When I watch this video I almost wish I had the foresight to collect this type of stuff about my Nan. Sometimes I feel like I didn’t do enough when I see things like this video, but I realise that this video is made only of the best and most perfect and sublime moments. I remember at the end that Nan would forget things a lot and repeat herself, but under all of that was her assertive, strongly independent personality. Along with that came her pride, which I think was important to her. I don’t think Nan liked the incapability that came with getting older, and she sometimes would get frustrated when she couldn’t put her thoughts into words or at the home she would hide her dirty clothes and would change clothes herself so that the staff would not see that she hadn’t made it to the toilet on time. I miss her a lot… I think when we discuss or see things about older people that they’re idealised (or even worse, considered ‘cute’) and we ignore the realities that come with it.
Things to ponder while you have lunch: What is it to live a long life? How is it to forget? Do you have any regrets when it comes to your older relatives? Do you fear getting older and what comes with it? Do you try to look after yourself now to ensure a smoother ageing process?
So where was I in May? I was yet again in England. My nan passed away only two days after I came back home. I’m really glad I got to see her before she died. I guess it reminds me of when grandma (dad’s mum) died when I was a kid in a way, but I didn’t get to see grandma really before she passed on. Having no grandparents left is an odd feeling. I always felt a bit odd about my grandparents in a sense because I never met my grandfathers. To me, grandparenthood is something entirely feminine, because the rugged masculinity (a cliché I suppose) of my grandfathers was entirely absent from my life. But again, it’s almost as if she isn’t really gone. The physical separation that was between us (namely, the Atlantic Ocean and eastern Canada) almost serves to delay my reaction to her death. This doesn’t mean that I loved or valued her any less. It just seems to have muted things. As she grew older, I think we talked less, and I regret that, in some respects. I wanted to collect all of her stories and hold them tightly, greedily to my chest. I think I’m obsessed with the past. I always look back and never forward. Maybe this is because I spent so little time with her growing up, compared with my brother. I had to fill in all the blanks myself; I needed a complete narrative. I don’t spite my parents for immigrating, because I think we have live a very good life here in Canada, and I do like it here. It’s just I think the (purely physical) distance between us and the rest of the family has caused me to cherish the moments I spend with them much more. I crave spending time with my other relatives. That’s why I want to move to England, at least for a little while, in order to get to know them better as people.
Nan and I
In any case, we held a beautiful service for her. I think it was good, because it was positive and upbeat, just like nan was.
Now that the mood is a bit gloomy and sombre, I’d like to write about everything else I did while I was away, but I’m probably going to do it in chunks, since I did do quite a few things. This isn’t going to be like the Los Angeles posts. I promise I will actually get around to it. Also the safari post is coming soon. I promise. Again. I just have so many photos!
Pretty much how the rest of the trip went, and my not posting about it. Ok, pretty much a metaphor for my whole life.
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’m lazy and since I haven’t been able to come up with a title or theme, I haven’t posted. Dad’s gone back to Jozi and Mum’s back this afternoon. Or now rather, since I started this post like two-three weeks ago, but haven’t really even finished it.
Anyways, for something a bit less mood-killing, here is this adorable video of dogs that my friend sent me:
It’s March! So I guess I didn’t do a post per week. I guess them’s the breaks..
I also won a doughnut on roll up the rim, so that’s pretty exciting. The only reason I got tea rather than hot water for my flask is because of the competition. I remember though, when a doughnut was equivalent to a muffin or fritter or whatever else you wanted with your winning rim. Oh well. I’ve got til June or July to decide which doughnut I want anyways. I ended up using them with my friend to get a dozen doughnuts like the greedy piggies we are. Also, I just get hot water now to save money, since I have to defend in May, which means I have to pay summer fees (at least in part), which sucks.
All I’ve really been doing is working on my thesis, I guess. I’m probably not complicated but just boring..
But anyways
I’ve been wandering around. I made a friend on the bus, Nadine, who also goes to the university on Wednesdays. We planned to go together this week by car and share the costs, but unfortunately, I’m actually kind of going to England this Wednesday. Since Nan is in a home now, we have to clear out her flat since she doesn’t own it and the landlord probably wants to put new tenants in. Since mum can’t really do it on her own, I am helping her for a week until dad gets to England from Jozi. It’s going to be hard work for the whole time. Remembering how much I hate moving, this is probably going to be 100x more painful. I’m a bit sad. It almost feels as if she’s passed on… I’m not really looking forward to going for the most part, though I do want to see Nan and my cousins.
omg we’re related what
I’ve been at home most of the time, and since I can drive now (btw I passed my test no big deal or anything whatevs), I’ve gone out to cafés locally to work on my laptop. I find I can work better when I’m not as comfortable – home is almost too comfortable to get a lot of work done, to be honest. There’s too many distractions, and the cats are way too cute to ignore.
Artie meets a neighbourhood cat
This cat, whose name I don’t know, but I do know that he is owned (and I know he’s a he because he still has his manhood, as they call it) by the neighbours up the street, is really friendly and loves me forever. He even lets me pick him up, which is pretty significant for a ‘stranger’.
You’ve gotta stop with the cats man
So how about dogs?
This adorable little dog is the new dog at my old apartment in Toronto. I can’t remember how to spell her name but she is energetic and very, very soft. I want to visit her (and Ray, my old landlord!) again when I get back. She’s a bit bitey but maybe she’s grown up a little and is past that stage where she explores everything by biting it.
Last weekend I went to Toronto to see Kate and all my peeps (as they say). On Friday I went to Sabai Sabai for the second time and ate a lot of tasty food- Janette, Rey, and I shared the tapas plates and ate way too many squash fritters (so goood). I also had a milk iced tea slushie ($4), but was a little disappointed because the slushie part had separated. Next time I’ll just get it with crushed ice. It ended up being about $35 per person, but it was really good, and I was so full after.
Lighting the (JAPANESE CHEESE)cake like a crazy person
All of us! (Rey, Jesse, Brent, me (in plié, I’m not actually that short!), Brent’s friend, Monica, Lindsey, and Janette
I really miss training with everyone! Hopefully when I get back to Toronto we’ll manage to find a new gym to train at (since the old gym got bought out by Goodlife and all the classes cancelled…). After we had cake, Rey, Jesse, and I went to McDonald’s, because Rey was still hungry (!!) after Sabai Sabai and cake. We sat around chatting for about an hour and then at around 2:00am we walked back to Union so Jesse could catch his bus. Then I took the subway back to Kate’s, played with her cats, and then slept for like, ever.
Cats… sensing a theme?
The next day I went and got a pedicure because I wanted to have decent looking feet for England, but then I realised that it was over a week in advance and it’s already all chipped (thanks, jiu jitsu). After that I went to Bahn Mi Boys, which I haven’t been to for ages and ages and ages, and all the guys who work there remembered me and things about my life and I was like omg you guyssss.
How gracious I imagined I looked
How I probably actually looked
Also I ordered the best thing that is not on the menu because it’s top secret and you can’t tell anyone ever and that’s why I’m posting it on a public internet blog so whatever anyways… Club Bao. Fried chicken with pork belly and spicy sauce and spicy peppers and vegetables and I didn’t take an obsessive photo of it because… I ran into David, who is one of our martial arts group! We haven’t seen him for ages since no one had his number, and it was really nice to see him and reminisce about Amir, our Muay Thai trainer who was gentle as a summer’s breeze.. if it were in winter. So we ate our food together and he generously gave me his seat (Bahn Mi Boys is always really busy). After we exchanged numbers so we can hang out when I’m back in town, or in case we find a new place to train.
After that, I went to go meet up with Alex to play chess at his studio space (spoiler alert: I lost). On the way I saw Toronto Spiderman, which is apparently a thing now.
he was throwing string around on the scaffolding.
We bought a dozen doughnuts and watched some Rick and Morty after our Seventh Seal level chess game. I remember one of my life goals (a little dream I guess) is to be better at chess so I probably should play more…
Rick and Morty is a pretty interesting cartoon, though sometimes it can be really silly:
This week I’ve been getting back into lifting and stuff since I’ve had a nasty cough for the past few weeks. You can’t really go into the gym with something that could be contagious like that, so my body’s atrophied. It’s basically like I went to space. Or something.
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.
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…