The grey skies are finally clearing, fun activities are appearing, and after 6 month of life here - I actually have friends. Most of them are American which pleases me just fine - and I think things are serious enough to give them names (or code names, for the sake of their priv-acy).
This was the first weekend in a long time that I spent the entire weekend with others as opposed to alone. I almost had forgotten what that was like.
I also realized I was getting around London without the map app for the first time. I'm really learning my way around this rainy place - which is quite an achievement I feel.
After a literally crap week, I decided the weekend was going to need to be really superb to keep me from boxing up my room, quitting my job, and getting on the next flight to New York.
So Friday night was Fiesta night!
A fellow American friend, Shanna and I decided to celebrate Cinqo de Mayo a week late by attending Happy Hour at a "Mexican" joint in Convent Garden. I say Mexican with quotations because when steak frites is on the menu just under the tacos, it's not exactly authentic. I was, however, impressed with the quality of the margaritas and my burrito - even though there was cauliflower in it.
We recruited some of our American-enthuiasts friends to join in the celebration.
Like our friend Jonathan, who just got back from a 3 week holiday in the US driving down Highway 1 in a red convertable. He also made it over to Vegas, to a baseball game, and daily trips to Pinkberry. He came back shouting from the rooftops that we have the best country in the world.
2 Americans, 2 Brits, 2 pitchers of margaritas. Things got silly.
I've found it is impossible for an american and a british person to have a conversation for more than 5 minutes without someone cocking their head in confusion and asking, "what did you just say?"
Whether you're talking politics, weather, food, traveling- there are just so many things that don't add up to make it through without demanding clarity.
I've also confirmed that as amusing as I find them and their interpretation of the english language - they find me and my "American accent" even moreso.
I came out of Friday night with 4 new things to add to my British/American diction-ry, and a hangover.
dressing gown - men, not just women, refer to their bathrobe as their dressing gown. And they see nothing strange or comical about it.
plaster - for reasons completely unbeknown to me, this is what they call a band-aid.
the splits - although this sounds like either a dancemove from the 1950s, or a rare disease, "the splits" refers to the split stretch - you know, that ballerinas do. They are addressed together, and to be able to do the splits is considered quite an achievement.
full stop - a full stop is a period. Like the mark (.) Apparently if you say period in this country it only refers to the female cycle - and people will think you are both completely mad and inappropriate for saying it aloud. Period.
Saturday was my weekly Exhibit visit.
After Barrecore I headed out Burlington Gardens to the Hermès: Leather Forever Exhibit.
After lusting over Louboutin's last week, I thought moving from shoes to handbags made logical sense. If only Phillip Teacy had an exhibit I could go to next week...
Now of course I adore Hermès because they are Parisian.
But I always sort of dismissed them, thinking there is no point in my life where I will ever be able or willing to drop $10k on a Birkin or a Kelly. But after seeing this exhibit, I think anything Hermès is #1 on my dream list. A keychain perhaps? A scrap of leftover leather? I think I'd even be willing to pay for their signature Orange box.
The exhibit began with a large room full of crayola-colored hides hanging from the walls, draped over chairs, and covering tables, and neon colored ostrich and alligator hides in the corner - it was like a bizarro graveyard of animals.
After that was room after room of enviable arm candy! But better than seeing the rows of Kelly bags, was watching a graduate of the Hermès Academy saddle stitching one up in front of your eyes as she explained every step and answered questions.
The things I learned were mind-blowing!
Each bag is entirely hand-made and sewn by 1 person. They are the only person allowed to touch that bag from start to finish, and it is stamped with their personal ID when they are finished. A bag usually takes about 2-3 full days of work to make, depending on the complexity. The Kelly is the most complex - and simply learning how to make one at the Hermès Academy takes a full 11 months. Holy wow - right?
But my favorite fact is that a Hermès bag can only be made in Paris, bien sur.
So yes, the price tag on these works of art may be exorbitant, but given the craftsmanship, and the quality, and the fact that they are entirely French - I really think they're worth it. I mean, what is better than a Birkin?
Pics were illegal - but I managed to snap a few.
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| Lovely leathers and Kelly handle construction |
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| Hermès began in Parisin the 1800s outfitting horses |
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| That's one big bag |
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| Experts at work |
The best bit about this exhibit however, is the price tag: Completement Gratuit!
Maybe they hoped the savings would encourage people to buy something at the exhibits "gift shop" over on Bond Street....
Sunday was yet another lazy Sunday...
Woke up in the late afternoon.
Called my friend Kris, just to see how she's doin'.
Hello, what up Kris?
Yo Anna, what's crackin?
You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?
BARRECORE?!
Man, it's happenin'
Sorry. I couldn't resist a Lonely Island Parody. I spent too many hours at Saturday Night Live.
I did wake up in the late afternoon though - and we did go to Barrecore.
20th class in a row. If you're wondering - I now have muscles. Small, barely visible muscles - but muscles none the less. I can do press ups - and hold a plank without my whole body shaking.
After class we went for superfood salads and a leisurely walk through Brompton Cemetery with Kris's Yorkie named Herbie - who is possibly the cutest thing in the world.
Brompton Cemetery is home to the tombs of many old Englishmen, including Peter Rabbett, Jeremiah Fisher, Mr Nutkins, Mr Brock, and Mr McGregor.
Sound vaguely familiar to any Beatrix Potter fans out there? Miss Potter lived near the cemetery from 1863 to 1913, and rumor has it these tombstones were the source of the names of her characters. A bit macabre, but interesting.
I eventually made it over to South Kensington where I grabbed dinner at Le Comptoir with some friends from HTB after hearing Judah Smith put a whole new spin on the story of Zacchaeus. Judah is an American (yay!) pastor from City Church in Seattle and brought the church down with his sermon.
Even though I realized several of the best references went right over the heads of the colored-trouser-wearing guys around me, everyone was loving him - and I had great fun explaining some of the jokes to my Brit friends afterwards over Baba Ganoush and grilled Haloumi.
So on that note - are you ready for things to get really cheesy?
Because I have to say - that sitting at the table outside on a semi-warm evening by English standards, laughing with a group of people I can now safely call friends and arguing over the correct pronunciation of "pita," I finally felt like I have a life here.
And after 6 months, to finally have that feeling - well that may just be better than a Birkin.
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