumble, which was a bit bitter, but I relished that sort of flavour – most fruit in Tanzania is very sweet. After that, I basically learned how cricket works, since Jenny is quite a fan, and the Ashes were on, which is a tournament between England and Australia (which is apparently sort of important…).
View from the flat
Cricket is actually quite interesting, and I sort of want to play it now, though I prefer more vigorous sport.
Me in 3 months
I went to bed in a proper bed with proper bedding (bliss), and woke up the next morning feeling rather good. I had breakfast, and then Jenny and I walked around looking for Gromits, heading in the general direction of Clifton Bridge. Gromit finding was good fun. I haven’t watched a Wallace and Gromit film for ages – apparently there is some sort of sheep character now. I found 18 Gromits in all, and here are a few of my favourites:
Walking to the Bridge was quite cool – Bristol is a very nice city
Somerset
Bristol is full of these lovely terraced houses, which remind me vaguely of Montreal (since people have similar apartments), albeit the buildings are much younger in Montreal. I do wonder though whether the apartments within can get rather dark due to the lack of side-windows.
Terrace!
Jenny and I went to Clifton Suspension Bridge, which was opened in 1864, after a long construction period (almost 40 years). The Avon gorge is really impressive.. I didn’t think it was that deep.
The Bridge
The Gorge
Closer bridge
We had a really nice walk through Clifton Village, and we ended up having some tea at a chocolate house. I gazed at chimney pots. I always dream about having a nice house with a big fireplace, a proper wood fireplace, where I can sit with a book on a cold winter evening…
Castle-pots
There are lots of cool little arcades and streets around Clifton…I like the vintage shops and cafes.
Green arch
After Jenny and I parted, I spent the rest of the day wandering around Bristol. I found a 2 pound bookshop called “The Last Bookshop” (echoes of Los Angeles) – I bought a Robert Service book, two science fiction novels, and a book about writers in the Soviet period, called Engineers of the Soul. I finished Engineers of the Soul; it was quite well researched and enjoyable – I especially liked the bibliographic acknowledgements at the end – I have more Soviet books to find for my collection. I also finished reading Flowers for Algernon, which I’m still processing up until now.
On the way, I found a statue of Queen Victoria
I was heading towards the water, and I found the College Green, which seems a nice place to sit and eat, but I decided to eat my sandwich closer to the water – my lunch was a salmon sandwich from Tescos, crisps, and Ribena (£3/$4.85). The park, or rather square, by the Watershed is really cool – there’s loads of fountains that children splash in, and an interesting set of stairs with a sort of waterfall over them. I wondered whether they were salt water, but thought it unlikely.
Pigeons in the fountain
Serious face in the park
After lunch I wandered along the river (estuary?). I came across an old Magistrate’s Court (possibly?), which was likely built in the 1950s, but was now boarded up. I found it interesting and a bit sad that such a large building was closed in the middle of the city. Behind the building, a church tower juts out.
Old and old
Front view, with crests
Nearby was the Temple Church bombed out in World War II
Temple Church was nearby – it was bombed out during World War II. Other than the ubiquitous war memorial or cenotaph in most English villages and towns, it was the first mark of that conflict on the landscape I came across. I spent some time looking inside and sitting by it, before wandering around a bit more in Bristol.
I had to rush back to the Watershed to meet Jenny for a film – Frances Ha. Watershed is the kind of cinema I really like – independent, showing a nice mixture of films, with a bar attached. It reminded me a bit of the Toronto Underground Cinema (RIP 2010-2012) rather than the Royal, though I suppose the Royal is still open. I think the major difference is that Watershed isn’t in an old cinema, and that difference of aesthetic really divides them. I was happy about the wifi in the Watershed, since it was open, and didn’t need some ridiculous sign up, like the other ‘free’ wifi I’ve encountered in this country. I got a pint and sat to wait for Jenny, who arrived shortly after. We finished up and went in to the film, which I enjoyed thoroughly.
The trailer doesn’t quite capture the beauty of this film – it is in the small moments that are given a bit of time, even though they don’t ‘mean’ anything. I like books and films that are more series of vignettes rather than one continual story. I especially liked this moment in the film:
Probably my favourite thing about Frances Ha is that it was a film about female friendship, about being a young woman in a big city and struggling to make ends meet, and that there was no sex in the film at all. I feel like more films like this need to be released – romance doesn’t need to be there for a compelling film about women.
After the film, we went to a brassiere on the waterfront. It was lucky that Jenny made a reservation, otherwise we wouldn’t have been seated. It was a very nice place. I got to try Fentiman’s Curiosity Cola which has a pleasant fenneley taste to it. I had a boar salami and local cheese to start, with bread (ordered after – they brought me a massive bowl of bread, rather than the few slices on a plate I was expecting).
For my main course, I had ham hock with fresh vegetables in a clear broth. The only negative thing about the dish was the mint sauce – it made the broth a bit salty in the end, but I still enjoyed it.
Delicious
I like locavore restaurants particularly. After we ate, we walked home. I enjoy walking in the dark very much. I never could do it in Tanzania, except for the odd time when I was with others… but anyways… The sun confuses me here. Since I am now farther north, I should remember that the sun will set later, but I never do, so invariably I think the sun is setting at about 6:30pm as it does in Tanzania, rather than at about 9:30pm, as it does here.
The next morning, I packed all my things up and Jenny gave me a ride to the bus station, for my unfortunately routed ticket of Bristol-Heathrow, 2 hour wait, Heathrow-Northampton. I read Flowers for Algernon and finished it, and started on the Engineers of the Soul book. We finally arrived at Heathrow, where I ate an underwhelming ham and cheese panini, and drank a full pot of Earl Grey. I was getting on the bus and my new (UK) phone (I got a SIM card in Bristol for my TZ Nokia) started ringing, but I couldn’t answer it until the bus was already underway. Mum told me that dad’s train was cancelled, so she was going to drive him to Heathrow. I was vexed. I thought maybe I could get off at the next terminal, but no, the next stop was something like Hemel Hempstead or some bizarre name. Luckily, mum convinced him to wait for the next train, and she said she’d pick me up in Northampton. I read.
Bus face
It was kind of like that bus scene in Shaun of the Dead:
On my arrival in Northampton, I found out that mum’s rented car had stopped working, sort of. So I decided to walk to where she was parked, but I also hadn’t been in Northampton for over 7 years (since we never stopped there last time I was in the UK). I set off, with my giant rucksack, my satchel, and my laptop bag. I was going the wrong way, but a man helped me… but he was a bit creepy. It reminded me of Tanzania, in a way, since he insisted on giving me his number and taking mine, though I just have ignored the texts and hopefully won’t have to deal with it again – that’s what happened a few times in Tanzania, since I felt like it would be too awkward or difficult to refuse giving my number. I’m not quite certain what it is really; I think as women we’re raised to be polite and obliging in a sense, and also to avoid awkward moments, so it’s just easier somehow to give the number and ignore later. Luckily I’ve just got a ‘burner’ number here, so it won’t work in a month anyway.
Yeahhhh…
I walked quickly towards mum, and an AA truck passed. I realised I should have hailed him, since he was going in the direction of where mum was parked. Unfortunately, I didn’t, and when I got there, he recognised me. The tires were fixed (some pressure issue), and we went home.
And I’m also too lazy to come up with a proper title, so eat it.
I’m not going to write about safari yet, but I swear this isn’t another LA post series (I’ve actually drafted a few of them, I swear) – I have about 2,000 photos to sort through and I’m busy eating cheese. I’m going to write about what has been going on up until now, since you haven’t heard from me in more than a week! though I don’t know if anyone noticed…
So after I left my parents at a really nice and fancy hotel, where they bought me lunch:
Smoked sailfish
I ended up at the Survey Motel again, which wasn’t bad, though this time my shower and my fan were not working (but the air conditioning did, but A/C is so cold for me now). I was glad to see Frederick again. I did two things there: I went to see the downtown, which I didn’t do in April, and I went to the beach, since the Indian Ocean is swimmable. By that I mean no schisto or other fun waterborne diseases.
Bajaji face is smug face
I was accompanied to town on the first day by a young geologist named Eric. He showed me the National Museum and Obama Drive (formerly Ocean Drive). We took a bajaji into town – in Dar, bajajis are more like taxis, rather than in Mwanza, where they are a sort of daladala thing.
A yellow one! Yay!
The National Museum was a bit sparse, but had some really interesting art, and a few choice artefacts.
Nyerere being cool
Cut-outs
German colonial sign
Presidential car
An interesting comic from the HIV/AIDS exhibit
We walked a lot actually, and I even saw the fish market, though I took no photographs. Most of the fish had been sold as it was the afternoon, but it was rather overpowering – fish guts and blood everywhere, especially in the little drainage divots in the ground. I also saw a fish that was almost as big as myself, which was pretty cool.
The waterfront at Obama Drive
I also snapped this really sweet brutalist building, probably a remnant from the socialist era:
I like it. Because I’m weird.
We were caught in traffic on the way back, and even with a bajaji it took forever.
The interesting thing about traffic jams in Dar is that you can buy almost anything while waiting in them. Men walk up and down the queues with all manner of product from car accessories and snacks (practical) to shelves (impractical). They seem to also divide the queues into territories (i.e. from this lamppost to that lamppost).
The next day I went to the beach by bajaji – White Sands Resort, which was recommended by the taxi driver who drove me from town to the Survey Motel. The entry fee was 5,000tsh ($3.20) and guaranteed me access to the beach, pool, and other facilities. It was very nice, though the food and drink were nothing to write home about (though I guess I am now), and it was really, really windy, so I got a lot of sand in my face.
Sand oh god why
The shore
Little shore-hut thing
Obligatory photograph of knees in front of paradise-esque Indian Ocean tropical beach
Completely obligatory photo of dirty sandy feet in front of water
Anyways, I got a little fed up with the sand getting in my drink/face/e-book reader, so I left at around 2:30pm. Frederick was surprised to see me, but I told him about the wind, and he looked a bit skeptical. I swear on me mam it were really windy.
I don’t know why I find this hilarious
Anyways, the next day I left.
Last moments in Dar with a weird asymmetrical dimple
So I left early for Dar airport (my flight was at 4:45pm) – I asked the taxi driver to come at 12:00pm. It was good that I did, since I didn’t check in at the airport until about 2pm, since we sat in a massive traffic jam for about an hour and a bit. In traffic, one of the weirdest things I’ve seen in Tanzania happened. We were sitting behind a tanker truck which was on its way to the port to get more oil. Three shifty looking guys came up and started opening taps and siphoning it off into plastic carrier bags. The first two finished fairly soon, but one man was loitering around the truck for about 30-40 minutes while traffic slowly moved in starts. No one did anything, as I would expect, and even the truck driver didn’t get out, though they were hanging off the side of the truck. The thief was waiting and waiting for the bag to fill up. About 45 minutes after he first clambered onto the truck he took from it a huge double-bagged ball of petrol. It looked almost perfectly round. Mussa, the driver, told me that they sell this petrol on to daladala drivers and the like. I was amazed by the sheer audacity of it all.
The thief
This time, I actually had a seat in front ofthe wing, though as it turned out, I had a great view of the engine (and the sunset!). I also had an entire row to myself, albeit surrounded by babies on both sides. I watched two films and read a little of Leskov’s short(ish) peasant stories. The films I saw were Parker, which was ok, but I’m not sure if it merits inclusion in my upcoming Jason Statham Film Festival or not, since I couldn’t sufficiently suspend my disbelief at the characters and their actions… it felt a bit unfinished. The other film I saw was Cockneys versus Zombies, which was actually not that bad, for what it was – there was one hysterical scene where an OAP ‘runs’ with his walker away from a horde of zombies…
Peasantry 4 Lyfe (Leskov, wiki commons)
Last (blurry) Tanzanian sunset
Finally
I liked the luminous arcs of road that I could see across the darkened desert as we came into Dubai. It was enthralling to watch the lights as I came in.
Dubai lights all blurry and dat
I also participated fully in the consumer economy on my arrival in Dubai. I had wanted to buy myself a self-congratulatory lipstick in honour of finishing my fieldwork, so I settled on Dubonnet, a shade of dark red from Mac. I arrived in Dubai at about 11:20pm.
I AM SO AWAKE WITH MY NEW LIPSTICK
I WAS AWAKE THE WHOLE TIME
I spent about an hour speedwalking laps around the airport but then I got a bit bored of it and decided to go for a beer in the Heineken Lounge there. I was carrying a lot of things and this man made a comment so I decided to ask whether I could sit with him and his friend. They were deep sea divers coming back from the Gulf – they told me they defuse bombs so that pipelines can now be built. Coincidentally, two of their colleagues were on my flight to Gatwick (they were flying to Manchester). We had a few pints, and they got increasingly urgent messages from their colleague on my flight that it was last call, so I left the bar at about 2:15am (the boarding call was 2:05am), and saw final call on the board, so I had to run (a bit awkwardly) to the gate – I was the last one to board the plane. The woman at the gate said “been shopping, have we?” and I just nodded. I went to see the colleague of my new found mates at 41C (I was 37K, which was an awesome seat). Then before take off, I sat down, curled up in blankets and scarves, and passed out for most of the flight (thanks beer!). I feel a bit bad because I’d promised to have a drink with Buck (the aforementioned colleague’s name), but he kept coming up to me and I was asleep.
The worst seat ever
ooops
I woke up about 2 hours before landing, having never slept on a plane before. I felt a bit groggy, but I managed to eat a bit of breakfast, while a strange (probably drunk) man bothered pretty much everyone, and told us not to eat our breakfast. I didn’t eat the hot part, since it was gross, but the other bits were ok. On arrival, I went through electronic passport control to avoid awkward questions about my British passport being unstamped, and it was really convenient. My luggage came fairly quickly, and I said goodbye to my new acquaintances and promised I’d ring when I was in London to go for the promised drink. Mum and Dad were late coming due to traffic on the M25 ring road, but I was ok with it. I drank a double espresso blended ice mocha thing from the coffee shop and read the paper. It started pouring rain, and everyone was annoyed except for me, since I hadn’t seen rain for a long time (dry season in Mwanza).
Everyone else
Me
to THE NORTH.
After we got off the M25 (I think?), we stopped at a service station to get some food and groceries for later. I had a sandwich, a glorious panini-esque sandwich, crisps, and a cola.
My first meal of white people food – bacon and brie sandwich, salt and vinegar crisps, cola (more TZ than English now really)
I also discovered that shops are fairly overwhelming to me due to sheer volume of choice. Abundance now is a bit weird – at least in the Western sense. I think I’ll eventually get over it. I was very excited about the cheese display…
I looked a-ma-zing with my salty gross hair
Though I did have a few moments this week in shops where I felt a bit panicked because I could not find anything due to this volume of product. Once, when I was going to buy some chocolate mousse, and another time when I was looking for custard. It’s also probably because things in British supermarkets are subtly different to things in Canadian ones (like custard, we don’t really have it with the yoghurts and that). The chocolate mousse wasn’t so bad – I found some and went to go put it in the cart, but then right beside the cart there were another 20 types of chocolate mousse and then I had no idea which one to buy. Why so many? The custard incident was a bit more bad, since I did actually start to panic, since I couldn’t find this custard where mum said it would be, and there were too many packages to look at, and I felt totally overwhelmed by sheer capitalistic variety. I went to go ask a staff member where it was, but luckily, he was just stocking it, so I managed. Thankfully. “Small” shops here seem rather big to me, and I find the choice in them sufficient for my needs. I like buying local here too – there’s loads of nice little cafes and that. But before we went to Nan’s house on our journey from Gatwick, we stopped in a little town I remember from 7 years before called Newport Pagnell – apparently home of Aston Martin.
Newport Pagnell
We went into the church there, which was almost 500 years old in parts. I liked the painted doors.
Church door
Inside
Interesting war memorial outside
We also went in this little shop I remember from last time, which sells kind of paper curiosities and other things of that nature. I bought two things to hang on my walls, though Dad took them back to Canada, so I don’t have a photo of them. The first one was a cute illustration from the early 20th century of “Bicycle sailing”, with ladies riding bicycles with sails. The second one I’m going to hang in my bathroom since it’s a sweet photograph of an 1890s football player from I think Millwall FC with an amazing mustache and he is totally swag as the kids say.
Finally in the right shire (not pronounced shire like in Lord of the Rings, but shire)
We went to Kettering in advance of my Nan’s birthday party to pick up party supplies (I needed cleaner shoes, since all of my shoes are p much Africafied [dusty and scratched up]), so I got some amazing heels at Topshop. I also found these socks, which I will not part from ever:
CAT SOCKS
Nan’s 90th birthday went pretty well. We had it in a hall in her town. She had a really good time, but some days later (i.e., today) she’s still really tired. I was glad to meet all of my cousins and relations and other acquaintances again, because I realised that having been gone for 7 years, I almost felt that I couldn’t recognise them. Luckily we all got on really well. Nan is so cool that she even had an after party at one of their houses in Higham Ferrers (or Higham for short) and we stayed until about 10! I was the sous chef at the party, helping Steve with plating, mostly, though it wasn’t that fancy.
This is Nan, by the by
The next day I went to Bristol, and I want to write about it, but this post is getting really long, and mum’s giving me looks so…
So I’m sitting here late at night in Tanzania posting about Los Angeles. I’ve done my nails so I look presentable though somehow the lightest of touch made one of them get all messed up. So I just put on a load of topcoat and hope that’s going to work. Anyways. Promised post one of nine (christ, I’m ambitious).
DTLA in the background. And the wing, quel surprise.
Of course this post can only start with a photo taken from an airplane. How could it not? The flight was ok. I sat beside an American who alternated between asking a lot of questions and then not really wanting to hear the answer. I think that’s an American trait if I ever heard of it. I don’t think it’s negative; it’s just that when they say “how are you?” they really mean “hello.”
Hostel view!
I ended up staying somewhere from Airbnb which was sort of like a hybrid rooming house. It was cheap and cheerful. Not dirty. At first I was a bit anxious but I calmed down after spending more time there. I’d recommend it (look up “Sogo Residences” on Airbnb) and will probably stay there next time I go to LA unless someone’s willing to foot the bill for fancy digs.
I didn’t go to the conference the day I arrived, instead opting to explore my new neighbourhood (Little Tokyo) and generally wander around the city. I did end up going to The Last Bookstore since I found out that they closed late and had a little wander along the streets. I’d recommend The Last Bookstore highly. They have a whole floor of dollar books. It’s insane. I regretted that I couldn’t take back as many as I”d have liked. Of course I couldn’t take any of the books I bought with me to Tanzania, due to weight, and due to the fact I bought a Sony e-reader to avoid this very problem. So I have them all waiting for me at home, and I lust especially after Baudrillard’s America. I love Baudrillard. I’m a bit of a freak. :<
The Last Bookstore, on the dollar book floor.
One of the many cosy couches at the Last Bookstore
The Last Bookstore also has a few small studios/galleries upstairs with very interesting works, and a wool store that has beautiful products… if only I could actually knit anything other than a “scarf” (i.e. a too short, uneven, lumpy length of wool that wouldn’t fit around anyone’s neck).
Just like STALIN.
The dollar book section is actually on the same floor as these galleries and what have you, and on my second visit with Marg and Andrea, I found an entire shelf of Russian books! I like reading them and marking them up to improve on my Russian. Consider my surprise when I found this book with my dear friend Stalin on it. I had to do the same pose.
But not like this Stalin because I wasn’t cranky.
I snapped a few more photos on my way home and put everything away. Being a geographer, I strive for routal efficiency (not actually an expression), so I decided a “straight line” home was best because I was tired and wanted to sleep. However little did I know that this decision would take me directly through Skid Row. I only figured this out when the hobo-structures along the sidewalk became increasingly elaborate. I did what any sane person would do, so I furrowed my brow and speed-strutted my way out of there, making it back to my room in record time.
Strutted like this but at 100 x speed.
Totally scenic and deep
The next day I set off for the conference, ready to learn and meet people and totally not be anxious about anything.
The weird lumpy building is where the conference was headquartered. Also who is Paul Hastings, sorry Hastings and why is he so important?
The hotel where the conference was was lumpy and a bit weird but the elevators afforded very nice views of LA, seeing as many of the smaller group presentations were on floors 30-32. The AAG is huge. It’s insane. So many people. I went to a few talks and then I ended up meeting up with my adviser, Marg, Andrea, Sarah, Jenna, Karen, another professor and probably about 2.3 people I forgot because I’m a terrible person. We went to this Thai place and had some nice curry. While the others headed back to the conference to watch a film, I had to finish up a paper for a course, so I went back to the room and spent the night perfecting my genius. Then the wifi went out so I put off sending it, and then I’d forgotten, but the professor was forgiving.
Marg and I
The next day I spent most of my time at the conference and didn’t explore really at all, beyond going to MOCA which was under renovations… so only 100 pieces were out. I had two favourites:
Rothko
Art on art yo
I ended up realising that Los Angeles, at least downtown, has a terrible late night food experience, as in everything is shut by 9. I don’t understand. Maybe it’s just downtown, but I ended up eating again at Wurstkuche, a sausage hall down the road, twice. The crocodile andouille was ok, but I prefer something a bit less crunchy? So the next time I got this Bockwurst. And obviously duck fat fries because, well, gras de canard. And of course a Kostritzer. On tap. The beer was the best part.
I ate here twice. It was too many times. Once is enough. (Wurstkuche).
The best part about going a second time to Wurstkuche was seeing this mural on this brewery which I forgot to return to:
I SEE YOU.
On Friday morning it was my time to present my paper and I was super nervous and scared. Luckily my presentation was at 8:40am, meaning hardly anyone was there because it’s godawfully early.
Universal “AWAKE” face
Jason Statham AAAWWAAKE. (Yes I did this two posts in a row, but this movie was shot in Los Angeles, OK!?)
After my talk went well (spoiler alert: I thought it went badly), two of my favourite people, Jenna and Pat, took me out for lunch before we went to VENICE BEACH. I was excited, since I thought I couldn’t get out there due to my lack of driving ability and will to take the bus that far. Jenna and I each got a CLEANSE juice thing in a jar, and despite their slightly terrifying name, they were delicious.
Two of my favourite people before they became super irritating through their wearing of matching t-shirts (Pat is already wearing his).
I learned that matching t-shirts is a thing. I also learned that palm trees are amazing. And that it is too cold for swimming, but I didn’t bring my swimsuit anyways. The boardwalk is overwhelming, though it’s also an interesting demonstration of classic economic geography theory, since there are so many of the same shop located very close to one another. Competition and that. Also ridiculous marijuana doctors where you pay $40 for nothing.
I feel like I look rather… unlike myself?
Paaaalm treees
I also took this sweet seagull photo on the pier. I am in awe of this perfect moment captured. It ended up flying away and my seagull friendship never quite manifested in the same way again…
Probably the best bird photo I’ll ever take.
As the sun lowered in the sky, we decided to reconvene downtown for supper at a location decided later. We ended up eating Indian food and it was amazing. I love eating food as a group – everyone chooses one thing and then shares it all with the others. The waiter was unsure about making my order spicy but I insisted and then had to add extra chili anyways. On the way to this restaurant I walked down Broadway and looked at the sad closed theatres and, I swear to god, I saw a pregnant 12 or 13 year old in one of the theatres that had been converted into a church.
Roxie no more
Wanted to come back in the daylight but I ran out of time 😦
The next day was Marg’s paper series, so I woke up a bit earlier and bought another amazing sencha latte and bacon doughnut at Cafe Dulce in Little Tokyo. Their lattes are amazing and I think their secret is steaming the tea leaves in the milk rather than dumping steamed milk on a tea bag (I’m looking at you,Starbucks). This was the smaller of the two doughnuts. It was enough, even though I probably could have eaten at least 10 more.
Marg’s talk was amazing. I liked the whole group (though I was late since I got into an argument with a hobo). After the series was done, Marg, Andrea, Chad and I decided to venture out onto Sunset Boulevard to find a wall dedicated to a musician whose name I’ve totally forgotten now because I’m an insensitive and terrible friend, Andrea, and I’m sorry.
Pictured: awful person
The wall in question, with Andrea
Also a slightly odd man took us into the shop by the wall and showed us some very cool, rare audio equipment and told us how sound worked in a way that made him sound crazy but when we thought about it actually wasn’t. Then we got tacos, because, well…tacos.
We separated from Chad because he and Sarah were going to a game of some variety. Maybe even going to the Game. The Game? I don’t know. But I know they had a good time! Andrea, Marg and I proceeded on to Union Station to check out its Art Deco wonders.
Nice chairs
Too bad this creepy jerk came and took up 1 and 1/2 chairs
After Union Station, it was only natural to cross the street to El Pueblo, the place where settlement in LA started. We even went to LA’s first house.
Spent way too much time getting this shot
For supper we went to Little Tokyo to this charming place who had a ridiculous 15-minute challenge. It’s called Wakasaya . I ordered the regular version (25$) of the challenge dish (which costs 50$ if you fail). I got so full, but everything was nice. The fish was very fresh, and while I think locals here probably go elsewhere, since it was emptier than other places I’d seen, for us from a place where the only fresh fish is lake fish, it was good. Andrea had her first sushi experience (as far as I could recall) and it seemed to go pretty well!
The sashimi bowl with every possible type of fish. For those gluttonous moments.
Since they were flying out early, they had to leave. I ended up sleeping the whole night and getting to the airport too early in LA, since my flight was delayed. It kind of sucked.
But in any case, I want to go back. And I swear I’ll finish the other 8 posts.
So here is the promised post. I swear I will get to the Los Angeles posts tomorrow, at least the first on the list. I’m still sorting through the photos. So the blog will be for the next little while an odd mixture of Tanzania and Los Angeles.
So I set off about two or three weeks ago to Tanzania. It was a really long journey. I’m going to write inanely about it, since I have all this time here. It’s not really safe to go out when it’s dark unless you have a taxi who you know and trust from door to door. We took a risk last weekend and had a hotel hail one for us, and he didn’t rip us off too hard (the ride should have been 3,000tsh but he asked for 4,000tsh).
In any case, I miss being outside in the dark, something I did often during my long, lovely summers in Toronto. I miss Toronto summer already. I know what I would be doing. Bikes and beers and beach and generally living it up. I love Toronto summers, even if I do profess to like winter better. Cue a lot of pictures from airplanes.
Bye Toronto, I will miss your brilliant and lovely summers ;_;
I got on a plane at Pearson leaving my parents behind. I miss them sorely, though I know I can live without them for a little while. I regret not taking a photo of them before I left because I realised that I don’t have any photos of them on my phone or on my computer. The things we think about when it’s too late.
Though, before the previous picture we had to get de-iced.
I was worried about making my connection at Heathrow, because Heathrow is literally the worst airport I’ve ever been through. Unfortunately, it snowed. At the end of APRIL. Because Canada, that’s why. We eventually took off a little late but we made excellent time.
My face when it was announced we were de-icing the plane
Getting close..
England ❤
So I landed in glorious, glorious England. And then I ran. Because my connection was tight and god knows where it is. I probably should have memorised my flight number. I got to security and they turned everything out because ENGERLAND that’s why. I don’t even know. I feel like I’m searched everywhere as part of a quota system (i.e. “We need to search this young white blonde woman so we don’t look racist). Then I packed everything up as best I could (SPOILER ALERT: REALLY EFFING BADLY) and set off again, stopping off at a shop to get some food since my flight left at 10 and I doubted there would be food.
Healthy English supper. Cost 13 quid. Sad.
I bought a few things and ran off again and sprinted carrying a bunch of stuff in the worst possible way for sprinting off to gate 5. Which was the Virgin Atlantic gate for Dubai. I was flying Emirates. I swore. I asked the attendants and they apparently had no clue so I had to run back off to where the corridor had divided into separate wings. I found out where the other Dubai flight was and ran there. I arrived sweatily at the gate entry and the man there asked what the rush was. I told him my worry and he said they hadn’t even started boarding yet (!!). The Virgin Atlantic flight actually had started boarding and was closing the gate well before its departure (10:05) and mine was leaving as it turned out at 10:15, but it didn’t board until much later. I collapsed into a heap on a chair, then rung my mum. Then I picked up a complimentary newspaper, which oddly enough, happened to be the Daily Mail. It’s a bit weird that they have that and nothing else of quality.
Sweet cameras on the Emirates plane on the tarmac at Heathrow. Literally the only time it showed something interesting.
I had three whole seats to myself. It was heaven. At first I was nervous about using all three but then I thought, eff it, and lazed on them.
Cosy and creepy lazin’
Throughout this journey I’d planned on working on my laptop but the planes are a bit cramped, so I just read and watched movies since studying as well was out of the question on the tiny tray tables. Is it me or are they smaller? Or maybe I just grew up… adulthood, man.
Classic films like “The Expendables 2” where Sylvester Stallone shows off his not at all weird face. I am mature.
Arabic map!
I tried sleeping but got little done. I arrived in Dubai and proceeded to not take any photos except from the planes.
Always on the wing. My view from Heathrow. Omg Burj Dubai you guys
of the terrifying and overwhelming terminals. Seriously. It’s like consumerism hyped up on meth. It’s insane. I hated it. If I was less tired and carrying less stuff I’d probably be more keen. But they only had one newspaper stand! In two huge terminals! They had stores selling one particular kind of champagne for chrissakes!
SO AWAKE.
Basically, awake like Jason Statham.
The only thing that held my attention were these phone ‘booths’:
I was captivated by these telephones
Then I found the gate and they took half my ticket by mistake maybe (the ticket was printed out differently than normal) and in my semi-lucid state I freaked out that I wouldn’t be reimbursed. Then I realised I’m an idiot. Then I got on the plane and WASN’T ON THE WING. So excite. Well I could still see it but I was far enough behind. There was also a (sort of cute!) flight attendant from Montreal. As soon as he saw my passport he asked where I lived. Since my heart is still there, I said Toronto, and he made a face like blech. Then I in my idiot state said something like “at least we can turn right on reds” and he laughed. Still got it even when I have no idea what day it is >_>
Totally what happened.
Dubai! ALSO NO WING.
I tried to stay awake for the flight but I slept awkwardly for most of it. Emirates has these cute stickers you put on your seat that say “please wake me up for…” and I put the food one. The food on Emirates is pretty terrible to be honest.
Dar es Salaam
Arriving in Dar I realised that this was the first time I’d ever stepped onto African soil, as I told my colleague Frederick in a semi-delusional state in the heat outside the airport. I loaded up into a van and we went through the heavy traffic to Survey Motel, which was a very nice place indeed to stay, even if I couldn’t figure out how to get hot water (classic mzungu).
Dar rains at the Motel.
Rain in Dar is interesting because it’s highly localised- in one neighbourhood it will rain heavily for a few minutes and then only one or two kilometres away, there is no rain. The rain falls very hard and most people don’t go outside when it’s raining, meaning if you have a meeting or something to do, it gets delayed.
Survey Motel yard
Frederick looked after me well in Dar, and definitely got me acclimatised to Dar es Salaam. I’m very grateful to him for everything. We spent most of our time at the university, meeting our colleagues there. I saw Leonia, who I hadn’t seen since the winter, who came to join our class in Environmental Health, and met her husband who is very helpful since he too is a geographer. He has said he may be able to give me more recent Census data that hasn’t been released generally yet.
GEOGRAPHY
It was a shorter time than I’d have liked in Dar, but I had to go to Mwanza so everyone knew I was there. We bundled back into the van which decided, no more than 300 or 400 metres from the Motel to quit out. Luckily we had a backup so we squeezed into a smaller car and drove to the airport. I had a little bit of trouble checking in since I realised the baggage allowance on to Mwanza was less. I had packed everything into two bags but both were too heavy. The checked bag was only 2kg over, so they allowed it, but the carry-on was 7kg heavier. As they conferred to see what to do, I started removing the expensive items from my carry-on to put in my purse so I could just pay for a second bag. However, they decided just as I’d finished and resealed the bag to reweigh it and behold! It was only 1kg over in the end. :< I feel like I cheated a little.
Airport breakfast
Tanzanian doughnuts are not particularly sweet but they are carb-ey which is perfect for breakfast. The airport is really expensive so this cost 6,000tsh. Normally, on the street, the coke would cost 500tsh and the doughnut about 300tsh. But I was starving.
Julius Nyerere International Airport
This is pretty much the extent of the terminal. Behind me is about another 50-60 metres and then the passenger area is done. Behind the glass halfway down is international departures. You also arrive in the same place and walk through departures. It’s tiny. And hot. And it’s got birds in it.
After some anxiety that I’d missed my flight since the announcements were fast, we got on the plane late. Oddly enough, the flight attendant remembered seeing me at Mlimani City (a mall, or perhaps the only mall in Dar). Standing out kind of sucks to be honest. That’s one thing I’ll be glad for when I get to the UK – blending in in a crowd. They fed us one drink of our choice and a pretty tasty sandwich, truth be told, and it came with a cookie. Airlines need to learn from this – simple is better for food.
Palm trees at the house’
My best bosom birthday buddy friend forever (bbbbfffff) met me at the airport, though she didn’t have that title yet. We got on famously and she offered to let me stay at the house on my first night so I wouldn’t be alone – also the apartment was left in an atrocious state. Like filthy. She’d already cleaned a bit but there was a plumbing problem plus a tonne of dirty nasty dishes sitting in filthy water in the blocked sink. Yuck.
Not having it.
So we hung out for a while. It was nice. We found out that we in fact SHARE THE SAME BIRTHDAY. It is awesome and we’re going to have a joint party come November. So we did work together at the house which is beautiful.
Working outside with Kate (who is secretly invisible)
We drove around delivering probiotic also and I collected map data. Mwanza is pretty big – same population as Toronto but the form is completely different. I like it so far, though it’s a pain to get around sometimes because the dirt roads are really pitted due to the rainy season. Lots of bumps and slow going.
On delivery
Mwanza
Mwanza’s weather is fairly nice because of the influence of one of the African Great Lakes, Lake Victoria, which moderates the climate. It also rains here but it’s less localised than in Dar, and it rains for far less time.
Lake Victoria fishing
I finally got to the lake shore about two weeks in, and it is stunning! The neighbourhood here is where they do a lot of local fishing, but unfortunately we were too late to buy any fish.
Oh my god I love it here.
Later on, I went with my newly arrived colleague, Shannan, to the Gold Crest hotel to see the sunset. Kate had recommended the place but to be honest I don’t want to go back. It was rather unpleasant. I was taking some photos with my iPhone which I don’t actually use here (I bought the cheapest possible Nokia). I had done this before very quickly in other places in Mwanza (as you can obviously see with the post) but this was the first time I was stopped by an employee and she asked how much I paid for my phone and I said I couldn’t remember and then she tried to buy it off me. I kept saying it wasn’t possible. Then we sat down and our actual waiter who finally brought my drink after about 30-40 minutes (I don’t mind Tanzanian service but to be honest it was awkward because Shannan already had her drink) came with said employee and tried to browbeat me into selling my phone. I felt awkward and uncomfortable. This hasn’t happened since at other establishments. I asked Kate and she said it was very weird. I never want to go back. The view is nice but the drinks were only OK. I’d rather go elsewhere.
Sunset from Gold Crest
The Mwanza stadium.
What pose am I even doing??
After we left Gold Crest on my repeated insistence due to the above awkwardness, we ate at the Sizzler where I ordered “English style fish and chips”. What I got was an entire tilapia, deep fried without batter and chips. It was actually really good. She had a very nice vegetable curry.
We live together in the apartment. It’s interesting to again after almost a year live with someone else.
Herons on the roof across from the apartment at sunset.
Hill view from the apartment
Outside the apartment we actually have a dog family. It’s a mum, a dad, and a puppy. I don’t honestly know if they’re related but I do know that every time I see them I want to adopt them and bring them back (TOTALLY PRACTICAL).
The dog family!
In any case, it’s now 12:30(AM) here and it’s taken me almost 2-3 hours to write this and upload all the pictures thanks to the mobile broadband erratically changing speeds (650 up, 25 down; 12 up, 20 down; 300 up, 30 down; and so on). I’m tired and there is a little more to write about but I’ll do it tomorrow.
So I’m in Dar es Salaam without much luck at sleeping. I’ll be leaving for Mwanza soon in the morning, but my body hates me and does not wish to sleep right now (1:37 local time). I’ll write more when I get to Mwanza.