Rain...

There are few things in life that I enjoy more than lying in bed and listening to rain falling on a corrugated plastic or medal roof. A few years ago my neighbors built a shed in the back of their yard. The shed is placed in such a way so that it is right outside my bedroom window. The taping of rain as it drops through the bends and folds of plastic lulls me into a calm state. I never feel stressed when I hear it.

In one of the houses I lived in London, I was lucky enough to have a similar situation. I lived in a room on the first floor (Americans would call this the 2nd floor) and my window looked out onto the roof of the dinning room. This roof was see through corrugated plastic as well. With all the rain in the autumn and winter months in London, the roof became my friend. It helped me sleep and when I was sad, it told me that I would be okay. I could sit in my room or on the sofa in the dinning room and read, think, or just listen to the rain.

Locations: San Francisco, CA, U.S.A. & London, England

In Transit...

And the time came when I had to leave. There were places that wanted seeing and things that wanted doing and people whose faces I did not want to fade away... on both sides of my life. It was not my choice though, sometimes external forces lead the way and I could not stay; England would not let me. New adventures were to be had and dreams were to be dropped into different spots across the earth to grow into ideas and places that I would later love. But I loved it there and then. I had started to grow roots and branches. I had built up life lines. I had made a world for myself amongst London's underground tube; this life was gone now.

It cannot be expressed how much I love London. It is in the way that I feel when I walk down the Southbank. It is the changing color of the leaves in Kensington Gardens. It is the the dark and edgy feel of a candle lit cafe at night time where the air radiates the notion that you are in on a secret; music rustles through the air, artists and writers lounge on worn sofas, and you overhear discussions on an unending possibility of subjects. The streets, when you leave, are full of the people that you wish you were, and it is possibility that you are becoming one of them.

Then there is the "Good-bye," the dreaded words that make me suck in my breath with a look of fear. The Good-byes are indefinite. I give a hug and then another and another till my arms feel like they won't let themselves open and then I'm pushed away to not miss a train, to not miss a tube, to not miss a bus, or a plane. Each time I move further away and look back at them and see them waving or watching and my stomach goes cold and tight like a rock that is sinking inside of myself. And I can't help but believe that I'll always be half there and half inside of wherever I am. That after a mere sum-total of a year and a half, it has become my transplant home, that I was finally starting to thrive there and become who I wanted to be.

Now I have to start all over again.

One of my London friends wrote to me:

"London is often described as a sewer, and I suppose the charm of a sewer is that the treasure is hidden in the murk and guile of its mostly voluntary residents. Do you intend to return? I'm sure you can devise a plan if you see fit.

'Going and Staying- Thomas Hardy

The moving sun-shapes on the spray,

The sparkles where the brook was flowing,

Pink faces, plightings, moonlit May, --

These were the things we wished would stay;

But they were going.

Seasons of blankness as of snow,

The silent bleed of world decaying,

The moan of multitudes of woe, --

These were the things we wished would go;

But they were staying.'

I love this, you can begrudge the lack of wind, but you must first sew your sails otherwise you will sound like this miseryguts."

Location: London, England

Let's just pop by the Prince Charles...

If you have been to London, but have not been to the Prince Charles Cinema, then your London experience is sorely lacking. The Prince Charles Cinema is an institution, with its obscenely cheap films and sing-a-long-a nights.

Sing-A-Long-a nights include:

• The Sound of Music
• Hairspray
• The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Located right in the heart of London, near Leicester Square, Piccadilly Circus, and London's Chinatown, you will find a very fun cinema.

Not only does The Prince Charles Cinema have a great selection of odd films, but they also have cheap prices.

One very fun thing to do at The Prince Charles Cinema is to go to a sing-a-long-a! I can say from experience that they are certainly quite an enjoyable experience.

Location: The Prince Charles Cinema, London, England

The East End...

Yesterday afternoon, I met my students under the 2012 Olympic countdown clock near the Stratford tube station. Only about half of the expected students arrived but the small group of us had a great time with our tour guide. Our guide led us around the 2012 Olympic building site and through the area of Stratford, east London (not to be confused with Stratford-upon-Avon where Shakespeare is from). The area has a rich history primarily beginning with the exile of the Jews from the center of London. Jews were not allowed within a mile of the city center and thus could not pass the mark called "Mile End." Buildings in the area are up to 400 years old for the most part, though there is one church that is half Tudor and half 900 years old. It was quite impressive but despite its unique history, I cannot recall its name.

The students and I, after finishing the tour, took the tube to Liverpoole St. Station to meet up with some of my fellow members of staff. We walked the students through Spitalfields Market and over to Brick Lane for a Curry Dinner.

Brick Lane is actually one of my favorite spots in London despite its often rough residents. As long as the summons to come into restaurants are ignored it is a great place. I often go to Brick Lane in the evenings after work to meet up with friends at an amazing cafe called Cafe 1001. Cafe 1001 is unique because of it's organic sandwiches, cheap healthy food, outdoor grill, AMAZING CHEESECAKE, Live DJ, and lounge setting (think sofas, pillows, candlelight).

Other amazing places in Brick Lane include:

• For amazingly cheap and outstandingly good Bagels (think 20p for a bagel!!!!): Brick Lane Beigel Bakery
  
• For an edgy haircut (where I got my fringe/bangs cut): Pimps & Pinups
• For a fabulous independent record shop: Rough Trade
• For vegan food inside of a double decker bus: Rootmaster
• For cheap or expensive(£-£££) vintage clothing (i.e. scarves, bags, boots, ball gowns, bowler hats, cravats, capes, cardigans, etc.): Absolute Vintage

All in All East London is a pretty happening place.

Location: Stratford, Liverpoole St., & Brick Lane, London, England

Tube stop hero...

While riding the district line last night on my way home from a play, a woman rushed to get out of the train at Earl's Court station. She wedged herself through the door and barely made it onto the platform. Sadly one of her high heeled shoes did not make it. A man sitting next to me had quick thinking, rushed to the door, grabbed the shoe, and when he couldn't get the door open, he opened the train window as the train was pulling away from the station and tossed the high heeled shoe to the distraught lady on the platform. He returned to his seat with applause from the whole carriage. He was everyone's tube stop hero.

Location: District Line, Earl's Court, London, England

Wonder and awe...

London is full of many strange and unusual things. In my time here, I've seen Bouncing dogs, men on stilts, women dressed as if they came through a time portal from the 1980s, men dressed as if they came through a time portal from the 1880s, famous celebrities carrying their laundry, Damien Hirst walking down the street the day after winning £111 million in his Sotheby's Beautiful Inside My Head Forever, kids running up walls, a larger than life astroturf covered outdoor living-room, The Queen, wax replicas of world leaders, army men and women covering the streets, elderly women with purple hair and Chanel suits, a lake on the top of a building... the list goes on.

There are, however, many strange things that I have missed seeing. To begin with I apparently missed the Thames Rubber Duckie Race which happened earlier this summer, this was obviously a failure on my part. I have also missed tons of other amazingly odd things I am sure. But I know that there will be loads more interesting things to come.

This week was no different. To begin with on Saturday 26th September 2008 there was a most amazing occurrence: the Great Gorilla Race! Hundreds of men and women ran through London dressed in Gorilla suits. Not only were these Gorillas speedy, they were also glamorous. Some wore tutus, some capes, my particular favorite was a Gorilla who wore a kissing booth.

Imagine, if you will, sitting on the side of the Thames. You are in front of the Tate Modern sitting on a bench listening to the beats of MGMT that are coming from a boom box owned by a pair of Gorillas who are riding inflatable horses. It is a sunny morning. You've got gooey brownies and your friends. Then it happens. You see them. One after another Gorilla's start running by. As if out of Fantasia these Gorillas rush, dance, spin, and stumble past you. What a great morning.

As if seeing hundreds of thousands of Gorillas in costumes weren't enough awe for one week, I also saw a real life pirate. As I browsed through a bookstore during my lunch break the other day I saw a man who could have been the modern day reincarnation of Captain Hook. With his eye patch and missing hand he looked a lot less hostile than J.M. Barrie's literary creation, but caused no less awe than if I had seen a crocodile walking behind him.

London is such a surreal and wonderful city.

Location: All over London, England

My weekly trip to America...

Once a week I take the bus from Notting Hill down to Marble Arch. When the bus turns the corner at Marble Arch and its doors open, I step down onto the pavement and head through the maze of streets to Grosvenor square. I cross over the zebra crossing, causing the drivers of the Black Cabs to get frustrated. Once at Grosvenor square I continue on past the barbed wire fence on my right and the beautiful Mayfair mansions on my left.

I pass the armed guards as I pull my passport, a stack of paper, and my phone out of my bag. I quickly turn off the phone, cringing when it beeps, and do not make eye contact with the guards, whose guns make me nervous. My pace quickens, and I wonder at how they can gossip while holding guns that could shoot someone dead.

After passing them I go up to the podium outside of the the security office. A guard stands next to a woman (it has always been a woman) behind the podium. I hand the woman my stack of papers, passport, and phone. She asks me if I have any other electronics or metal on me. I always tell her I don't. One week there was a man in front of me who was speaking to her first. The interaction went like this:

Woman: Do you have a belt with a buckle?

Man: Yes.

Woman: You're going to have to take that off Sir.

Man: This is like the airport.

Guard: Except that you don't end up anywhere fun.

Me: Well, if you are going to be technical about it, you do get to say that you went to America for a while.

Guard: Yeah, but the food is just as bad inside as it is out here.

Man: I'd rather go on a real holiday.

After the woman bags up my turned off mobile phone and writes my passport information into her notebook she tells me to stand behind a line. This is the part that always gets me. I am always taken off guard when the security person who opens up the security office asks me: "What is the purpose of your visit?" because it always seems so interrogatory like I was planning something horrible. As always, I state: "I'm here to drop these voting registration forms into the the US postal system," and I point to the voting registration forms in my hands. They nod and ask me to put my bag and the stack of papers in the X-ray machine and then they ask me to step through the metal detectors. They always check my bag twice. Sometimes one of them smiles at me.

I exit the security office and head into the building. I am now in America.

Once in the office I collect a number and wait for it to flash in red digital lights. I go up to the window and my conversation goes like this:

Me: Hello there. I just wanted to put these in the US postal system"

Window Man: What are they?

Me: They are international voting registration forms.

Window Man: Oh yes, I remember you. You were here last week. You seem to bring us a lot of these.

Me: Yeah, I've been here the last few weeks and I'll be here for the next couple weeks too.

Window Man: That is a lot of voting registrations that you bring in.

Me: Yeah, we've got a lot of American students who need to vote in the presidential election.

Window Man: Yes, it seems an important election for you guys this year!

(I think to myself... I'm in the American Embassy, doesn't he mean "for us this year" but the Window Man is British even if he does work in the American Embassy.)

After handing the registration forms in, I exit out of the building, go to the security office, and pick up my phone. I walk out of the door and I'm back in England.

Location: American Embassy, London, England

I seem to have fallen down the Rabbit hole...

Donned as Dina, and in the company of two Alices, a deck of cards, and the Queen of Hearts, I fell through the rabbit hole (or the Tube, rather), and landed in Wonderland. After many stares and hushed comments, our oddly assembled party arrived at SIN's "ROCKCABARET Alice in Wonderland" event. The que was long and filled with mad hatters, white queens, cards, dodos, white rabbits, caterpillars, Alices, clocks, mock turtles, gryphons, and live flowers. The que was slow and everyone was impatient to get in.

After having my cat ears checked by security, I ascended the steps into Wonderland (apparently there was no falling down involved). In the center of the first room stood a large mushroom, that was about my height. Atop the mushroom lounged a caterpillar girl who glimmered in emerald radiance, her antennas sticking out in every direction. The disco ball flashed rainbow lights across the room. The air vibrated with sound and radiated into the nooks and crannies of the space. We found men in card suits walking on stilts and mice who handed us cupcakes.

As this all went on I was discreetly handed a white card, by whom, I do not know. The card stated that the first eighty people up the stairs would be in a photoshoot. The photographer was nuts... but then again, who isn't in Wonderland? The Cheshire Cat says that you've got to be mad to be there.

When we were back down the stairs we literally helped paint some white roses red while dancing with the stilted cards to the thumpa-thumpa of the music. The mad hatter slowly took off his clothes on stage to reveal that he was Alice. Alice slowly took off her clothes to reveal that she was actually the White Rabbit... then she did card tricks.

It was quite an interesting night, but we decided to step back through the looking glass.

Location: Sin, Tottenham Court Road, London, England

That Café around the corner…

I must have walked down that street a hundred times without ever paying attention to the cafe. I had probably even looked into its reflective windows from time to time or jumped over the early morning water runoff trailing from the spot where the cafe's chairs would later sit. I am sure that I must have been listening to music or daydreaming or trying to avoid the cracks in the sidewalk. Whatever the case may be, I never saw the cafe; it wasn't there.

I never listened when anyone spoke about the cafe either. They would say it's name, "Cafe --" but I would never hear it. In the office people would come and go at noon or one or two each day, always returning from the invisible cafe. I didn't pay it any mind. I didn't give the place much thought at all really. I worked just around the corner for months and never went in.

When I finally did step into the cafe, I had the surreal feeling that I had fallen into an internet fan site or a quirky film about a neurotic collector. From floor to ceiling the walls were encrusted with framed photos of HRH, Diana, The Princess of Wales. The wrought iron outside was floral with gold leaf and pronounced the establishment: "Cafe Diana." These things should not have seemed anything more than passing quirks of a uniquely themed restaurant. Cafe Diana was, after all, only a hop, skip, and a jump away from Kensington Palace. The real strangeness of the cafe was not its stacks of photos, but instead its choice of food. Cafe Diana was a Mediterranean kebab shop.

The place smelled of the following ingredients: hummus, onions, steaming hot falafels, pickles, coffee, hot chocolate, lamb, chicken, and salt. Though not usually a pleasant combination, when combined with the wooden booths, framed photos of Lady Di, and the red trimmed windows, it really was impossible to do anything but sit down and wait for one of the staff members to hand me a menu.

Location: Notting Hill/Queensway, London, England