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.