On Holiday

My "holiday" was officially begun!

And by holiday, I mean both the English use of the word for vacation time, as well as Christmas, cookie-baking, present wrapping, carol singing holiday time.

Tomorrow morning I fly back to the US - assuming they let me on the airplane with the amount of baggage I have due to the loads of goodies I am bringing home with me!

Mince pies, jams, tea, tins of biscuits, and several stocking fillers and proper presents for all the Americans I love.

I have never had so much fun Christmas shopping as I did this year! Typically, I am searching and searching for the right things for people - and not able to find something I really am excited to give. But this year, thanks to places like Oxford Street, King's Road, Portabello Road, and Spitalfields Market, I have managed to find truly brilliant gifts for everyone!

I had a jolly good time doing one final sweep in Selfridge's Food Hall last night.

There are really some spectacularly scrumptious looking things in there! Counters of gourmet food, shelves of shortbread and homemade conserves, and even a Pierre Herme - which had the most beautiful Christmas tree I have ever seen on display.

I picked up a macaron of corse. Salted caramel with a coconut mango creme.

Boy oh boy, was it ever nice.

I had some fun just shopping through the aisles, finding uniquely English things.

Like this...

While getting lost among the "Terribly Clever Oaty Crumble and other delights, I found the small "Foods of America" section, which in its entirety was this...

This is what people think of us Americans?

That our speciality is boxed mix - because we are too lazy to actually make anything from scratch.

The French section has artisanal croissants, foie gras, and crepes; The Italian section handmade, fresh pastas and sauces; the American section - Betty Crocker.

Is there really nothing that America can do better than anyone else aside from boxed cakes?

I remember the American food store in Paris I went to once to find Cheddar Cheese had tons of Betty Crocker as well. They also carried gold fish and Cheese Wiz.

So, we've got that too I suppose. Fish-shaped cheese crackers, canned spray cheese, and boxed cakes. It makes one so proud to be an American, doesn't it?

I am excited to return to the land of Lady Liberty though! The next ten days are going to be the first solid week and half of no work since July. Which may not seem that long to you, but seems like ages to me given that I was simply not meant for the working world. Even though I love my job - the loss of my 9-5 freedom kills me softly every weekday.

My office is closed the entire week between Christmas and New Years. Only our London office, if I was in New York I'd be expected at work bright and early on the 27th - but the building our showroom is in closes, so we physically can't go to work! Yay! The week off we get is actually much less time than most Londoners are getting. About half of the showrooms on our floor closed Wednesday, and won't be back until January 3rd. I tried emailing one of my French clients on Monday, and promptly got his auto-response saying:

"I am off eating cheese and drinking wine and enjoying myself for the next 3 weeks, and wouldn't dream of checking my emails or doing even the slightest bit of work, so definitely don't try to contact me again until January 10th . Joyeux Noel"

January 10th! For real. The other bit I embellished, but the 10th bit is real.

That's when Paris is back at it. Ohhhh, how I love the European lifestyle. Their economy may be sinking into the Mediterranean, but at least they enjoy life.

And in just a few short hours, I'll be enjoying life to the maximum in my cozy house with my wonderful parents and boyfriend and friends!

I can guarantee I will be not be writing a single word while I am on holiday. I will be much too occupied with watching old movies and decorating cutouts and eating many, many, many of my Aunt's amazing peanut butter buckeyes.

So, I wish you a very Happy Christmas and a brilliant New Year from London!

Cheers to 2012!

Keep Calm and Carry On

A little research told me that this poster was initially produced by the Ministry of Information in 1939, at the beginning of the Second World War. It's message was intended to strengthen morale in the event of a wartime disaster. While over a million were made, they were actually rarely distributed and never became popular until one was re-discovered in an old bookshop outside London in 2000.

Today, this poster is possibly more iconic of London than Big Benny! Hung on every inch of the city, it has become the motto of jolly old England.

The Bagehot column in The Economist explains it's new-found popularity because it "represents nostalgia for a certain British character, an outlook that taps directly into the country's mythic image of itself: unshowily brave and just a little stiff, brewing tea as the bombs fall."

I couldn't have said it better myself. It's not just that the English are the way that they are naturally - it's also that they strive to uphold that image: their properness, their manners, their pomp and circumstance in everything - whether it's as small as sipping tea or as large as fighting a world war.

As I've been wandering around, I've noticed it on just about everything from doormats to teapots to boxes of biscuits. If you can dream it, there is likely a "Keep Calm and ______ about it.

Here are some examples:

This is literally in every shop window at the moment.

As is this...

This is a perfect gift for an Anglofile

This was on a (rather mean) birthday card for an elderly person

And the nicer option...

For brilliant card for a Bride-to-be

One for the desperate job seeker

For the pregnant woman who doesn't want little boys

A great gift bag for that person who returns everything you buy them

My personal favorite adaptation of the phrase...

But I have a sweet spot for this one as well

"Keep Calm and Carry On," is so quintessentially English, its not at all shocking that it has become so popular.

I think the phrase also serves as good words of advice for us Americans overseas - especially us New Yorkers. We who hail from "the city" are a different breed. We want what we want, and we want it now. And nothing will stop us from getting it. We're rude. We're impatient. We bump into each other on the street and don't stop to say sorry - because neither of us has time to, and neither of us cares. We're used to a fast-paced life of convenience and things being open 24 hours, 7 days a week. And when it's not - we panic and find someone to complain to until it is.

But across the pond - life is different.

It can be a bit of a culture shock at first when you are not prepared, and not used to things a bit, well, difficult.

So what do you, as a New Yorker, when you need to stop and get some Advil after work - but the drug store closed at 6 (and they don't even have Advil) ?

What do you do when it takes 1 week to open a bank account, 1 week for your debit card to be mailed to you, and then another for the pin code to arrive?

How about when the nail salon doesn't accept walk-ins, ever, and you're in desperate need of an emergency mani/pedi?

What do you do when nowhere in the whole city aside from Starbucks has Splenda?

When by 8 o'clock, every Pret-A-Manger and other take away place in London is closed and you're starving?

Or when you have to wait 30 minutes in the cold for a night bus, because the tube is shut down and there isn't a taxi in sight?

The answer is simple really. You "Keep Calm and Carry On."

You put the kettle on, keep your chin up, and mind your manners. You accept the situation and that you cannot change it, and carry on with whatever it is that you're doing.

Or if you are me, you "Keep Calm and Eat Cupcakes."

Because any difficult situation in life can be cured with a little frosting.

Exploring the East

Weekends in London have become an obsession of mine. I leave my flat at 9am and don't return until every possible place I could be has shut their doors, and physically kicked me out of their establishment.

Today I decided to venture out East to Shoreditch and Old Spitalsfields Market. I have spent most of my time in Central and West London, and a bit up North - but had yet to explore the East, and didn't want to leave for Christmas with a whole region unseen by my eager eyes.

I must say that East London is pretty freaking cool. It is so different from the other areas, it has a much more urban, art-sentric, hipster vibe that sets it apart.

It's very comparable to New York's East Village vs. West Village actually. I've been living, working, and hanging out largely in the West bit of London. Quaint, cobblestone streets lined with expensive boutiques, gorgy department stores, lovely tea salons and patisseries - much like wandering down Bleecker Street. But heading East, things get a bit off the beaten path. The shops are mostly one of a kind and full of things by local artists, the clothes edgier, there is not a Starbucks in sight. It oozes cool.

I got off the tube at Liverpool street and was a short walk to the Old Spitalfields Market. On Sundays, the market is totally devoted to arts and crafts - clothing, jewlery, furniture, vintage furs, bags, art - and of course - food. Because what would a market be without amazing food?

This market was not your typical market where every 3 stands sells the same junk - every stall was unique, and sold really amazing handmade or reworked vintage things. I got the last bit of Christmas shopping done in no time! I was smart enough to save my appetite for the market - so I promptly found my way over to the food stalls upon arriving for some brunch.

Oh, how to choose...

coconut donuts

selection of tasty pastries

fromage at Androuet

When I stumbled upon an outpost of Androuet - I nearly wet my jeggings.

I did not know this existed outside of Paris! Holy roly poly - I am SO excited that this is here for my delighting for the next year!

Androuet, if you don't know, is the most amazing fromagerie in the world. From Paris, of course, and utterly (pun intended) wonderful in every way . It is the Bergorf's of stinky, French cheese.

Connected to the shop is a little outdoor restaurant where one can order cheese plates, fondue, and....wait for it..... RACLETTE!

I turned green with envy as I watched people sitting with their little raclette ovens and boards of potatoes, legumes, and charcuterie, indulging in cheese heaven. I wanted to grab a table and join them - trust me I did - but I decided a meal at Androuet was something far too special to experience alone. So I am waiting for a certain someone with fabulous hair and a newly formed 6 pack of abs to come in January and feast on cheese with me.

I decided to go the healthy route - since I honestly cannot remember the last vegetable I ate. I stumbled across this fab looking Caribbean health madness stand with giant bowls full of crayola colored salads and spreads and ordered up a wrap, which was freshly pressed and prepared before drooling self.

I do not know what was in this thing - I do not need to know. All that matters is that it rocked my tastebuds. I have never tasted some of the flavors that were wrapped up in that whole wheat goodness. It was a choice well made.

I wandered from stall to stall chowing, and admiring all the awesome clothes, funky jewelry, and unique art at the market. It's so special to find things that you literally can't find at home. I picked up some wonderful presents, and some delicious samples from the other food stalls. I went into Montezuma's a total of 4 times to keep getting bits of their sinful chocolate. I didn't allow myself to buy any - because we all know how that would have ended. Me passed out surrounded by a sea of foil wrappers with a chocolate food child in my belly.

Hours of exploring later, I left Spitalfields and headed toward Shoreditch High Street, where I came across BoxPark.

BoxPark is this amazingly cool pop-up mall. It's quite big, and all the shops are little boxes, made from recycled shipping containers. It has a lot of nice labels and funky stuff by local Brits, and some cute little restaurants and take-away places scattered throughout as well. It is unlike anything I've ever seen, and a totally new shopping experience that is just plain cool. The shoppers and shops alike are very hipster - but not in annoying, Brooklyn hipster kind of way.

I had alot of fun wandering through the boxes checking out the goods and stopping for a fresh mint tea. That's right - I sip tea now. With my pinky up, too.

I had no idea Shoreditch would be so cool - I felt like an idiot for being here for a whole month before seeing it! Apparently one of the area's claims to fame is that it was home to "Jack the Ripper" back in 1888. I had NO idea that Jack the Ripper was in fact a real person before today - or that he was a serial killer of women. I suppose now I'll have to add "From Hell" to my list of London-themed movies to watch. I'll put that right below the Disney Classic, "The Great Mouse Detective," and the box-office smash, "Winning London" starring the Olsen Twins.

My dinner plans took me from Shoreditch to Knightsbridge, where I met Jax and Josie at Bar Boulud for a little Christmas company dinner. I love Daniel Boulud and all his restaurants because - duh - he is French. I hadn't eaten since my wrap at the Market, so I was conveniently starving.

So...

1 verre du vin rouge + 1 frisée salad, with poached egg, chicken liver, duck confit, lardons and sourdough croutons + 1 volaille rotie: grilled chicken breast, with caramelized ceps, carrot purée, swiss chard and spiced cranberries + 1 peppermint coupe with flourless sponge, hot chocolate sauce, peppermint and chocolate ice cream later - I was pleasantly full and oh, so happy.

I don't really eat proper meals anymore, especially dinners. So when I get the chance to sit in a lovely restaurant that specializes in French cooking and the tab is on someone else - I like to indulge.

Josie brought Christmas Crackers to make it an official party. These are a true, English Christmas tradition - and the ones she brought had the Union Jack on them to make it even better. You pull them apart and there is a small little firework, and inside is a trinket and a paper crown, which you then must wear for the rest of the evening and look like a proper fool. Ours also had a little paper inside with a joke on it.

Mine was, What did the bald man say when he received a comb for Christmas?

Thank you, I'll never part with it.

That's British humor for you.

So the jokes may be crap, but inside my cracker was a mini mending kit on a keychain! Quite brilliant actually as I always find myself in need of a needle and a spot of thread! It was such a nice little Christmas surprise! Josie got plastic hair barrettes and Jax a reindeer stencil. Clearly some crackers have better trinkets inside than others.

So my last weekend in London before heading back to the US was all around fab and marvy and brilliant. I got all my Christmas shopping done, explored new bits of London, and stuffed myself like a Thanksgiving turkey. I've got 4 days left until I head home, so you can expect a few more Christmas adventures to come as I continue to get lost in London.

It's A Wonderful Life

You may find this very hard to believe - but before tonight I had never seen the "It's A Wonderful Life."

Shocking, I know. I adore old movies and have seen most of the notable ones many times. I have a particularly fondness for black and white movies, especially when they involve holidays. So how this Christmas Classic slipped through the cracks all these years, I do not know.

But after a full day of shopping the tourist-packed streets, checking off my Christmas list - I was totally exhausted and happened upon the Curzon Theatre in Mayfair. The Curzon has been there since 1934! The enormous screen and theatre that seat 400 is nothing less than gorgeous. It's primarily an art film house, showing a small selection of artistic films, Operas, Ballets, and select old movies. Instead of popcorn and soda the concessions included champagne, chocolates, and mince pies. It's a classy, old-fashioned joint and I love it!

The 8pm showing of "It's a Wonderful Life" seemed like destiny.

Seeing a movie that wonderful for the first time was so, just, brilliant! I felt like I felt the first time I saw "Gone With the Wind" when I was 16. Like my life had been changed.

It literally has everything I believe in wrapped into one perfect film: Heaven, angels, true love, friendship, family, giving, morals, kindness.

I laughed, I cried - of course. I left with a heart full of joy, and just feeling so good about life.

I don't understand why it has a reputation of being a sad Christmas movie, because I have never felt so wonderful as I felt after "It's A Wonderful Life."'

Earlier in the day I floated in and out of the shops on Regent Street and in SoHo picking up a few "parcels" and "stocking fillers" for the people on my Nice List, and discovered yet another amazing department store: Liberty.

Liberty first opened it's doors in 1885.

1885! It's so fun just how old everything is here! In 1885 the Statue of Liberty was just arriving in New York - and London already had a killer department store.

Liberty has this amazing tudor facade and the inside is so wonderfully old that the wood plank floors squeak as you wonder in a state of awe from one lovely to room to another. They are known for their beautiful, floral-print fabrics which are famous world-wide, and their fancy stationery and "diaries."

Having a fine, leather-bound diary with your initials embossed on it is very important here. By diary, I am referring to a yearly planner, that's what the English call it. So when planning a meeting or dinner with a Londoner, they will often say, "hold on, I've just got to write it in my diary," or "make sure you bring your diary so we can arrange something" and it's very strange and confusing when you think they mean a diary full of secrets and feelings and nonsense thoughts - like mine is.

After exploring the 4 floors of Liberty, I decided that London officially has the best department stores in the world. Even better than Paris - which coming from my lips, is truly saying something. Between Harrods, Selfridges, Harvey Nichols, Fortnum and Masons, and Liberty - they really have outdone all the other cities of the world. Touche, England.

They also definitely win for the top selection of cards. I picked up all my Christmas cards today, and rather than desperately trying to find one that was nice, I spent nearly an hour in the shop trying to choose between the hundreds I loved. This was my favorite...

"Trod on me" is the main reason I love that card.

I ran all day on the quarter loaf of apple and plum bread that I got bought this morning at the outdoor Market in Duke of York Square. I always start my Saturday off there, and get something nice to nibble for breakfast. This morning I went for this...

For your sake, I wish that picture was a scratch and sniff. Or scratch and lick, actually.

This woman wakes up at 4 am every Saturday morning to bake all her breads fresh for the market at 9. She had little samples of the different types on a tray, and the smell alone called to me from across the street. Mango bread, apple crumble, coconut, blackcurrant and berry, ginger and fig! Deciding which flavor to buy was like trying to choose which color of Repetto flats I'd pick if I ever decide to give in to my obsession with owning some.

Photo taken in the Shoe Gallery at Selfridges

This plum and apple cake was so moist, dense, flavorful, and fresh that I can honestly say it was best quick-bread I have ever had, anywhere - including things I've made myself. I wish I had a tower of it all to myself, covered in cream cheese frosting! I'm thinking of going back and begging the woman to give me the recipe. The huge chunks of baked apples and plum, the spice cake, and the oatty, cinammony, crunchy topping! Her stand should be called "It's A Wonderful Bread."

So from the brilliant bread, to lovely shopping at Liberty, to the fantastic film, I will always remember this Saturday in London, my last Saturday before returning to the US for Christmas, as "It's A Wonderful Day."

1 Month Abroad

Today marks one month since my arrival in London. And my, how it has flown by. I can't believe that in one week I am already heading back home for the holidays.

In the month I've been here, I've already tried nearly all the English desserts in existence, visited 4 museums, found a church to call home, explored Notting Hill, ate myself silly at Borough Market, went speed flatmating, taken a cruise on the Thames, shopped in all the major department stores, been to 5 Christmas markets, biked through Hyde Park, eaten at some of London's best restaurants, found a flat to live in, seen all the christmas lights in London, been to the ballet, attended a concert at Westminster Abbey, and after tonight, went to a performance at Royal Albert Hall. Not too shabby! If only I wouldn't have been sick for two weeks, and didn't have to go to work everyday, I could have done so much more.

I suppose equally as important as what I have done, is what I have learned. Prior to coming, I really didn't think England would be all that different from the US. But after a month I have realized that England is indeed a foreign country, and that although people make think we speak the same language - sometimes people may as well be speaking Mandrin it seems so different.

One of my recent, favorite discoveries was the way in which the English use the adjective "nice."

It it used primarily to describe good tasting food. For example, today I was getting lunch and asked inquired into if the lentil soup was good. "Oh yes, it's nice."

I am a huge foodie - so I am constantly using the words delicious, insane, amazing, incredible, etc. to describe good things I've devoured. But I have yet to hear an English person say anything like this. The greatest compliment you can give something delicious is that it's "nice."

Likewise, something not tasty is "not very nice," instead of bad, or stale, or flavorless.

Personally, I think calling something that is incredibly delicious only "nice" is not actually very nice at all. Nice is like fine in my opintion, and I refer to fine as the f-word. But, that's the way the teapot steams over here, so one must go with it.

Another expressions I like is "fancy"- as in want, or like.

I.E. I fancy a cupcake.

People say this alot. For real. It's not just in the movies. So saying "I fancy something nice" is a great English sentence. Translated: I want something yummy!

You can make it even better by throwing in a "proper" and a "literally" (but you must pronounce it lit-trilly")

Alors, "I am lit-trilly starving. I need a proper dinner, where can I get something nice?"

Say it with a tea cup in your hand, and you are the picture of an English lady.

I also find it hilarious how orderly everything is. In New York, one is always pushed, jabbed, or yelled at - if not all three while walking into the subway. The station smells like pee and cigarettes, and once you are jammed onto a packed train, standing nose to nose with a stinky stranger, you encounter a variety of peddlers either begging for money, trying to sell candy bars, or attempting to play an instrument or sing in order to get some change from the riders. The whole thing is very hectic and horrible.

But not in jolly old England!

Getting on the tube, everyone walks slowly and calmly through the clean station, chins up. A nice woman warns you to "please mind the gap" and you orderly board the underground and always find a cushiony seat to sit in. There are no beggars, peddlers, or performers bothering you, just quite conversation about scones and jam. You don't have to shove through people refusing to move when you reach your stop, and when you do exit, you stay to the right on the escalator if you want to stand, and left if you want to walk. It's all quite pleasant really.

However unlike in New York, there is no fascination with Starbucks here. There are quite a few, but it's only popular among expats. So carrying around a Starbucks cup is the equivalent to plastering an American flag on your shirt. It's a dead give away that you are not from England, and so therefore you are unrefined.

The popular coffee shops are Costa and Cafe Nero. Both of which are good and have all sorts of yummy flavored things that we don't have in America - like praline and cream mochas. But there is something so comforting about the Starbucks cup, especially the holiday cup - and as a Starbucks Gold Card holder, it is really to my advantage to buy my lattes there.

I have also become a fan of the English biscuit. (If you are thinking biscuit as in biscuit and gravy, then see diction-ry).

Apparently no one does biscuits better than the English - and I believe it. Something about these plain, crumby sleeves of cookies is strangely addictive and totally delicious! I mean, they are "nice."

I have developed an obsession with Digestives and Hob Nobs. Particularly the chocolate coated ones. There is nothing really that special about them, but at the same time there is. And I don't get it - and yet I do. You'd have to try them to understand to suppose. I eat Digestive for dinner when I don't have something proper to eat. With some Nutella spread on them. Mmmmmm.

And I just keep weighing myself with the metric system and it's all jolly good.

All in all, I think my favorite thing about England is this sense of refinement that everyone and everything has. At the ballet the other night, every woman was in heels and a dress! It was wonderful. People are always dressed smart, and put together - even if they are just running errands. They sip tea, and quietly chat with their posh accents, and are orderly and helpful and polite. Being a person who is totally obsessed with an era long lost of good manners and old tradition and wearing satin gloves to the supermarket - it really is a nice existence.

So here's to one month in the UK - and the 11 to come!

I'm off to Royal Albert Hall to see Handel's Messiah sung by a choir of 500.

Cheers!

Bravo!

There is no way I'd rather spend an evening than at the ballet.

I'd choose a night at the ballet over dinner in a gourmet restaurant, over a fab party, over any other type of theatre experience in a heartbeat. There is something so magical about it, and as I sit there watching, with teary eyes and chills, my heart literally aches because I am so in love with what I am seeing.

Tonight I spent the evening at the English National Opera House watching the ballet perform the Christmas classic: The Nutcracker. It was gorgeous inside! The theatre alone was almost as elegant as the ballet itself.

I could hum along to every note that Tchaikovsky wrote from start to finish. I love the music, I love the story, I love the tutus. Growing up, I went with my family every year to our local ballet to see The Nutcracker, until I was in it myself. So it is especially dear to my heart.

I realized my love for the ballet pretty late in life, so by the time I started taking classes I was too behind to ever be any good for my age. But I devoted a few years to trying, and loved every minute I spent in a pair of pointe shoes.

I always loved the Nutcracker and dreamed of being in soloist in a sparkling tutu and tiara. Once I joined the ballet myself, I couldn't wait to have a role in the show, to wear a fancy costume and dance on the stage! My debut part, at age 11, was a "fortune cookie."

Not familiar with that part, are you?

That's because it isn't real.

It was a part invented by the company to have extra spots for children who weren't good enough dancers to be a party girl or an angel. As a "fortune cookie," I had to wear a neon yellow set of trousers, with a blue Chinese style smock that had an enormous ying-yang on it, and a yellow coolie hat. I stood near the backdrop during the Chinese Number doing tondues. If I had had a little paper fortune as part of the fortune cookie costume, it would have said "your part is shit."

I also had a very glamorous role in the other big ballet the company did, The Wizard of Oz. I got to be a palace guard, complete with a bearded mask that covered my whole face.

Eventually though, I had my time to shine. In one of our smaller, recitals I was a soloist and got to wear a tutu. A day I will never forget. The way I felt in the gorgeous, white tulle costume, with my hair pulled back in a slick bun and a beautiful headpiece made me realize at age 13 that if I could have any job in the world, it would be a prima ballerina.

They are gorgeous, they are perfect, they are graceful, and their "work clothes" are rhinestone and sparkle covered dresses and crowns! I knew this dream of mine would never be realized, especially with my less than impressive resume of roles. So since I knew I would never be the star, and being in productions is only fun when you're the star - I hung up my toe shoes, and became an avid watcher instead.

So tonight, I played that role. My heart skipping a beat with every fouette.

The Nutcracker is especially fun to watch because while the music and choreography is always the same, every company tells the story slight different. What the English Ballet did differently that I really liked, was had a little girl play Clara in the beginning, and then once she falls asleep and the dream begins, a gorgeous, prima took over the role. So it was like Clara became an adult in her dream. Then, we they got to the Land of Sweets, Clara became the Sugar Plum Fairy! It was really quite genius, an adaptation I really enjoyed.

I also enjoyed Clara and the Nutcracker getting to the Land of Sweets via hot air balloon instead of a sleigh, and the gorgeous Snowflake costumes - all silver tutus - that made the snow dance by the entire corps simply incredible.

As the lights went up for intermission, I wasted no time dashing to the empty seat I spyed in the first row of the dress circle and claiming it as mine. As I took in my new and improved view of the theatre, I noticed people around me with ice cream! Turns out, intermission is 30 minutes long, so that people enough time for a trip to the ice cream stand and bar, if they fancy. And I definitely fancied!

I popped out of my seat and went to the find the sweets! It didn't take me long to find the way with the help of this lovely sign.

"Interval Ice Creams," what a brilliant idea! The combination of ballet and ice cream was too good to be true! I love this country!

The bar was also packed with people sipping champagne while they ate their ice cream and other nibbles that were available for purchase.

They were many delicious flavor options, from blackcurrant to staw-bury but I went for Belgian chocolate.

A delicious intermission treat!

Sitting in my plush, red velvet seat, slowly spooning my chocolate dinner into my mouth and waiting for Act 11 to begin, I couldn't imagine anything better. The second half was even more enjoyable from my new and improved seat. I watched every pirouette longingly, thinking - if only I could be a Prima.

I guess if I were a Prima I couldn't have eaten chocolate ice cream for dinner though. Or anything at all for that matter. I would also not be able to wear a variety of cute sandals because of my blistered, ballet feet, and that would be very sad. Maybe there are good reasons why I was not destined to be a ballerina after all.

So I will never do a develope on the stage of the Opera Garnier or the London Coliseum, and I will always have to wear normal clothes to work instead of fabulous creations of gemstones and tulle. But at least I can dance down the streets in ballet shoes courtesy of TopShop, and let the Prima inside of me be the star of the show, everyday.

And to that I say, Bravo!

Christmas at the Abbey

Since April, I have pretty much been obsessed with the idea walking down the aisle at Westminster Abbey. This desire, of course stemmed from watching the Royal Wedding 10+ times.

The morning of April 29th I had surgery which left me literally immobile for days, with nothing to do but lay on the couch and watch the television. And the only thing on the television was the Royal Wedding. And so I watched....and watched.... and watched. BBC, E!, NBC, ABC, again, and again and again, and I became obsessed. My parents came into the room upon my 12th or so viewing and finally forced me to turn it off.

How could I not be obsessed? Kate Middleton lived every little girl's dream! She married a Prince and became a Princess, in an amazing designer gown in one of the most incredible churches in the world! Reminding us all that these things do happen!!

So since dating a prince and having a custom McQueen gown are just a bit out of reach at the moment, walking down the aisle of Westminster Abbey was as close as I could get.

I found out this past weekend that they were having a Christmas Concert tonight, and the very limited amount of tickets were, of course, sold out. But that didn't stop me.

The kind woman at the box office told me to call again in case something opened up. So, naturally, I called the box office hourly for the past few days to check in. At 5pm today there was still nothing, so there was only 1 sensible thing to do. Stand outside Westminster Abbey in the frigid cold and hope.

When the doors opened, in I charged - somehow making it to the front of the line and dodging the ticket-checking gatekeeper. I was the first person to reach the box office - and the only person to get the 1 returned and now available for purchase ticket in the North Nave, steps from the seats the choir would soon fill. I wedding marched down the aisle to my seat.

The choir began singing before they came into view. So as I sat in the Abbey, in total and complete awe of the gorgeousness and massiveness of the 1000 year old building around me, it seemed like angels had began to softly sing from the heavens - and I could hear. When the choir of 30 some little boys proceeded in, dressed in regal, red robes with ruffled white collars popping out - I had to give myself a little pinch.

What proceeded what the most exquisite Christmas concert I have ever attended. The whole thing just seemed surreal. The perfection of the voices singing in unison over the Organ, the sound floating up to the infinitely high arches of the Abbey and resonating inside me. Joining in for a verse or two of Hark the Harold Angels Sing and Oh Little Town of Bethlehem was just, so fun, and to just look around, taking in where I was and what I was listening to put an enormous smile on my face. A very special evening indeed, and an excellent addition to my Christmas Spirt week!

In other good news - I have a flat! After a month of searching, I have home in London, starting the new year. New year, new home, new city, new adventures!

About a week ago I posted a "room wanted" ad on a popular flat finding website. Something along the lines of,

"Young Parisian/American girl seeks long term accommodation (and friendship) in London. Here for work, but more interested in fun. Very tidy, respectful, Harry Potter fanatic who enjoys traveling, baking cupcakes and discussing the Eiffel Tower. Slightly resembles Rapunzel, often speaks French rather than English, and quite honestly a bit insane. Would make excellent flatmate."

Amazingly enough - quite a few people responded!

That's how I found my 4 future flatmates. Who shall remain nameless for their priv-acy, but are loads of fun and so my kind of people!

They invited out for "supper" last night so we all could hang out a bit before I decided if I wanted to take the room. They picked a place on King's Road called "Big Easy," which was the "best North American style restaurant in the UK," according to their website.

I wasn't sure if they picked this because they knew I was American and wanted me to feel at home, or if because it was actually a good place.

Ribs, mac n' cheese, jalapeno poppers, and lobster tails were among the specialities. The interior reminded me perfectly of Joe's Crab Shack - especially with all the idiots wearing big bibs with lobsters on them and grinning. Everything was delicious - and a little taste of home was actually just what I needed! When a live band starting jamming golden oldies - everything was complete. It was actually a great place!

Sitting there chowing on chicken delicious fajitas and jamming to Brown Eyed Girl, with a table of girls who are going to make excellent flatmates, I felt of a rush of excitement and relief. I found a home, and 4 new friends, and a place that serves excellent mexican food. What more could a girl want?

Besides a Prince, of course.

Happy Christmas!

Today was the last day of the Degas: Movement exhibit at the Royal Academy of Arts. So I decided to devote the whole afternoon to ballet.



I woke up and promptly put on some Tchaikovsky to listen to while I got ready. One cannot listen to Tchaikovsky and resist the urge to do a bit of ballet. A porte de bras or two at the least.
So as I was curling my hair, I was simultaneously doing some balances, slipped and burned my neck with the curling rod. I suppose this is why my career in the ballet was short lived. I've always wanted to suffer for my art - so I can check that off my list.

The exhibit was filled with paintings I had never seen, and could not tear my eyes away from. There was a whole room devoted to "The Little Dancer Aged 14" which I always secretly pose next to when I see, and wonderful old panoramic photos of Paris in the 1800s. Degas was one of the first to capture movement in his art, which was the whole study of the exhibit, and something I had never really focused on before. He so perfectly captured the inside world of the ballet and the beauty of the dancing and the costumes. I could stare at his brushstroked tutus all day.

The last bit of the exhibit was a 10 second film clip of Degas walking down the street in Paris in 1912. I watched it over and over again, taking in every detail and wishing I could walk down the street captured in the film.

Can you imagine that Paris?

If Paris today is as totally breathtaking as it is, imagine it in the 1900s. Imagine a Paris with no cheesy tourist shops, without chain stores lining the Champs Elysee and Starbucks just outside the Jardin de Luxembourg. Imagine a Moulin Rouge where Toulouse Lautrec sits in the corner sketching and drinking Absinthe. Imagine lace-glove-covered hands holding a macaron, belonging to a chic Parisian woman sitting in Laudree after shopping on Avenue Montaigne, and Hemingway smoking inside Cafe de Flore while he writes.

If only I could go back in time and experience that Paris. I think I would have been better suited for that time than today. I wouldn't blog, but rather write in beautiful, twirly cursive in a fancy journal about my afternoon in rehearsal at the Opera, and Mr. Degas sketching me as I stretched. I would have been a dancer in the ballet of course. I would be friends with all the great artists and watch the Eiffel Tower slowly rise into the sky for the Worlds Fair.

When I first saw the movie "Midnight in Paris" I was convinced that Woody Allen made it solely for me. If only we could be transported to another time and experience what life was like.

After leaving the exhibit, I came about as close as one can.
I popped in Fortum and Masons, an old department store on Piccadilly Street that was founded in 1707.

Walking through the doors, I felt as though I had stepped into a place where time stopped ticking long ago. The rich carpeted floors, crystal chandeliers, and thick molding on the ceiling make you feel like your in a beautiful home. Fine wood cases holding beautiful tins filled with loose leaf teas, and glass cases filled with candied fruit and marizpan mice fill the circular footprint of the ground level. The fine double staircase leads to beautiful floor after beautiful floor of sterling silver napkin rings and lace handkerchiefs, gorgeous glass bottles of specialty perfumes and decorative soaps, and a small collection of British designed gloves, handbags, and of course - hats, is set up like art in a museum. People were even behaving like they were in a museum. Instead of shoving and bumping and shouting, everyone walked around slowly and calmly, picking up items like they were fragile as Faberge Eggs and talking softly to each other. I've never seen anything like it.

And oh, the cards! The cards in this country are out of control.They are gorgeous, incredible, and often abnormally large. Even the cheapy ones in the grocery stores are amazing. In America we often think "oh I'll just find a dumb, cheap card since they're going to throw it out anyway," assuming you're even going to send one.

Some times we skip cards all together these days, even on occasions where cards as definitely in order. But you couldn't find a crappy card here if you wanted to. Or a cheap one! So for the rare person who loves cards, and actually still sends them - like me, you've hit the jackpot. Fortum and Masons has a card selection the likes of which I have never seen.

Every year, there is a fierce competition among my siblings for who can find the best Christmas card for my mom - a very serious card lover. I have been the reining winner of the competition for the past few years now, and lets just say that today, I secured my win yet again for Best Card 2011. Victory will certainly be mine.

Each floor also has it's own restaurant, my favorites being the Afternoon Tearoom on the top, complete with the plush, pink couches and Tiffany-blue tea trays filled with miniature scones and pots of cream that looked too perfect to be real. I cannot wait to have afternoon tea there with my parents when they come to visit in the spring.I felt under dressed to be shopping there in jeans. There is no other department store I have seen that is so perfectly persevered, and really makes you feel as though you have stepped back in time. The whole thing is just simply, wonderful.

I grabbed a quick bite before I jumped on the tube towards Knightsbridge. My church had a candlelit Christmas carol service, which finally put me in the Christmas mood.
Because of the lack of family and also snow, it has not seemed at all like Christmas to me yet, and it is only a mere 2 weeks away!

The concert was lovely, but there were a fare share of carols that I had never heard of before.
Like, "Jesus Christ the Apple Tree" and "Tomorrow Shall Be My Dancing Day." I couldn't exactly sing along to those! I felt like interrupting everyone during the service and saying,

"Pardon me, but are you sure that these are Christmas Carols? How about we sing a verse or two of Silent Night instead?"

We did sing my favorite one though, so I couldn't complain. Nothing puts a bigger holiday grin on my face and joy in my heart than singing "Oh Come All Ye Faithful" in a beautiful church with an organ accompanying and a choir leading the way. On the last note, I finally felt like Christmas was officially here.

So, I have decided that this is the Christmas Spirit week. I kicked it off with the carol service tonight, and the rest of my week includes seeing the Nutcracker at the London Colosseum, a Christmas Concert at Westminster Abbey, attending Handel's Messiah at Royal Albert Hall, A Christmas Market and Concert at the London Zoo, a Wartime Christmas 40s style party at the Royal Airforce Museum, and ending with a Carol Service at Saint Paul's Cathedral.
When I commit to an idea, I really give it my all.

So prepare for a week of mistletoe and holly, as I get very, very, jolly and experience a proper, English style Christmas!

R&R

Everyone advised me to take it easy this weekend and get some R&R.

So naturally, at 9am I was up, smartly dressed, and out the door for a Saturday full of fun!

I know I should have spent the day lying in bed sipping tea, but I think I would have actually felt sicker knowing I wasted a day of adventure being boring and lying around.

So, I headed out to Brixton to do some Christmas shopping at the Crafty Fox pop up Christmas market. It popped up for the weekend inside a cozy pub, that instead of being filled with young lads getting "pissed" (English word for drunk to the point of beyond loony) was fully of young entrepreneurs and their crafty trinkets for the afternoon! A vast improvement - if you ask me.

Everything from silver bracelets bearing teacup charms to hand-stitched ornaments in the shape of Christmas puds filled the tops of wobbly, wooden tables packed into the pub to create the make-shift market. It was quite cute, and very English.

I eventually found myself at The Tea's Knees - a pop up afternoon tea shop on the second floor of the market. What a delightful idea! All the Christmas shopping does create quite a hunger for a Christmas treat. As I approached the table of Victoria Sponges and owl shortbreads, my eyes went right to a cream-cheese frosting topped Banoffee Pie Cupcake that was simply begging to be devoured.

I suppose I should add Banoffee Pie to my diction-ry, since most of you likely have no idea what it is.

Banoffee Pie - A scrumptious pie invented in Sussex made of bananas, cream, and toffee sauce on a crushed digestive biscuits and butter crust. Sometimes a chocolate drizzle is added to take it up an extra notch on the Deliciousness Scale.

It typically looks something like this...


YUM!!

The only explanation as to why Banofee has not been discovered in America is that we are fools.
And don't go thinking it's just banana cream pie with some caramel sauce. It is so much more.
I didn't take a picture of the cupcake because I was so excited to eat it, that only a crumb remained by the time I thought to snap a photo. I suppose I will just have to go get another...

So I left the market with nothing but a bulge in my belly, and headed over to Southbank Centre to experience the Christmas Market there.

Right on the bank of the Thames, just around the London eye is a long row of little wooden huts lined in twinkling Christmas lights. A proper German Christmas market!
If you haven't noticed - I'm really into Christmas Markets. Especially when they are surrounded by beautiful sites in amazing cities. It was a beautiful, sunny day so I wandered along the bank taking in the sights and smells of the market until I crossed the bridge that deposited me right in front of Big Ben and Parliament Square.

I don't have the proper words to describe how amazing Parliament Square is. The architecture of the buildings is so incredible that I can hardly believe it's real. It really makes me want to quit my job and try to get a seat in Parliament, just so I can go to work there everyday. I wonder if they take Americans?

I also think the word Parliament is way more fun than the word Government. The US should consider switching to get more people interested. Prime Minister also sounds drastically more important than President. You can have the title President whether its for the town chess club or the United States of America, but there is only one Prime Minister. Another strike against you, USA.

I stood in front of Westminster Abbey for ages, sadly unable to go in because it was closed to tourist for the day. I found out though that anyone can attend a Sunday Service there, which I fully intend to do - and also that there is a Candlelit Christmas Concert there next week, which I must find a way to get into. It is currently totally sold out, but like that will stop me. Where there's a will - there's a way. Especially when you are a bit nutty in the head - and I'm proud to say I am.

From Parliament Square, it was a short walk to Convent Garden - which I had yet to properly explore. I passed through Trafalgar Square on the way, where I came across an interesting sight.

Easily 1,000 drunken Englishmen (and a few ladies) dressed as Santa dancing and throwing candy about like loons. Apparently all the people who were kicked out of the pub in order for the craft market to take over decided to party in Trafalgar Square instead.

It was literally chaos. Santas were climbing the Lions, splashing about in the fountain, and taking up every corner of the square. The Santa costume variety was also quite strange. I can only imagine all of the stores being totally out of stock of Santa suits for the rest of holidays. I saw everything from a guy wearing only red underwear, red body paint, and white beard, to a grown man in a red bra and fur-trimmed mini skirt. No one actually resembled anything close to a jolly Saint Nick one might find in the middle of the mall. Had I been a child, the whole thing would have been quite traumatizing actually.

Apparently the English are always looking for opportunities for fancy dress. They will randomly decide to go out dressed in costume for any plausible reason just to have a laugh. I think this desire stems from a lack of celebrating Halloween as children. By the time we American are adults, the idea of dressing up in a costume does not excite us. Especially if the promise of free candy is not involved.

Nonetheless, it was completely hilarious to stumble upon.

After spending some time melting over the cuteness of Convent Garden, I met up with a fellow ex-pat friend and headed out to Chalk Farm, a very cute bit of London up north near Regent's Park. We ducked into an adorable pub to escape the chilly night that the sunny day had become. Sitting sipping a cider beer, I felt very English. We were joined by a local - which made the evening even more authentic, and snacked on spicy nuts, aioli potatoes, and artichoke chestnut soup as we chatted and drank.

Within minutes - I had made eye contact with the cutest gentlemen in the room - a wire-haired Fox Terrier named Oscar. The owner, who clearly got groomed at the same place as the dog as evidenced by his hair style, handed over the "lead" to me so we could get better acquainted.

It was love at first sight. Everyone in the pub was eyeing my date, green with envy. I couldn't get over how brilliant it was that dogs are allowed into pubs! But Oscar was definitely a fine Englishmen who had been turned into a dog by an evil sorcerer's spell and was trapped like that for eternity. Doomed to life of dog biscuits. So, it should be allowed.

I also eventually got to chatting with the owner and his friend, who complimented my accent, and told me I had the loveliest, rosy cheeks he had ever seen. I wasn't quite sure if that was a good or bad thing.

3 cider beers later, we left the pub and walked along Primrose Hill until we reached the top of Regents Park. Hiking to the top, in the freezing cold, in my new high-heeled boots was beyond worth it, because an incredible view of London lit for Christmas lie ahead. And a moment of, "oh that's right, self, you have moved to London" happened. I still, at times, feel like I am just here visiting or that I a dreaming a very wonderful dream. But then I remind myself this is real life, and it's pretty bloody amazing.

I ended the wonderful day with nothing less than a wonderful meal. Quelle chance there was 1 teeny table open in Lemonia, a cute-as-Banoffee-pie restaurant on the street. I haven't had Greek food so good since I was on Zakynthos - and I haven't had a proper dinner, or eaten a meal with another human at the table in at least a week, so it was all around brilliant.

So after walking around London all day, in the cold, in heels, drinking, with a sinus infection and fever and cough - how do I feel?

Like a million bucks!
Actually, make that a million quid!

Proving that fun, really is the best medicine of all. Cheers!

Speed Flatmating

Wednesday night I did something unlike anything I have ever done before.

Being from the U.S., I had heard of speed dating. A bunch of singles meeting in a place and chatting, trying to make a love connection. I always thought it sounded fun in way, and funny in a lot of ways. But, since I have had a great catch of my own for awhile now- I haven't had any need to go fishing in the sea of singles.

But, when I saw an advertisement for Speed Flatmating, I couldn't resist.

I figured if nothing else - it would be a hilarious experience. Imagine my delight when I walked into the pub and found myself amongst a collection of dashing Englishmen and fellow blondies! I put on my "need a room" tag, grabbed a drink, and started to mingle!

There were a surprising number of English people there! Not Londoners, but from where they described as "miserable little towns about 2 hours north on the train." One guy, learning I was from the US, said his little town was like the Cleveland of England! I had to know how he knew what Cleveland was.

"The Drew Carey Show," he replied.

Of course, Ohio's claim to fame.

People questioned me being from New York - saying I had too nice of an American accent to be from Manhattan. Ha! I have had a few Brits tell me they really like my particular accent. One actually said "listening to some Americans is complete torture, but you sound quite nice actually." What a compliment.

I have a sneaking suspicion he was talking about our friends down South. I can't imagine "y'all" going over very big here.

Astonishingly, people don't automatically think I am American here.

I get a lot of people asking if I'm Swedish, sometimes thinking I am Candian (which I find offensive unless they are thinking I am Quebecois) and the other day when I walked out of a shop a guy said "bye", or I mean "Auf Wiedersehen."

What no one seems to realize is that I am actually Parisian.

So after mingling for a while, I realized all the "had a rooms" didn't have the kind of rooms I was after, but I stayed for the next hour anyway making all kinds of friends. Which made me think, forget speed dating, and speed flatmating - there should be a simple speed friendmaking!

It's hard to meet people in a new city, especially when you spend most of your hours in an office. Besides, trying to meet potential girl friends is much harder than trying to meet potential boyfriends.

When meeting guys, one can rely on her expertise flirting skills and hair tossing abilities. Neither of things will get you very far with girls. You need to showcase your expert shopping skills, celebrity knowledge, and bios all the various "Real Housewives" to attract girl friends.

So I'm considering going back to this weekly event, even after I've found a flat just to attempt to meet some people. I will pretend I need a flat so everyone thinks I'm there for the right reasons - but really I will just be scoping out potential friends. It's a brilliant idea.

I spent my Thursday evening in a less-crazy way.

I found out Notting Hill was having a Christmas Party shopping night, where all the stores were open late and offering festive nibbles and champagne! Count me in!

Although it was raining, I pranced from shop to shop on Westbourne Grove trying all kinds of English treats - including Mince Pies! Mince pies really should have a more delicious sounding name to properly suit the deliciousness you experience when you bite in. It's like eating Christmas! A fruity, cinnamon and spicy filling tucked inside a buttery house of golden crust and sprinkled with powdered sugar! Happy Christmas to me!

I picked up a mug of Mulled Wine in Ralph Lauren, some Laudree macaron in Nanette Lepore, a brownie bite in Melt, a flute of bubbly in Helmut Lang. It was like a trail of treats! Everything in the shops was far to expensive for my limited stash of Pounds, but I did so enjoy lusting over the silhouettes and indulging in the freebies. It was like Fashion's Night Out in New York, except it was Christmas Night Out in Notting Hill. And due to the rain, there was hardly anyone participating. I had all the mince pies to myself!

I started off this morning with a trip back to the Medical Centre - because after two weeks I am still sick, and now have pain in my forehead similar to Harry Potter when Voldemort is near.

I found it to be a much more pleasant experience this time around, so I take back what I previously said about National Healthcare being crap. I had a very nice, female, doctor who actually checked out my various organs and gave me antibiotics for my diagnosed sinus infection. 3 minutes later I payed for my £7 prescription and was on my merry way.

Forgive me for not writing much this week . Due to the sickness raging on inside of me I have been passing out in the midst of typing each night and not able to complete a full thought. But now that I have proper medicine , I should be feeling like my old, loony, self in no time.

It is crucial that I get better my tomorrow morning so that I can do all the funtivities I have planned for the weekend. A Degas exhibit, an outdoor Christmas craft market, a candlelit Christmas carol concert, and a Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows walking tour and quest around London - just to name a few.

Here's hoping all of those things will also include a mince pie or two.