blog crack

Tonight I went to Range, one of the new hot restaurants in SF. And, of course, it's in the neighborhood of neighborhoods: The Mission.

It was so good. The food was yum and the company was even better. I dined with my Food Editor. And if you're going to have a dinner companion, who better than a lover of food?

Dinner lasted 3.5 hours; just the way I like it. I hate how some people just shovel food into their mouths. That's no way to appreciate food, especially the good stuff. You need to savor each bite.

Thus, I am a notoriously slow eater. I savor, I drink, I talk, I take little breaks, I've even been known to nap at the table. As one of my friends has said, "Do you even know what hot food tastes like?" No, but I know how tepid food tastes.

There are two types of people in this world: those eat simply to stave off hunger and survive (a merely physical act) and those who eat to enjoy (a mind-body-soul act). I am of the latter camp.

The best part of dinner tonight was that it was on the company dime. Yay! We ate to our hearts' content. I had the most amazing beet salad with sheep's milk feta (which I am very picky about), a sauteed mushroom-focussed entree and a chocolate pot de creme with cinnamon whipped cream. Sigh. Why is life so good?

On the walk home, we passed a strange sight. At the bus stop, along with three other people patiently waiting for the #33, was what looked like a little girl dressed up remarkably like Snow White. Upon further inspection we realized that, in fact, it wasn't a little girl but a big pinata of Snow White.



How completely random. Who left it there? Why? We asked the other bus stop people; they had no idea why it was there. And they had the audacity to laugh as we took pictures like this:



Hehe. But it was all in good fun. One chick even laughed into her cellphone while talking to someone saying "Oh thank god, someone's finally taking a photo!"
Of course I was going to whip out the camera. The moment was way too random.

It was the perfect ending to a great night.

Captions are encouraged.

Met with my Korean tutor tonight. We got to talking about movies.

"Oh yes!", my tutor told me. "We've been watching lots of movies! DVDs."

"Like what?" I asked. "What was the last one?"

"Single White Female."

I laughed. I thought that of all the movies in Blockbuster SWF was a random one to pick out. Plus, it's pretty old. You gotta reach deep in the racks for that one.

"Really? With Bridgette Fonda?" I asked.

"Oh no...not with her. It was Single White Female 2."

"There was a sequal?!"

Apparrently there was.

I don't know how, but my Korean tutor and her husband are like magnets for B-minus American culture. If it's crappy -- they'll find it.

First it was Jerry Springer and Cheaters (which BTW he still watches) and now it's sloppy seconds sequels.

He he.

Marjorie Morris just wanted to pour coffee into a canister. What she found in the package of freeze-dried coffee left her shell-shocked.

Morris, 77, of Ainsworth, found a dead baby turtle in the 2-pound package of Folgers coffee last Sunday.

"I thought it was a toy at first," said Morris, 77, of Ainsworth.

To Read More

What do you think is going on here? Captions?

At least I think I am.

I've never gone this long without blogging and I feel like so much has happened that I am paralyzed by the mountain of stuff on which I need to post. So, I say screw it. I rather just start posting again than wait for the moment when I can put up 15 million posts about random adventures.

Okay, I'm done. I just needed a moment.

My last days in London were memorable. On Friday we went to see Harry Potter (which I touched upon briefly in my last post), in what was possibly the roudiest movie screening I have ever been to (save for seeing "You Got Served", which was totally insane and included dancing in the aisles). I now know the true meaning of "The Stalls".

Saturday night (London: Day 11) started off late (as usual). We met the G.O.P.I.'s friend Tessa at a fabulous vegetarian restaurant -- Mildred's -- that I highly recommend. I feasted on the best veggie burger ever created. Seriously.

We then made our way to a horrible, horrible club in the West End that looked and felt like a satanic den replete with dense smoke and tacky music. Having escaped hell, and having helped another innocent victim (I.V.) out as well, we made our way to a bar upon I.V.'s recommendation. Turns out the place was a members only joint (I.V. was a member) open until 6am located deep in the bowels of an inconspicuous building in Soho. There was a great vibe, a very too-cool-for-school crowd and a jazz quartet playing damn good music.

But, alas, the evening was waning and the smoke was filling our lungs to maximum capacity; it was time to leave.

London: Day 12 was chill, and I was yearning for home. The G.O.P.I. and I had a last dinner at the Mango Room; the most decadent of all our meals there.


The Last Supper


The best dessert ever created. The Mango and Banana Brulee: worth the trip out to Camden Town.


Fond memories...


The coldest littlest house in England. Goodbye!

Last Observations:

1. Where are all the homeless people in London?

2. An "Off-License" = a liquor store

3. Everyone takes the freakin' buses in London. In SF, the buses are usually filled with homeless people, druggies, people who smell, people who are crazy, juvenile delinquents, Chinese and Russian geriatrics and the odd normal person.

4. Everyone hates Americans.


But, alas, London is behind me now.


Warmth! At last.


I'm settling back into my routine here in SF. It's amazing how going away (even for a short amount of time) can make you appreciate all that you have (like heat). And I've been inspired. I've decided to explore more of San Francisco.

I've been living here for almost --gasp!-- 7 years but there's still so much to this city I haven't yet seen. I get caught up in my routine, and working and living in the same neighborhood has prevented me somewhat from getting out of the Mission and into other nooks and crannies.

I'm looking forward to getting into all those secret, dark places.

p.s. Sorry I've been remiss in posting. I'll be doing so daily again now.

London Day 9 basically consisted of this:


It was cold, I was freezing and, on top of it all, I had to work. One day I'm going to figure out a way not to have to work every single day of my breathing life. And, while I try more often than not to get out of it, I even have to work on the weekends if I have a deadline. Argh. It's a catch-22. Because I can work from almost anywhere, I can go away a lot. But everywhere I go, I have to work. So was my Thursday passed here in London.

At least I made two very delicious meals.

Day 10 was a lot more exciting. I worked during the day and made all my deadlines. I was supposed to meet the G.O.P.I. at Tower Hill downtown so we could do the Jack the Ripper walk. But take 2 was unsuccessful. I had to finish something up and ended up leaving the flat late which, thanks to the London underground, brought me to our designated spot almost an hour later than anticipapted.

And since I have no cell phone, Gopi had to wait for me outside in the freezing night. When I finally reached her, the tour was long gone and she was frozen into a popsicle. I was a bad friend.

After apologizing profusely and coming to terms with the fact that the Jack the Ripper walk just wasn't meant to be, we decided to make to best of it and go to the Tate (are you happy now Ziggy?)! We had some time to kill until the big event of the evening and we needed to warm up.

So we made our way to Monument, walked over the extremely well designed Millenium Bridge and over the Thames River to our new destination: modern art.



I'd like to say that the exhibits were fascinating and gave me new interpretations of art itself but, alas, I cannot. We did the Tate in 10 minutes tour. =). Maybe I'm a jaded New Yorker, but I wasn't that impressed. Plus, I'm not a big modern art fan preferring pre-Raphaelite and Oriental period work to anything else.

But I was impressed with the hot chocolate. Yum. AND the cafe makes a mean, if not terribly overpriced, cup of tea. And the Tate bookstore was fabulous, providing me with an outlet at which to do all my gift shopping. Excellent!

After dropping way too much money at the shop, we went in search of sustenance.

We passed the Globe Theater:


And walked back over the bridge:


to make out way to Tottenham Court Road, otherwise known as the seventh circle of hell. Do yourself a favor and avoid this area at all costs. I believe I've discovered where all the binge drinkers in all of London are as where all the obnovious tourists and American exchange students are lurking.

We found an "Indian" restaurant called Spice! Spice! (I think it was more like Bangladeshi food) that ripped us off big time. But at least we didn't starve.

Call me a dork, but I really want to see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire whilst here in London. And I was *very* excited to do so. I had been trying to buy tickets on-line for days and was thwarted at my every attempt. Film listings were hard to find and when I did finally locate the theaters at which to see the film, found where I could buy tickets on-line, punched in my credit card info and crossed my fingers-- it gave me an error! Damn. If I find 8 pairs of tickets charged to my account, I'm going to go ballistic. I mean, what do you have to do around here to get yourself a simple pair of tickets to a film? Forget it -- I don't want to know.

Well, we finally did see Harry Potter. It was the last show (midnight) at what seemed to be the biggest (at least the craziest) theater in all of London, the Odeon Leicester Square. It was insane. I suddenly felt much less dorky as hundreds of other people were also milling about trying to see Harry Potter as well. While waiting in line and fearing tickets may be sold out, two young women approached us and asked us if we wanted to buy their extra tickets. Perfect.

I guess they do assigned seating at this theater. So we got seats in the Stalls, the ground floor of the theater (translation in terms of high school: the bleachers). This may be the rowdiest movie screening I've ever been to. Half the people were drunk. Scratch that -- 75% of the audience was drunk everyone was in "high" spirits.

I think Gopi and I may have been in the thick of it; the people around us were shouting and cheering and yelling out their fav characters. It was like being at an actual sporting event. It was incredibly fun!

When we exited, there were lights shining on the maple trees in the park right outside the theater, making it seem like hundreds of twinkling stars were falling down on you as you exited. Beautiful.

We caught the bus back home (more on this later) and were entertained by a group of drunken yet well-meaning guys singing, of all things, Karma Chameleon, line by line. They were quite good actually and put a smile on all the other passengers' sleepy faces.

What a night.

My last days here (they include going dancing, going to a secretive members only bar and more good food) and the rest of my observations will have to wait, unfortunately, till I get back to SF on Monday.

Until then.

Day 8 of my London trip was culinarily oriented.

After rousing ourselves late into the day having gone to bed at 4:30 in the AM, we did some work, a load of laundry (it should be noted here that the friend's flat does not have a dryer due to her flatmate's heat stingy ways) and before we knew it, it was time to go out to dinner.

I had to get some more $ on my oyster card (what you use for the tube and can also use for the bus), so I went up to the cashier behind the inch thick bullet proof glass and asked politely for a one way to Vauxhall. But I perhaps I've spent too much time with my new French friend Joel, because I had pronounced it as if the "Vaux" rhymed with "faux". The guy behind the counter was all: heh? I repeated myself. "Heh?" again he asked. Finally, I said Vauxhall properly, rhyming "Vaux", with "fox". "Oh, yes", he said as the people behind me rolled their eyes at my disgustingly tourist ways.

The fare came out to 2.10 pounds. I handed him a 20 pound note. He took it. A moment later he handed it back to me. I slid it back his way. He "ignored" it. I waited a moment, thinking he was just asking me to "hold it" a bit longer so he could get himself together and then he would, naturally, ask for it back again. But, no, nothing. So, like we're in on something, I take it back. A moment after that, he hands me my change: 15 pounds and then some. And then gives me back my re-filled card and a receipt. I walked away confused and waiting for a policeman to arrest me.

But no one came with the cuffs. Not even when I passed a whole bunch of cops at the Vauxhall station, when my heart leapt up with a tinge of fear, was I accosted. So, basically, I received a 15 pound ($30) gift from the British government. Yay! I consider it my 40 acres and a mule; reparations for 500 years of colonial rule. Dinner was paid for.

We had reservations for 7 at the Bonnington Cafe,


a really cool, cozy and tres bohemian vegetarian joint in



that used to cater to squatters in the area, specifically at


The space was warm(!) with luscious red painted walls, a roaring coal fire and the sweet sounds of Nina Simone wafting over us. The kitchen is run communally and every night there is a different chef. Tonight a woman named Tricia was cooking. The food is inexpensive (2-3 pounds) and tasty!


the menu

The notorious G.O.P.I and I ordered the cheese and herb fritters with onion relish which were absolutely yum



and our friend Ani, a Ph.D student at Goldsmith's in urban cultural studies, had the spicy corn chowder


For dinner we had the chili:


and for dessert we had the baked pear with chocolate sauce and creme fraiche



I enjoyed it immensely.

Ah, there is nothing like a leisurely and delicious dinner. It is one of the finest things in life. I would recommend this place to anyone who lives here and definitely a place to hit up if you're visiting. It's just a few blocks away from the tube and the rail.

Observations:

1. "Dessert" is called "pudding" here. This could, in part, explain the confusion of our weird hippy friend from the other night.

2. Over dinner we discussed the differences between British pub culture and cafe culture. San Francisco is very cafe-oriented. Three times to one you ask something to coffee or even tea over a beer, especially if it's in the middle of the day. This is not to say that you don't ever ask a friend to go to drinks, but more times than not, you go to a cafe instead. Unless you have a drinking problem of course. I have four top notch cafes in a one block radius from my house. Perhaps you'll recall a previous post about my frustrations about trying to find a suitable cafe in London. I thought it was just my lack of knowing, but Ani (a born and bred Londoner) confirmed that there aren't really that many cafes around these parts. People congregate and socialize in pubs, of which he is a lover. But what if you don't really drink and hate smoke, what do you do then? I asked him if one could go to a pub with friends and just order a coffee or tea and he told me "Yes, but it would be kind of weird." Gopi added that the drinking and noise is not conducive to conversation or intellectual discourse. You certainly wouldn't feel comfortable sitting there reading a book for 5 hours undisturbed. Ani wholeheartedly disagreed. What do you think?


Okay, my tummy's full and it's time for bed!

p.s. thanks for all the comments guys -- yay!

I've been driven to drink.




Okay, not really. After a day of "working" on some reviews, I went to meet the Gopester at the Tower of London for the Jack the Ripper walk. It's a full moon which would have contributed to the spookiness level, and it would have given us an opportunity to discover seedy parts of the city.

I gave myself a hour to get there (suppossedly, the trains are always late and they are slow; mayhap they could benefit from our Japanese neighbors?) This, however, proved too short of a time. We were a few minutes late and the group had already departed. Damn them and their timeliness.

But, all was not lost! We decided to go for Sri Lankan food instead, which I have never had. The Gopes took me to Sekara. This place is great and I highly recommended it. We had vadai (deep-fried crunchy, spicy lentil cakes), which are very different from Indian vadai, chili paneer (spicy cubes of Indian cheese), which melted in our mouths like little drops of sheer yumminess, and ten string hoppers (steamed Sri Lankan noodles) served with kiri hodi (coconut gravy) and pol sambola (grated coconut with lemon juice and spices)- see pic below.


yum.

It was all so good! And since it was my first time, being a Sri Lankan food virgin, it was even more special. However, besides the food of course, the best part of the meal was this:



It was like they knew I was coming and god giveth them a heater for my behalf! It wasn't even in the back or anything, it just so happened to be right next to the table at which we were seated and was directly behind my seat.


I may have moved it a little closer...

The manager was giving me strange looks as I was clutching the sweet heat to my bosom, but I was desperate and no amount of looks, suggestions, verbal threats, police warnings, and jail stays would have made me let go of that coveted heater.

The heat and food were so good, we just couldn't get ourselves to leave. So we closed the place down. Eventually though, the evening beckoned us.

We were in need of dessert, so we called our French friend Joel and we all met up at Oxford Circus. Apparently Joel thought we were joking about actually getting dessert and assumed, with the air of a Parisian, that by "dessert" we naturally meant "drinking" and "dancing". So...we went to the Bar 101.



A chic little joint with mean bartendars and a DJ that was spinning some serious plastic. In the spirit of things, and by the suggestion of some of my faithful readers, I ordered a single of Glenfidditch neat. Granted it was the measliest single ever poured, but it did the trick.



Everyone was just sitting around and drinking, but the music was just too good to stay seated for long. So, inspired by our new friends hanging out in the adjoining booth:



We got up and got down:





Joel schoolin' one of our friends in the international art of dirty dancing. We may have momentarily frightened him off.


mood shot 1


mood shot 2

International drug moment of the night:

The lights have come on. The bartenders are cleaning up. And everyone is re-layering themselves for the weather outside when one of new friends comes over to us with his palm outstretched, offering us four white tempting pills. The Gopes and I look down at the pills, look around, look down at the pills, look back up at the guy. We hesitate.

Us: Um....

Possible druggy friend: They're mints.

Us: Oh - hahaha. (though still not taking them)

Possible druggy friend: It's okay. Not drugs. Mints.

We took them cheerily laughing about how we thought he was giving us E, and why he was doing so at the end of the night, and when all the lights were on at that.

Afterwards, all liquored up, breath freshened and hyped from the excitement, we ambled our way down the darkened London streets.







The Harold and Kumar moment of the night:

We didn't know where to go and what to do. At this point it was 1:30 in the morning. I still wanted dessert but we didn't know where to go. We were frozen in indecision. This moment of indecision happened to take place in the middle of a divider of a four lane thruway. Good times.



As we were standing there looking confused and lost, a weird hippy in a seated bike- powered rickshaw ambles over to us. We asked him if he knew of any places open at that time where we would be able to get dessert.

Weird Hippy Rickshaw Dude: You could go to Chinatown.

Us: There's dessert places in Chinatown?

Weird Hippy Rickshaw Dude: You can get a duck and rice dish for 5 pounds.

Us: ...

Weird Hippy Rickshaw Dude: There's also veggies and rice.

Us: What about dessert though?

Weird Hippy Rickshaw Dude: Oh, there's no dessert.

Us: ??

Weird Hippy Rickshaw Dude: I could take you there for ten pounds.

Us: (we look at each other and then at the seat of the rickshaw which was only three feet long and would hardly fit a fourth grader with a book bag) No thanks.

Weird Hippy Richshaw Dude: (gives us a disgruntled look at then ambles away, the sound of the musak he had piped into the rickshaw fading into the night)

On our way again heading towards Angel


where our friend Joel lives (he's still convinced that "dessert" means "wine" and is trying to get us to go back to his apartment -- scene of the toilet paperless bathroom posting from last week -- for drinks. And all I can think about while he was making the suggestion is that I hope he has toilet paper now). We then pass by one of his friends' flats and we notice their lights are on. So Gopi decides to throw stones at their window to see if they are awake and in need of company.


In front of the flat.

Meanwhile, I was on the phone and didn't know what exactly was going on. All I see is the G.O.P.I. standing in front of a Starbuck's with a stone in her hand, posed to throw it. I thought she was going to throw the stone and in a moment of anti-capitalist revolutionary spirit, was going to smash the windows of the establishment. I started yelling for her to stop and they we are going to get arrested if she continued and blah blah blah. If this didn't wake the neighbors, I don't what did.

Long story short. Friends did not respond to stone throwing (Gopi missed the window entirely) and so we rang the doorbell multiple times, woke them up, they were like WTF it's 3 in the morning, and then we ran away giggling like little school children.

More walking ensued.


cool sign.

By the time we reached Angel, Joel was about to fall asleep on his feet. Wine was reprioritized for sleep. The Gopester and I made our way home, sleepy and satisfied.

Another long night behind us.

Okay, I'm having a much better time of it.

I'm going to approach this little trip (what's left of it: 1 week) as more of a personal retreat rather than a vacation, which is how I had looked at it in the first place. This will prevent me from getting unnecessarily stressed out about not "doing enough". This week is a time for me to get away from my normal day to day activities and overloaded schedule and just chill. This means no running around, time by myself and lots of thinking. So far, so good.

Observations:

1. I've noticed that people here (at least the ones I've run into) listen to a lot more radio than in the States. By radio I mean BBC stations, the American equivalent to AM news radio, not music stations which recycle the same lame pop music over and over again until you want to kill yourself. Although, there's no real comparison as the BBC programming makes every U.S. news station look like some nerdy, awkward 14-yr. old kid fiddling around with electronics equipment in his parent's basement (although I must recognize NPR, which is the bomb, but still shrinks in comparison). There are several BBC stations and the programs are all over the place. I wonder how this affects the national culture and psyche. Americans watch a ton of TV, which would make us more visual, I guess. If Brits listen to more radio, does that mean they are better at listening? After being here and listening to so much radio, my ear is definitely being re-attuned...

2. The milk in London seems fresher.

3. My friend here has to pay 40 pence ($.80) for hot water at her school (Goldsmith's). I suggested that this may be because of the cost of the cup, and she said "no". She brings a thermos to school and that is the cost of the water alone. Mind you, this is heated up tap water.

4. Greek yoghurt is extremly tasty.

I wish I could say that I did a lot of fabulous things today, but I cannot.

Finished a crappy book I have to review. Started another crappy book I have to review. Froze my ass off, roommate of friend found me shivering under a layer of shawls, took pity on me and turned on the heat. Did some grocery shopping at a Turkish/Greek place at which I didn't recognize 60% of the goods (it was educational) . Went to a bakery and got some cookies. Had a really yummy dinner. Was supposed to go to the Swaminarayan mandir here in London, but plans fell through. Was going to go dancing but plans fell through. Blah Blah Blah.

mood: dark.

After a yummy breakfast of fluffy scrambled eggs (the G.O.P.I. imported to me the long sought after knowledge of how to make fluffy scrambled eggs, mine always come out hard and dry. If you want to know the secret, let me know) and tart kiwi fruit, we made our way out and about in actual DAYLIGHT. I was worried there for a second that I was turning into a vampire. The jet lag seems to be wearing off.

Upon the recommendation of one of the gopester's roommates, we decided to explore Crouch End (where the hilarious Shaun of the Dead was filmed). This is a really cool neighborhood surrounded by San Franciscan-like hills and has a real villagey atmosphere. Lovely. For those SF-based peoples, I would say it's very much like Noe Valley.

Here's a pic of the clock tower on the square. I think it's older than our entire country.


There's a really cool health food store, lots of people with kids, a million hair salons, cute yet over-priced boutiques and a bunch of welcoming cafes/bistros. Our goal: the World Cafe. A place we were told we could sit for hours on end and read/talk/chill; San Francisco has a huge cafe culture that has ruined me. I've been searching for days for the British equivalent of my beloved haunts and the World Cafe has fit the bill. After exploring the neighborhood and doing some shopping, we sat in the cafe for literally 5 hours and they were totally cool with it. At 10pm we made are way over to the Oboe...


where we indulged a apple pecan crumb pie and drank some tea to warm ourselves up.


We never made our way to that weird circus party. We were chillin' in Crouch End and were not up to the 1.5 hour trek to the venue. It takes an hour to get anywhere here, at least when you live in North London it does. But, it's probably for the best as here are some pictures we found on the organizers' site from previous events...



I think we may have been scarred for life had we gone to this thing...


So, we then made our way back home where I got to indulge in my love of looking at/into people's houses. Not in a voyeuristic way, but in a curious, wondering about humanity, writerly kind of way. Do you know what I mean? All the doors had stain glass designs and the smell of firewood wafted through the air and maple leaves were scattered about the ground in fluffy piles and crunched under our feet. The evening was cold but not freezing. It was quintessential autumn -- my fav season.

Living in SF for the past 7 years has deprived me of this season of seasons, and I had forgotten how much I had missed it! Sigh.

Here are some pics from our evening walk:


the neighborhood by night


a weird sign


the world's smallest car


playing in the leaves

Observations:

1. For a people famed for their politeness, Londoners don't seem to be big on the term "excuse me". No one I have encountered thus far says "excuse me/pardon me/move" when they've walked pass me or my friend to get by, rather preferring to just shove past us without even saying "sorry". It's weird. It's like it didn't even occur to them that they were bumping into us and being rude. But maybe shoving into someone's shoulder isn't considered rude here. It certainly isn't in India.

2. It's cold. San Francisco has once again ruined me. Not sure if you recall a previous post in which the friend gave me a list of items to bring for the trip, but she was right. Her house is freezing. Sometimes I think I'm better off outside. Her roommate is seriously cheap with the heat (it only gets turned on around 7pm and only for 30 - 40 minutes) and she doesn't allow us to turn on the gas furnace. (It should be noted here that I keep a space heater near me at all times in SF, and it never get below 50 degrees there, it's in the 40s here.) I am constantly wrapped up in my shawl under many layers. I'm thinking of getting a hot water bottle to keep me company. Help!

3.

which one of these doesn't fit in with the others...


Random thought of the day: what's the difference between muesli and granola?