ADVENT!!!
9 years ago
Sunday, 30 March 2008
Cotswolds
I went to the Cotswolds for easter and that happened to be one of my favorite weekends in a long time. having tea in a manor, dripping guiness in a pub built in 1293, eating duck confit, and playing lots of scrabble with some of my fav people here all summed up a most beautiful, and relaxing weekend.
Boat Race
The annual Oxford-Cambridge boat race (rowing) took place on Saturday. In typical fashion, the weather was miserable to say the least. high winds, heavy rain, and grey skies all day long. This, however, did not dampen the spirits of the revelers who came to the river banks to watch the race by hammersmith. I got home late from the football game and between showering, changing and going 2o mins north of town, I almost missed the race. as a matter of fact, I arrived just as the bell was rung to indicate that the rowers were about to pass where we were camped out. Overall, I thought the whole thing was a bit of a letdown (the weather contributing significantly to this assessment) but I did enjoy the tea and biscuits we had after the race at a local pub!
one of the other things I have enjoyed while been here is getting introduced to new music. I had the privilege of seeing Eric Appaoulay play last night at the halo lounge in battersea. 2 weeks earlier, I had gone with some folks to see a friend of a friend, Iona Mclean (fantastic voice), and she had Eric Appapoulay on guitar while she was on vocals. I remembered walking away and thinking how awesome it was to have a human being make a guitar talk and that I had to see his next show, hence Saturday night at the halo lounge. I highly recommend this fantastic musician if anyone comes through London.
I forgot to explain why I don't tell people I live in Chelsea anymore. Well, basically, I get 2 sort of reactions from people I tell. My friends here and coworkers always say "oh, that's very posh" to which I just kind of smile and nod stupidly or strangers look at me and think I am actually in finance or a celebrity. ok, maybe not always but often. When I got assigned to Chelsea by my work, I didn't realize it was like the Greenwich village of Manhattan but hey, I am not complaining. I just keep my mouth shut.
Today was excellent weather. blues skies, warm dry winds, a laziness in the drift of the clouds. My plan was to catch up the national geographic photo exhibit at the natural history museum but I ended up reading the Sunday papers in the park and that was so worth it! I cant wait for the weather to change. Granted, I have always been a four season's person but I don't think I have looked forward to spring this much in a long time. I am especially reminded about this when I wake up to birds chirping outside my window every morning.
Exciting!
one of the other things I have enjoyed while been here is getting introduced to new music. I had the privilege of seeing Eric Appaoulay play last night at the halo lounge in battersea. 2 weeks earlier, I had gone with some folks to see a friend of a friend, Iona Mclean (fantastic voice), and she had Eric Appapoulay on guitar while she was on vocals. I remembered walking away and thinking how awesome it was to have a human being make a guitar talk and that I had to see his next show, hence Saturday night at the halo lounge. I highly recommend this fantastic musician if anyone comes through London.
I forgot to explain why I don't tell people I live in Chelsea anymore. Well, basically, I get 2 sort of reactions from people I tell. My friends here and coworkers always say "oh, that's very posh" to which I just kind of smile and nod stupidly or strangers look at me and think I am actually in finance or a celebrity. ok, maybe not always but often. When I got assigned to Chelsea by my work, I didn't realize it was like the Greenwich village of Manhattan but hey, I am not complaining. I just keep my mouth shut.
Today was excellent weather. blues skies, warm dry winds, a laziness in the drift of the clouds. My plan was to catch up the national geographic photo exhibit at the natural history museum but I ended up reading the Sunday papers in the park and that was so worth it! I cant wait for the weather to change. Granted, I have always been a four season's person but I don't think I have looked forward to spring this much in a long time. I am especially reminded about this when I wake up to birds chirping outside my window every morning.
Exciting!
Monday, 17 March 2008
Change!
“33 million infected globally. Over 3 million orphaned. 8,000 people will die today. Something needs to change”. As I heard Karen Warren highlight the statistics of HIV/AIDS globally in her presentation, I met the figures with my initial skepticism about the need for change and how we can be part of the change.
From Barack – the country is ready for change; to Hillary – we need experience not change ; to McCain – progress not change; to Tupac – I see no changes! ; everywhere I turn, even here in London, most of us are clamoring for but not signing up for change.
Karen’s message struck a chord that got me thinking not so much about political change but of personal change (or progress or experience depending on what camp you’re in). Basically she was arguing that life shouldn’t be about the next pair of shoes for ladies or electronic gadget for men but about that stranger on another continent in pain and crying out for help. That life is not just about advancing my career at my current job by taking a highly selective transfer job with my company or driving a new initiative that will make more money for everyone. Huh? I mean I know it’s not about the money but who doesn’t want to be admired or recognized in whatever job we do? Basically, I am supposed to strive to make someone’s life better regardless of whether or not I get the credit publicly. And then God, who sees all, will see what I do and dispense his rewards to me?!?
Actually, no. She argued that in reaching out to others we find ourselves, our purpose and we find God. Hmmm, interesting.
So, coming from NYC where any sort of religious talk is looked down upon as backward-thinking or close-mindedness, I have worked fervently to ensure people don’t see a semblance of that in me. But this lady was presenting a different idea that I have wrestled with the past two years. I want to believe that this life is more than the next buck or adventure or relationship. I want to believe in God. To believe the vacuum in my heart can indeed be filled by something bigger and greater. To believe because no one has been able to reconcile the concept of time (whence we started and when we end) or space (what is outside the Milky Way? And whatever answer you have - what is outside of that?).
Anyway, I figured I can take the six months I am here to try and figure out a few “small” questions and if I cant right now, I might at least blab about the service (or lack thereof) here in London. So a few folks (actually four expats and my first visitor) were out to drinks last Saturday at a pub and I asked a mate from America how he’s found living in London the past 18 months. He likes London but strongly believes that change is necessary in the service industry. He started off on a scooter but in about ten seconds was like an 18-wheeler. Basically, the service sector in London sucks was the summary. Unlike in the America where your local waiter/waitress gets paid less than minimum wage and have to make up the rest through tips and are therefore forced to give good service (sometimes), the opposite it true here. No one cares about how well you’re served because they all make at least minimum wage. As an example - here in London, every bar or restaurant has this mobile credit card swiping machine, which once they swipe, takes about 45 sec to process the transaction. It is not uncommon to go to a super crowded bar, order a drink about the same time another patron’s card is being swiped and have the bartender proceed to wait for the 45 sec transaction to go through, and the receipt is signed before pouring the next beer. In good ole United States of Capitalism, the bartender will be processing 3 cards, switching the bar TV to sportscenter, doing a shot with the patrons, while pouring 2 drinks- all in the name of that extra tip. No wonder no-one in London can appreciate T-pain’s song “…I like the baaarrr-rrrtender”
Seriously though, since that day I have noticed how everything really is much slower and not efficient in this place. I can perhaps be a part of global change by volunteering on an HIV/AIDS initiative, perhaps push personal change by opening my perspective to engage faith and believe God, but when I think about change to the London service sector, I will admit that it has on occasion made me ascribe limits to Gandhi’s call to “be the change”.
From Barack – the country is ready for change; to Hillary – we need experience not change ; to McCain – progress not change; to Tupac – I see no changes! ; everywhere I turn, even here in London, most of us are clamoring for but not signing up for change.
Karen’s message struck a chord that got me thinking not so much about political change but of personal change (or progress or experience depending on what camp you’re in). Basically she was arguing that life shouldn’t be about the next pair of shoes for ladies or electronic gadget for men but about that stranger on another continent in pain and crying out for help. That life is not just about advancing my career at my current job by taking a highly selective transfer job with my company or driving a new initiative that will make more money for everyone. Huh? I mean I know it’s not about the money but who doesn’t want to be admired or recognized in whatever job we do? Basically, I am supposed to strive to make someone’s life better regardless of whether or not I get the credit publicly. And then God, who sees all, will see what I do and dispense his rewards to me?!?
Actually, no. She argued that in reaching out to others we find ourselves, our purpose and we find God. Hmmm, interesting.
So, coming from NYC where any sort of religious talk is looked down upon as backward-thinking or close-mindedness, I have worked fervently to ensure people don’t see a semblance of that in me. But this lady was presenting a different idea that I have wrestled with the past two years. I want to believe that this life is more than the next buck or adventure or relationship. I want to believe in God. To believe the vacuum in my heart can indeed be filled by something bigger and greater. To believe because no one has been able to reconcile the concept of time (whence we started and when we end) or space (what is outside the Milky Way? And whatever answer you have - what is outside of that?).
Anyway, I figured I can take the six months I am here to try and figure out a few “small” questions and if I cant right now, I might at least blab about the service (or lack thereof) here in London. So a few folks (actually four expats and my first visitor) were out to drinks last Saturday at a pub and I asked a mate from America how he’s found living in London the past 18 months. He likes London but strongly believes that change is necessary in the service industry. He started off on a scooter but in about ten seconds was like an 18-wheeler. Basically, the service sector in London sucks was the summary. Unlike in the America where your local waiter/waitress gets paid less than minimum wage and have to make up the rest through tips and are therefore forced to give good service (sometimes), the opposite it true here. No one cares about how well you’re served because they all make at least minimum wage. As an example - here in London, every bar or restaurant has this mobile credit card swiping machine, which once they swipe, takes about 45 sec to process the transaction. It is not uncommon to go to a super crowded bar, order a drink about the same time another patron’s card is being swiped and have the bartender proceed to wait for the 45 sec transaction to go through, and the receipt is signed before pouring the next beer. In good ole United States of Capitalism, the bartender will be processing 3 cards, switching the bar TV to sportscenter, doing a shot with the patrons, while pouring 2 drinks- all in the name of that extra tip. No wonder no-one in London can appreciate T-pain’s song “…I like the baaarrr-rrrtender”
Seriously though, since that day I have noticed how everything really is much slower and not efficient in this place. I can perhaps be a part of global change by volunteering on an HIV/AIDS initiative, perhaps push personal change by opening my perspective to engage faith and believe God, but when I think about change to the London service sector, I will admit that it has on occasion made me ascribe limits to Gandhi’s call to “be the change”.
Monday, 3 March 2008
broken legs and heating coals
Before getting on the airplane last week, I picked up a copy of the international tribune and was shocked to see the rapid motion pictures of the compound fracture and full dislocation of Eduardo da Silva’s foot last Saturday. Eduardo, the brave, highly talented Arsenal forward, was rushed into surgery and experts revealed later that if not for the immediate attention he got, his foot could have been amputated. All this while playing soccer at the highest level here in the UK (and thus the world). So you can imagine my strong desires to not miss this weekend match. Not because I wanted to see more gore but to see how my team will respond to adversity.
Back home in NYC, for an extra $44 a month, I got fox soccer channel “bundled” with other useless stations and this enabled me to watch most premier league games (English top flight division) every weekend. My close friends in the NYC knew how much I cherished a weekend of football and my dwell magazine. And oh, how I was looking forward to watching the game this Saturday only to discover that here in the UK they severely limit the games they show on TV so as to keep the “atmosphere” of going to the real games. I say BS!
Since I wasn’t going to catch the game at a pub, I figure I might as well play the game itself. Fortunately, through my mate (good friend in brit-speak) whom I met in NYC, Ryan, I was able to find a team rather quickly and enjoyed a day out with the lads; runni
ng, hurting and generally just bringing the pain to our opponents. My favorite part was not so much the game but at the pub we went to after. I caught a picture of this dog asleep on the bar floor. Its that dog that you see playing poker in every picture used to depict the traditional bar scene – the dogs around the table, smoke hanging loose in the background, single light bulb oscillating and casting a glow on the grim dog faces… you get the jist. Anyway, it took something that simple yet vivid to ram home the fact that I WAS in London now not America.
A few beers later, I hightail to spend some time with my mate and his wife at their winter BBQ
out in Brixton (south of the Thames). Brixton to London proper is like Brooklyn to Manhattan. I got to discuss (with a PhD candidate) the ramifications of the often undocumented gypsy holocaust that was overshadowed by the Jewish holocaust because of the sheer numbers but supposedly proportion-wise was worse since the gypsies were almost wiped out as a people. It was a good diversion from the previous 10 mins were a bunch of us had spent half an hour trying to light coals to grill our exotic meats only to realize that we were using home heating coals not grill coals.
So little things are cementing my shift in consciousness of my environment
s - The night before, I had gone to a Chinatown restaurant with some buddies from b-school who now live in London and after trying the 100 yr egg (an egg buried underground for a year but called 100 yr egg...huh?), I was ready to get some fresh air. As we walked out, this polish (I think) bike cab driver decided to impress us with a Willie. For those of you who grew up on BMX’s and Raleigh’s, you know it took a while to get a willie going, but this cat leaned left and then right in a split second and was able to keep the bike cart on 2 wheels for the length of block. Totally impressive. I ran after him trying to get a picture cos I
know the drivers by Columbus circle in NY will (a) not try this (b) and it if they did, will dump the passenger in the horse poop all around the lower central park lane.
Anyway, the general jist is that I am settling in quite nicely, staying busy with work, discovering different delicacies around my area and making friends through work, church, sports, and pubs and generally on the street.
In my next update, I will let you in on why I have stopped telling people where I live.
Back home in NYC, for an extra $44 a month, I got fox soccer channel “bundled” with other useless stations and this enabled me to watch most premier league games (English top flight division) every weekend. My close friends in the NYC knew how much I cherished a weekend of football and my dwell magazine. And oh, how I was looking forward to watching the game this Saturday only to discover that here in the UK they severely limit the games they show on TV so as to keep the “atmosphere” of going to the real games. I say BS!
Since I wasn’t going to catch the game at a pub, I figure I might as well play the game itself. Fortunately, through my mate (good friend in brit-speak) whom I met in NYC, Ryan, I was able to find a team rather quickly and enjoyed a day out with the lads; runni
ng, hurting and generally just bringing the pain to our opponents. My favorite part was not so much the game but at the pub we went to after. I caught a picture of this dog asleep on the bar floor. Its that dog that you see playing poker in every picture used to depict the traditional bar scene – the dogs around the table, smoke hanging loose in the background, single light bulb oscillating and casting a glow on the grim dog faces… you get the jist. Anyway, it took something that simple yet vivid to ram home the fact that I WAS in London now not America.A few beers later, I hightail to spend some time with my mate and his wife at their winter BBQ
out in Brixton (south of the Thames). Brixton to London proper is like Brooklyn to Manhattan. I got to discuss (with a PhD candidate) the ramifications of the often undocumented gypsy holocaust that was overshadowed by the Jewish holocaust because of the sheer numbers but supposedly proportion-wise was worse since the gypsies were almost wiped out as a people. It was a good diversion from the previous 10 mins were a bunch of us had spent half an hour trying to light coals to grill our exotic meats only to realize that we were using home heating coals not grill coals.So little things are cementing my shift in consciousness of my environment
s - The night before, I had gone to a Chinatown restaurant with some buddies from b-school who now live in London and after trying the 100 yr egg (an egg buried underground for a year but called 100 yr egg...huh?), I was ready to get some fresh air. As we walked out, this polish (I think) bike cab driver decided to impress us with a Willie. For those of you who grew up on BMX’s and Raleigh’s, you know it took a while to get a willie going, but this cat leaned left and then right in a split second and was able to keep the bike cart on 2 wheels for the length of block. Totally impressive. I ran after him trying to get a picture cos I
know the drivers by Columbus circle in NY will (a) not try this (b) and it if they did, will dump the passenger in the horse poop all around the lower central park lane.Anyway, the general jist is that I am settling in quite nicely, staying busy with work, discovering different delicacies around my area and making friends through work, church, sports, and pubs and generally on the street.
In my next update, I will let you in on why I have stopped telling people where I live.
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