Exploring Notting Hill

I have long dreamed of wondering around Notting Hill; strolling down Portobello Road, popping into the travel bookshop. Mostly due to the movie, yes, but my name is Anna, afterall - and I'm American. I am also sort of nuts - so how could I not have these fantasies?

So I began my Sunday with a lovely walk to Notting Hill from my place in Chelsea, which happened to take me right through Kensington Gardens. The sheer beauty of Kensington Gardens on a sunny, crisp, fall day was simply divine. I was in total awe as I was strolling through, admiring the cute dogs chasing slobbery tennis balls, little boys racing on scooters, and people feeding bits of bread to the loads of ducks, geese, and swans swimming around the big pond in the center.

The gardens here really are lovely. They are flat, perfectly manicured, and always filled with people enjoying them. I walked up quite an appetite, so just before I arrived in Notting Hill, I popped into Paul Rhodes, and got a little something to nibble.

My first, proper English scone.

Fluffy, chewy, amazing. Very different from our American scones. It was like eating a buttery cloud.

I arrived at Portobello Road and instantly started swooning. Candy colored houses line the streets filled with Londoners appearing out one shop with brown-paper wrapped parcels and disappearing into another. I quickly joined the dance.

Slowly I twirled into Chole Alberry to waltz around, touching everything to take in as much as I could.

Scooping up handfuls of old, exotic coins, lifting the little tops off of floral china teapots and putting them back, running my hand along the top of a vintage country french kitchen table, and wondering who E.R.S. carved into the wood is.

The days when your dreams become a reality are so wonderful. Even more so when the reality is greater than the dream itself. I remember countless moments in Paris that I had imagined and romanticized in my mind for so long, and when I actually got to live it, it was even better than I hoped it would be. I felt exactly the same way as I strolled through Notting Hill.

No trip to Notting Hill would have been complete without visiting the travel bookshop.

I was tempted to ask the girl behind the counter if she had any books by Dickens, but I figured she may not find it as totally hilarious as I did - and may not have understand that I was quoting the movie. The shop did have a variety of books as a matter of fact, not just travel books. Including a cherry-red journal with the classic "Keep Calm and Carry On" in-scripted on it. I purchased it so that I can keep it with me at all times for my au moment thoughts, and my crazier thoughts that can't be published to the world. Yet.

In other shops along the road, I got a jump start on my Christmas shopping!

They all have really unique, fun things and are truly one of a kind.

In a lovely pop-up shop, I saw my favorite find of the day, which made me think of one person and one person only: my brother Todd, a minimalist.

For only 14 Quid - as they say, I could have got him the ultimate present.

If you can't tell, those blocks have things printed on them, like "Sheep" and "Joseph." I couldn't buy it of course, but I did find it to be rather creative and budget friendly. I can't reveal the purchases I did make, because I don't want to spoil Christmas. But those of you on my Christmas list have some fun parcels coming your way!

I'm still figuring out the pounds system. The money is so fun and colorful it's hard to believe it's real. Our plain, green, American dollars are rather drab, really, in comparison.

The "notes" here are pink, shiny, and oversized! How fun!

It's also been hard to become familiar with the coins. I'm still sort of picking them up, examining them and internally wondering "what's this one do," every time I go to pay. In the US - I throw my quarters in the laundry change dish, and consider the nickels, dimes, and pennies pretty much useless. They get left in random pockets of my J. Brands and corners of my Rebecca Minkoff.

Here, I've got to keep track of my coins, as the thick, heavy, gold ones are worth 1 pound. When you get change for a note, they usually give it to you all in coins - which makes for quite a heavy change purse, and quite a confused me. I'll get the hang of it eventually I suppose.

I've also become a tea-drinker, officially. I'm sipping a nice Earl Grey at the moment - since I seem to have developed my annual trachea infection. Like clockwork - every winter my throat starts to inflame and voice starts to go. I am desperately trying to do everything I can to prevent this from happening, since I leave for Paris Saturday and would prefer not to be The Mute Parisienne while I am there. How can I order croissants and baguettes without a voice? I suppose on the bright side it would be very Little Mermaid-ish of me, and I kind of like that, since I have always dreamed of being a Disney Princess.

There is always good that comes out of bad, I believe. So if I do end up sans a voice - I am convinced a handsome Prince will come to my rescue, fall madly in love with me, and we will live happily ever after in a castle in Paris with a view of the Eiffel Tower and an unlimited supply of Laudree Macarons.

The End.

Bowling in Heels

I haven't been writing because I haven't been home by a reasonable hour for the past 3 nights. Which is great, because if there is a moment I can be out - I hate to be in! But, when I am old and grey and sometimes forget that I ever lived here, I want to have some record of what I did my second weekend in London.

Friday after work I headed to meet my friends for dinner. We were guinea pigs for the new restaurant my friend Amy's dad is opening in London called The Delaunay. They are in trial stages before their official opening, and from my first bite of spinach stuffed oysters to my last lick of chocolate, raspberry, meringue, marshmallow, hot fudge sundae - I was saying holy jam roly poly the whole night. The highlight was actually the Reisling sauce that covered my Artic Char. Basically, I could have eaten with a spoon. I think it was mostly a made of Reisling and melted butter - so how it could it not be good? Wine and butter are two of my favorite food groups.

This is going by the French Food Pyramid, of course, not the American - In which the food groups are -

Baguettes

Wine

Butter

Cheese

Pastries

Foie Gras

Speaking of Paris - I have very exciting and bon news! I am going to Paris this weekend! Which means, only 4 days until I am home!

Oooooohh la la I am so tres excited to be back in the city of my dreams! I cannot wait to go back to my favorite boulangerie in my old neighborhood and grab a croissant, hop on a velib and bike over to the Champs de Mars and cry at the sight of the Eiffel Tower. It has been two years mes amis! Two years, too long! It's going to be a weekend magnifique!

Saturday morning I kicked off the day with a Ben's coconut cookie for breakfast!

I realize it may sound like I am eating myself silly, but the weekends are for eating whatever I want, and during the weekdays I practice what little self control I kind of have. Thus, my breakfast Saturday morning was a cookie. I got the cookie hot out of the oven! The cookie man was hesitant to give it to me - he said, "it's still warm, its not fully cooked really."

"Sir," I replied, "that's like winning the cookie lottery! Hand it over!" And so, away I munched as I headed down Kensington High Street.

I eventually wondered over to the Tate when I met my friends for an afternoon of culture. The Tate is incredible, massive, and full of the craziest stuff. Like an enormous pile of millions of hand painted ceramic sunflower seeds. I cannot wait to devour every corner of it before I leave this country. When we left, we took the Millennium Bridge over to the other side of the river. This is known to Londoners as the "wobbly bridge" after it wobbled when people first crossed it, and it had to be shut down an hour after it originally opened because people nearly fell off. I think of it as the dementor bridge because in Harry Potter the dementors fly over the bridge and all the cords start snapping and it collapses while people go flying to the river.

Quite a scary bridge come to think of it.

We went for italian Saturday night, which is fun because you get to hear English people call pasta "pass-ta". It's quite hilar-i-ous. We went to see My Week With Marilyn, where I was reminded of the splendor of European "cinemas." Forget popcorn and soda, this theatre had a full bar inside for getting sloshed before and after the movie. For people who prefer a pint of ice cream to a pint of beer (like me) - there are mini ice cream cups, and an entire bulk candy area where one can mix and match a bag of sugary sweets filled to their heart's content. It's brilliant.

I ended Saturday evening with a little bowling. Despite being complete crap at bowling, I do think it's a fun group activity - so when I was invited to a midnight bowl with some people from the cast of the Musical Ghost - I couldn't say no.

Having a sister and brother-in-law in the Broadway world has introduced me to a breed of people who are simply more fun to hang out with than any other - actors.

They're loud, they're fun, they're outgoing, they randomly burst out into song and dance for no reason, they're the best. My sister's wedding was a guest list full of the casts of various broadway shows, and so the reception was like "Marriage: The Musical" - complete with a performance by the broadway boys, the wedding party being introduced by someone from Jersey Boys singing "You're Just Too Good To Be True," and a Michael Jackson dance-off between the groomsmen. Bowling wasn't much different.

I arrived a bit late, so when I joined the party I still had my high heeled ankle booties on, but it was my turn - so I was encouraged to sneak one round in my heels, and then go grab my bowling shoes. So I trotted onto the lane, grabbed a ten-pounder, gave it a throw and down came all ten pins! Strike! When I changed into bowling shoes, it was all downhill - making me think maybe I am such crap at bowling because I am so distracted by how ugly the shoes are! Perhaps bowling in heels should be allowed for those of us who prefer to do everything in style.

The only down side about fun, late nights out in London is the not so fun, late ride cab rides home for $40. The tube closes at midnight, and so you have the option of walking, or taking a private car, which is wildly expensive and there's no way around it. So since I was an hour and half walk to my apartment, I opted for car and $40 later was home safe and sound. Now granted, the taxis here are like golden chariots compared to the ones in New York - but I'll take a non-english speaking, strange-music blaring, cabbie with an bluetooth in his ear and a car that smells of halal food for $7 over a fine English chap for $40 any day of the week.

I guess some things are just better in New York.

My Evening As A Pilgrim.

The complete lack of the presence of Thanksgiving is the only thing wrong with living abroad.

This was my second Thanksgiving away from home - but my first that was going to be without Thanksgiving dinner.

To some people the whole dinner and being around family may not be all that important. But in my family, it is. We start planning next year's Thanksgiving the moment the last fork-full of pie is gone. The largest celebration to date was around 50 of us. From my late-Grandpa down to second cousin and in-laws, it was a whole family affair and it was wonderful!

Thanksgiving is really of my favorite holidays - shadowed only by Christmas itself really. Because let's face it - no holiday can trump celebrating the birth of baby Jesus. But, Thanksgiving always marks the official start of Christmas in my opinion, and is without a doubt, the best meal of the year.

The rest of the world is pretty thick, if you ask me, to not celebrate it even though it has nothing to do with their country whatsoever. You can still eat the food! As Marie-Antionette would have said, "let them eat turkey!"

So because I am completely new to the city and know not a soul here to partake in Thanksgiving festivities with, these were my options.

A: Denial. Pretend it is not Thanksgiving and attempt to ignore the holiday altogether to avoid sadness.

B: Poverty. Go to a restaurant and pay a 50 GPB prefix for a British version of Thanksgiving, that would likely be nothing like Thanksgiving at all.

C: Optimism. Attend the ex-pat Thanksgiving Potluck at Holy Trinity Brompton - the church I went to this past weekend and loved.

So, walking out of work and realizing that I either had a night alone with yogurt for dinner ahead or a night with strangers and pie, I went with choice C - optimism.

My only hesitation in going was that I feared I would burst into tears at some point. I am a crier. I have always been, and will always be. I cry when I'm happy, sad, frustrated, scared, hungry. You get it -right? I cry a lot. Just ask my boyfriend, who, after 3 years of dating me still looks perplexed when I tear up at the end of Tangled. I think my amount of tears is perfectly normal for a girl - especially at emotional moments in life - like spending your first Thanksgiving alone. And since I don't know anyone at the church yet - I didn't want my first impression there to be the strange, crying, American girl.

But I wanted to go - so I said a little prayer for courage, and in I went! My contribution - a bottle of wine. I wish I had had time to bake something, but since I made a last minute decision to go, my options were wine or jammy dodgers.

I was only standing alone for a few minutes when a group of three girls standing nearby noticed I was friendless and quickly approached to say hello. I let loose. And as tears streamed down my face and out spilled excuses of missing my family and being nervous and just arriving a week ago - I was hugged by three total strangers. And given tissues.

And while the recipes on the table weren't my sister's melt-in-your-mouth apple pie and my brother-in -law's savory sage stuffing, and there was not one familiar face around the Thanksgiving table, I had a truly wonderful meal.

So call me cheesy, because I am. But I had a wonderful Thanksgiving, and was thankful in a way I've never been thankful before.

I was thankful for the complete and utter kindness of strangers - something I typically don't think about while surrounded by my family and stuffing myself with pie. For a group of strangers to be able to come together like family, to show each other love and kindness, and to eat together the most special meal of the year - well - it brought me to tears.

And thinking about it further, it was likely the most authentic Thanksgiving I've ever had. I was like a pilgrim, really!

The pilgrims were in a new country - like me, and didn't know any of the Wampanoag indians, like me not knowing anyone in London! So if you substitute The Mayflower for British Airways Flight148, I pretty much spent the evening as a Pilgrim!

And around a table of other people who are also on their own in a country far from home, I felt like I belonged - and was deeply, truly, thankful.

The Blonde Parisienne's Diction-ry

Today marks one week in London. Only 51 left - and loads to do and see!
With one full week under my skinny belt, I'm even more glad that I decided to come on this adventure than I thought. This is truly an incredible brilliant city!

I thought it best to begin a diction-ry of new words I've learned and will be using, as well as document some of the differences I've noticed between New York and London, or the U.S. and the U.K.

Alors, I present The Blonde Parisienne's Diction-ry/Guide to the Brits.

thick - what the English use for stupid. However, usually referring to a person or a thing being thick.
I.E. A thick bloke, would be appropriate.

crisps - chips. Which does seem to make more sense since there are are, in fact, crispy. Not to be confused with chips (below).

chips - fries. A la - Fish and Chips. A very popular dish of fish fingers and fries. This makes no sense as fries are, in fact, fried and in no way resemble the shape of a poker chip or Chip, of Chip and Dale. This leads to a lot of confusiosity for me.

jelly - jello. So, telling someone here that you are American and love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches gives them a very strange mental picture of peanut butter and wiggly jello on toast. No wonder they think we are nuts. What we call jelly, they exclusively refer to as jam.

having a laugh - this does not mean laughing about something, but rather making a joke.
I.E. "Are you having a laugh? means "are you kidding me?" My English friend Amy always says this, and the mere expression causes me to laugh - but one would not say that I am actually "having a laugh" - get it?

fancy dress party - costume party. fancy meaning goofy, which is quite confusing, really. I'm not sure what they use for an actual party where you must dress fancy by American standards. Perhaps an unfancy dress party?

smart - stylish. I.E. "Don't you look smart," is a very nice compliment and not something you say only when someone tries on reading glasses. Smart is used in place of nice. Which actually does make sense when you consider the opposite terms. If you don't look smart, then you look the opposite, which is stupid. As opposed to looking mean, the opposite of nice. It is important to look smart everywhere you go in London. Which means, no more running about in my Lululemon clothes and no makeup all day. Which is really not brilliant at all.

trolley - this is not an old fashioned train you board to take a nostalgic ride, but instead a cart at the grocery store. I got quite excited when I first heard there were trolleys at the grocery store and was quite disappointed when they turned out to be plain old shopping carts. Oh well.

tick - as in "tick the box," instead of check the box. Not a little bug that is found in the woods.

top-up - refill, load. As in "top-up your oyster card." An Oyster card refers to the pass one uses for the tube, not a greeting card with animated oysters on it, as I initially thought.

snog - you must know this one. Snog means kiss. But in a make-out, wet, tongue involved sort of way, not a peck. One would not snog their mom, for example. It is also the name of a frozen yogurt chain here similar to Pinkberry. Why they chose the name - I do not know.

curly-wurly - a delicious strand of caramel covered in chocolate, which is in a curly, long strip. I also had a grown man describe one of our products at the office as "the curly wurly one"

reversy-percy - a pig-shaped gummy candy. Percy pig was apparently a character created by the popular store, Marks and Spencer, and now has a line of sweets. This is one of my favorites to say with thick english accent.

zebra-crossing - a bit of road with white stripes painted across where it is safe for pedestrians to cross without having to dodge double deckers. Crosswalks are few and far between here, so when you find a zebra crossing you are relieved! However, it is pronounced zeb-rah, and there are not actually any live zebras involved, as I had hoped.

One of my favorite differences so far is grocery shopping.
I couldn't up make things as absurd sounding as one can find in the Marks and Spencer. Like Reversy Percy, Bacon Lollis, Curly Wurly. A lot of things are also named things that describe their contents rather than a brand name

Grocery shopping is one of my favorite activities in other countries. One would assume that groceries are more or less the same, but oh how wrong one would be. I remember my first trip to the grocery store in Paris. I couldn't understand a single label, so after staring at the dairy isle for nearly 20 minutes trying to figure out which type of "creme" was a delicious low fat yogurt, I remembered that I was in Paris - where is nothing is low fat, and everything is delicious - so I grabbed one of each type and called it a jour.

What differs in England is that while everything in France sounded mysterious and appealing, all the products in London have these ridiculous names, that literally cause you to walk down the aisle laughing, making grocery shopping a very comedic experience.

I am also completely puzzled by the complete lack of trash cans, or bins as they say. Apparently, one day some thick bloke started a fire in one, and so they removed them from the streets for safety. Way to pull an Eve and ruin it for the rest of civilization! This morning I literally had to carry my empty Starbucks cup for a full twenty minutes before I came across a bin to throw it in.

That's right - there is Starbucks, and it is just as same as in good old NY except that they sell mince pies instead of bagels. I'm still not entirely sure what a mince pie is, nor am I entirely sure that I want to find out.

I'm sure there are many more interesting discoveries ahead and new words to learn and incorporate into my British vocab-lry. Two of my best friends arrive in London today for the weekend, and one of them is actually English, so she should be able to teach me loads of new things to say.

I am full of excitedosity about their arrival! Tonight we're meeting for dinner at the Wolseley, so I've been eyeing the menu to decide what delicious thing to eat. According to the website, the plat du jour is a "Daube of Beef."

Daube....?

I'll be sure to let you know when I find out what that means!

Bon appetite tout le monde!

A Proper Dinner

Eating sticky toffee pudding as I type away....

I don't know what everyone in the world is on about saying that the British have terrible food.
In the past 48 hours alone I have had quite a few beyond delicious things, starting with a toasty ham and cheese and croissant Sunday morning and ending now with a spoonful of stickiest, sticky toffee pudding.

I got up early yesterday in order to make the most of my day off. The working world has really changed my priorities and given me a whole new appreciation for the weekend, Saturday particularly. I used to sleep in until 1pm and love every lazy moment of it. Now, if I wake up past 9 I am devastated that my sacred minutes of freedom are already ticking away.

So I popped out of bed and walked over to Knightsbridge, oooing and ahhhing the whole way at the adorable shops, cafes, and beautiful bridal boutiques I passed. I always thought Paris had the best gown shops - but London may give Paris a run for their Euros when it comes to that department. One day very far from now, when I've tricked some fool into wanting to make me a Mrs. - you will find me dress shopping in Knightsbridge.

After drooling over everything in Harrods for a while, I headed over to my date for tea with my dear friend Amy's "mum" and dad. I've never been a tea drinker, but I decided to give it go, because while in London, I plan do as the British do. Except when it comes to teeth.

I've never thought tea has much taste, but turns out after you add a spot of milk and a sugar cube or six, it's delicious! And along with your tea comes a slice of cake - in this case, homemade plum and walnut dusted with powdered sugar. I could certainly get used to that every day at 3pm. Positively lovely, really.

My day of fun concluded with a visit to the Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park, which was like walking around in the little village inside a snow globe.

Is there anything better come the holidays than a Christmas Market? I think not. The tiny light-lined huts selling roasted chestnuts, sparkling ornaments, and woolly hats. The smell of waffles wafting, fries frying, and crepes cooking. The mulled wine, the sausage rolls, the bins of sugary sweets! It just makes me want to haul out the holly and go caroling.






I decided to get dinner there, since I couldn't resist the various smells enticing me. I went toward a sign for beef stew bubbling in what appeared to be a cauldron - which was part of the appeal given my obsession with Harry Potter. I also figured I needed a "proper" dinner after my croissant breakfast and cake lunch.

Proper is used instead of the word real, or actual here in England.

I.E. - A proper dinner, as opposed to eating a bag of sweets. It is an expression that has grown on me quite quickly! One just must ensure to use it properly.

Upon ordering my stew, the friendly bloke informed me they'd just run out!
No sooner did I begin a very dramatic "oh no!" than did he say, "hang on a minute - I just got to get a new pot," and returned moments later with a heaping, fresh pot - and scooped me the first serving instead of the bits at the bottom of the old one - and for the delay, threw in a chunk of fresh bread. So nice!

I have had many other friendly encounters like this one in the past few days, which already has me convinced that Brits are much nicer than New Yorkers.

Like Saturday night when I was at the movies, a group of 3 young Englishmen came in and sat down one seat away with a giant tub of kettle corn. After a few moments, the one nearest to me looked over, and passing the tub towards me said, "popcorn?"

The best moment so far, however, was scoring a free cab ride the other night. That's right - free! I left my apartment to meet Jax and since I was map-less, asked a cab driver parked on the road to point me in the right direction. He looked up the address in his "tom-tom" (what the Brits call GPS) and then said,

"you know what - I'm heading that way anyway and its not far from here - I'll take you for no tariff. We've all got to do a kindness for a stranger every once in a while you know?"

I was ever so slightly worried that I was going to get kidnapped and made into filling for a meat pie a la Sweeny Todd, but instead I flashed a smile and said,

"Oh, oui - monsieur taxi - I couldn't agree more."

Holy Jam Poly Roly

Today I was the ultimate tourist.

I am typically not a cheesy tourist activity kind of girl, but I wanted to see London - all of London, in one day. And Winston Churchill himself said "the best way to see London is from the top deck of a double decker bus."

And who I am to argue with Winston Churchill?

It was a gorgeous day here! So I started out walking towards the Duke of York Square, where I grabbed a quick bite before heading to Victoria Station to pick up the bus tour.

My first "jam roly poly," to which I bit in and said "holy shit," and then felt bad for saying shit since I hate cursing - so I've coined the new expression, "holy jam roly poly."

What is a roly poly, you may ask? I couldn't bother to take a photo before I bite into it, and then promptly forgot all about the photo as I was in strawberry-jam land until the last crumb was consumed. So I can't show you, but imagine something that tastes like pie, but resembles an enormous ho-ho. This is a jam roly poly. Which, I initially thought was a ridiculous name for a food item - but I suppose ho-ho isn't much better now is it?

My bus ride was glorious. I really want to learn my way around this enormous city so I can start biking around like I did in Paris. What was "velibs" in Paris is "cycle hire" here in London. I've very anxious to go all Bill Cunningham on this city.

I popped off at a few stops, one being Borough Street Market, which I have been dreaming of since my first visit to London 2 years ago. It is a foodie's version of winning the lottery.

Incredible, fresh, gourmet food stalls packed like sardines into a gallery underneath London Bridge . All delicious, all with samples.

I wandered in and out of stalls snacking on everything from chevre to olives, to turkish delight and lavender shortbread cookies before I finally settled on two items.

1 - Flower Pot Bread
Ingredients: Wholemeal wheat flour, thyme, sundried tom-ah-tos, cheddar cheese.

2 - Raclette
Ingredients: crack.

I'll let the pictures do the talking....










Holy jam roly poly - right?

After stuffing myself like a Thanksgiving turkey, I popped back on the bus, and took it to the Thames where, just in time for the sun to set and the lights of London to come on, I boarded a river cruise.

The Thames River Cruise was my favorite part of the day wholly because of the live "comment-ry."

Many english words are pronounced minus some syllables missing over here, like "comment-ry" instead of commentary.
And "in-tresting" instead of interesting.

What happened to the "ta" and "ter?" Are they off on holiday? Or perhaps they stepped out to have a fag.


Our guide provided a lot of in-tresting insight into the of the landmarks lining the Thames, such as there have been over 1000 weddings that have taken place on the London Eye.

To put it in his words exactly,
"You all load in there at the bottom, and then you say the vows as you climb up. When you reach the top of the Eye, you snog the bride - and then it's all downhill from there."
The combination of the brilliant pun, English accent, and silly words sent me into hysterics.

Other highlights included,

An attempt of crowd control as everyone starts to get of their seats:
"Please stay in your seats now while we approach the unloading dock."
"If you can understand me, please do stay in your seats. If you can't understand me - well then just carry on with what you're doing."

A plea for tips:
"We don't charge for the comment-ry as its only offered in English, and likely most of ye haven't understood a bloody word since I started."

In addition to the stand-up comedy show, the gorgeous views of Tower Bridge, the London Eye, and Big Ben and the Parliament Buildings were truly breath-taking.




It was brilliant, really. A wonderful first full day of fun and exploration in London! I am looking forward to many more days just like this one.

I won't go into detail about what I did after the boat cruise because I am slightly ashamed, but it may or may not involve vampires.

Dracula was from the U.K., afterall.

Foggy London Town

Foggy London town is far from foggy today! When I stepped outside to find the sun shining and not even the slightest chill in the air, I quickly un-bundled my layers and happily strolled down to my office.

From my window at my desk, I can see the London Eye and the Prince Albert Bridge, quite a lovely view while one works, if I do say so myself.

I popped into the food shop next to the harbour to grab a beverage and found myself overwhelmed with a large selection of things I cannot get in the US. My favorite of being Tropicana Orange Juice: No Bits.

I have found that "bits" seems to replace a wide variety of specific words in London. In this case, it was pulp. But I have heard several different British dishes described as,

"sort of a meaty, sausage dish with gravy, tom-AH-tos (pronounced AH-tos.) and bits.

Bits....? Bits of what!

In a country where they eat pudding made of blood it is most important to know exactly what the bits are.

But by far the strangest thing to grace the shelf was the Banana Milk. Apparently quite popular here. I'll pass on that bit, thanks.

I settled on a delicious Elderflower Presse and I foresee it being a London addiction!

While I don't want to talk about work exactly - some things must be recorded. For example, the gentlemen who walked into the showroom today with a stack of pamphlets advertising Christmas cards and handed me one saying,

"we're doing bespoke cards for Christmas this year, which you may - or may not, require."

And with a tip of his hat, he left....

What's funniest about being here is that while everyone IS speaking English, it doesn't seem like they are.

"bespoke" apparently means customized - and the english love to say "require". It's one of the words that sounds particularly English.

In other news, I called a client in Paris first thing this morning, and it was so wonderful to hear French spilling out of me again, I nearly teared up. I cannot wait to chunnel over for a weekend and go right to the tour with a crepe in hand and just stand there, soaking it in. I am planning on going just before Christmas to see all the decorations and visit the amazing Christmas Market on the Champs Elysee again!

Speaking of the holidays, after work yesterday I decided to pop over to Regent Street to see the legend-ry Christmas decorations and do some shopping. I got out of the tube and felt like I had been transported to the North Pole. I have never seen a Christmas town like London! I think the streets already look like the inside of snow globe on their own - so imagine them decked in lights, trees, and Santa!

Take a looksey, good fellow.





It's quite adorable. As if the enormous hanging stars and glittering lights aren't enough - something about seeing the double decker red buses trotting around the streets just makes me melt like butter on hot toast. I was starring around in wonderment and nearly got hit by one. In which case, my time in London would have been very short lived.

I love things that are so stereotypically (fill in the blank). This is a perfect case. You can take them all around the city. After handing over my 2 pounds 20 pence to the driver, I bounced up the stairs to the 2nd level and took the first seat from the front! I felt like I was riding the Spice Bus. I actually got so caught up trying to remember the lyrics of various tracks on SpiceWorld, that I missed my stop entirely.

And it's precisely when one is lost that they happen upon the most wonderful things.

Like an advertisement for this

I've found my activity for the weekend!

Cheers!

Lost in London

I woke up this morning with a feeling I haven't had in a long time. One of my favorite feelings in the world.

The feeling of being totally lost. Completely and utterly lost in a new, wonderful place.

Josh I had the brilliant idea of naming this second edition of my travels as the Blonde Parisienne "Lost in London" because I am truly lost.

I have been to London twice before, yes. But the first time was for 48 hours and the second, 24. Needless to say, I didn't see much and certainly never got my bearings as to where things were or how to get around town. When I moved to New York and Paris - I already knew the city like I knew my vanilla buttercream recipe. So this is a whole different breed of adventure for me.

I do have some preconceived knowledge of England, which stems from the following:

• Romantic Comedies starring Hugh Grant
• Billy Elliot the Musical
• Jane Austen Novels
• Harry Potter
• The Tudors
• The 8+ times I watched the Royal Wedding on the "telly"
  

So, based on this knowledge I am fully expecting to either:

• Fall in love with a movie star who happens to walk into my book shop
• Be accepted into the Royal Ballet school
• Find myself in the middle of an 18th century love triangle
• Discover I am a actually a wizard
• Be imprisoned in the Tower of London and then beheaded, OR
• Marry the future King of England.

I am rooting for discovering I am actually a wizard, followed by marrying the future King of England.

Anyway, what's fun about having no knowledge of a place whatsoever is, of course, discovering it. As I left my flat this morning, and made a wrong turn, wandering in the opposite direction of my office, I couldn't stop looking around at all the wonderful new things around me. The quaint charming streets lined with pastel colored doors with one oversized doorknob straight in the middle, the little girls with bouncing curls dressed in fancy coats and shiny boots. When I eventually realized I had to turn straight around and go the other way, instead of being frustrated, I was quite pleased. More time to explore before I am trapped inside a building officially beginning work.

I stumbled upon some charming things....

After fully enjoying my eye-candy filled walk down King's Road, I finally arrived at my office for the year to come.

Here is where I do not talk about my job. Since for all intensive purposes, this is only about my adventures outside of the office. But if I had to sum up my workday in one word - I would choose "brilliant!"

Afterwards, I was taken out for a welcome dinner by my two new co-workers whom I have re-named Jax and Josie in the interest of their priv-a-cy. (Yes, you must pronounce that priv-a-cy. We are, afterall, in London.)

I also think these names sound very English, and in the interest of trying to fit in here, I think talking about my friends Jax and Josie will help me get into character. And so, it was a fab night in my new city with my brilliant new mates Jax and Josie!

We gorged at a delightful little place called The Mess Gallery, located inside the Saatchi Gallery - which I cannot wait to return to and visit.



Who says British food is awful?

I had a delicious corn fed chicken breast with herb gnocchi, chanterelle mushroom ragu and a tarragon velouté at the Mess. And it was bloody delicious!

It was my first bit of real food in two days. I avoided the horrific looking English breakfast British Airways attempted to pass off as food, and ended up only having a bag of sweets that Jax and Josie left at my flat for me as an arrival treat to eat for dinner last night. Today, there was simply no time for anything besides some biscuits, and by biscuits I mean small, crummy, cookies in plastic wrap, and a Larabar I found while unpacking this morning.

Okay, so maybe British food is not the best.

C'est la vie anglais, mes amis. I know the British and French have been at odds for years, and although I am a parisienne, and I am trying to keep an open mind to like the two countries equally - I must admit:

I never went hungry in Paris.