Six months in London: The good and the bad

Time has flown by at an incredible pace, and I find myself caught amidst the English summer. As last Tuesday was the six-month anniversary of my London move, I decided to write down a few lines about my experiences so far. Without further adieu, let me present to you my observations.

Weather

Indeed, it does rain a lot. Long periods of rain and gloom have been interrupted by only a few warm and sunny days. This summer has been deemed as the rainiest one in years, yet the weather in my home country is far worse than this with its extreme temperature changes. But dealing with the weather is all about preparing: I check the weather forecast before I venture out and carry a mini umbrella and a pair of sunglasses with me wherever I go.

Londoners
The diverse population of many different nationalities is one of the greatest things about living in London. The motto for the city might as well be 'come as you are'. 
First of all, there's fashion. You can see the most interesting fashion choices here with no one questioning them. If you feel good about your choice of attire, chances are others are fine with it, too. I love the Old Spitalfields Market on Sundays - it is full of interesting (and cheap) frocks :-)
Secondly, the diverse backgrounds of the Londoners is definitely a positive. You can always introduce yourself with new cultures or cuisines through restaurants, parties, get-togethers, or exhibitions. The current hip cuisines seem to be the Vietnamese and Scandinavian ones. I think it's safe to say that you can always find people and imported goods from your native country, which makes you miss home even less. 

Tourists
It is the short-term inhabitants that do my head in. The tourists make it hard to keep up the good spirits. They walk at snail speed and then stop in the middle of the street to take pictures of literally everything: taxis, double-decker busses, telephone booths, street performers, famous buildings, tacky shops, classic statues and structures – even post boxes.  

Money

On my daily walk to work, I join a flood of businessmen and women on their walk across London Bridge and pass half-a-dozen homeless people in the process. I have started to recognise some of the homeless from the Big Issue saleswoman to the hobo man with the cute black pup, and yet I walk pass them without ever giving them any money. The truth of the matter is I have none to give.

Living in London is expensive – even more expensive when you’re desperately trying to live on a budget and save money. Because of my strict university fee saving regime, I find myself constantly purchasing value-range groceries and walking instead of using public transportation. But the temptations are there… and it is very hard to resist an after work cocktail or a cheeky dinner with friends, and there you have it – £50 gone with the wind. It’s way too easy to find a way to spend the well-earned money. Temptations, baby, temptations. 

Lifestyle

Lifestyle in London is all about scheduling. I find myself obeying the stereotypical ‘9 to 5’ work hours and planning my days accordingly: I enter the office at 9am, work until 1pm, take an hour for lunch, get back to work and leave at 5pm. Some of my colleagues go to the gym, some commute home, and some go out for happy hour cocktails with work colleagues. Understandably, the latter usually happens on Fridays, as there is no pressure to appear sharp in the office next morning.

Scheduling is important during weekends as well. It is completely normal to only see your friends every few weeks or so, as everyone is busy and commuting within the city takes a while. Speaking of which, I have to buy a nice watch... 

Dating

Dating in London is tough. There are so many beautiful women and gorgeous men around that it is hard to make an impression on anyone. I recently wrote a blog entry about dating, and joined a dating website to see if that would help. Hardly, is the answer – the experiment did not produce any tangible results. I went on a few dates, all of which left me feeling nothing at all. Needless to say, I am no longer paying for such service. I will keep my eyes open and see if anyone eligible turns up... Surely they will, right? (And the Moon is made out of cheese...)

Beautiful boats and royals in the rain

Tomorrow is the 60th anniversary of HRH Queen Elizabeth II's coronation. To honour the reigning monarch's Diamond Jubilee, London has turned into a zone of festivities, smiles, laughter and joy. Free events have been organised for the occasion, some of which took place last week. 

Yesterday was the day of the Thames Diamond Jubilee Pageant, which saw over a thousand boats from different historical eras, Commonwealth countries and organisations sail through the River Thames. Powerful military boats were followed by cute steamboats and the Queen participated in the fun by sailing on her royal barge. 

Thousands of eager spectators occupied the riversides in an attempt to secure a good view to the river. We managed to get a descent spot close to Waterloo Bridge and enjoyed some munchies and cider while watching the activities of the river. And indeed, we saw the Queen and the royal family! Prince Harry dashed off without asking for my number though. How disappointing!

We stayed for quite a while, but left before the end as it started raining heavily. 

The Jubilee festivities continue today and tomorrow, however, I think I have had my share. I leave you with a not-the-best-quality picture of the pageant.

The royal family aboard the barge.

Looking for Prince Charming!

As a single London chick, the end of the week is always dedicated to romantic optimism. You convince yourself that this weekend, you will meet someone lovely and you will begin a beautiful journey, which will lead to expensive rings and happy honeymoons. Nightclubbing and the weekends are all about living a fairytale, from looking like a princess to attending a ball, finding your prince there and living happily ever after.

Needless to say, when you lie on your bed on Sunday morning; shaking, sweating and sipping bland tap water; you feel like an utter fool. No numbers were exchanged, no one interesting came up to you, or if they did, you cannot really tell, as it was far too loud in the bar and you were a bit too intoxicated to register their interest. Prince Charming was nowhere in sight, and neither was his second-cousin, or third-cousin, for that matter. Instead, you spent way too much money, your feet ache from wearing high stilettos, you feel like shit and the memory of all the ineligible bachelors squeezing your bum while passing you by angers you. So what was the point of it all?

Hey, at least you're going out and not staying in feeling sorry for yourself. Besides, it is fun to maintain the illusion that night clubbing is beneficial to your cause. Dressing up is fun, drinking makes you convinced you'll find that perfect someone, holding a cocktail makes you look rich and fun, dancing (even two-stepping in stilettos) burns off some of the calories acquired from drinking, and hanging out with your friends is always fun-tastic. Fun, fun, fun, right?

Last weekend, I ventured into two nightclubs in my quest of making my fairytale fantasy a reality. First up, on Friday night, was Chinawhite, and on Saturday, Jalouse. Despite their cool reputations, my intoxicated state and my alcohol-infused confidence, I did not enjoy the two places very much. The chart-topping music was hardly exciting, and the men in the club were very, very pushy and just looking to score a chick for the night. You would think that all the money you spend would be able to 'buy' you a good evening without sleazy men who ask you to join them for a 'hanky panky' and girls with fake - well, everything - but no. These places were seedy, and no fun. 

So while the fairytale illusion of meeting the prince at a ball is overtaken by sleaziness and seediness, there is hope for us chickadees yet :-) The cocktail lounge Match Bar had a really good, friendly atmosphere, and the lounge DJ played really good, upbeat tunes. And, no, you did not have to shout when talking to your friends, so it was the perfect bar for catching up, too. And yes, there were cute guys around, but I did not really get to speak to many, as we had a private booth and a private party. No sight of the Prince Charming though, but his third-cousins were there. So maybe he'll turn up at the Match Bar sometime soon... I know I will!

So no, I did not meet Prince Charming yet. As the chances of meeting him in a night club seem relatively slim, I have given in and joined a dating website. So far, it has been alright, and there are far more eligible men there than there are in the two night clubs I visited. There is a certain old-school romantic feel about sending little messages to the guys you come across there, and then, perhaps, going out on a date with them. It is quite exciting. So maybe my Prince Charming is waiting for me online instead? I will keep you posted ;-)

Sunday is the market day!

A few weeks back, a friend of mine took me out for a stroll around the Shoreditch-Spitalfields area. We walked down the Brick Lane and ventured into the narrow streets and alleyways behind the Shoreditch High Street Station, which were full of colourful little market stands offering goods from fabulous mock-jewellery to worn down WWII clothing, and from second-hand Converse boots to colourfully cheeky McHammer sunshades. "Worn down junk and overpriced retro goods" would be the apt phrase to describe these quirky goods. However, I must admit, that I whole-heartedly enjoyed the walk and the general atmosphere.

Old Spitalfields Market ( building on the left).

While I had only heard of the Camden market before, I was completely swept off my feet by the Old Spitalfields Market. After stepping in to the charming Victorian building, I was in vintage heaven. I could so easily spend all of my money there. The airy room was crowded with people, but due to the high ceiling, it did not feel as crowded and crammed as the street market. The goods were far more interesting than those of the street vendors: unique fashion with an adorable vintage touch, antique furnishings with a charming touch of the years, shoemaker's leather boots and cutesy jewellery no one else would ever have.

So today, I returned, with the remains of my previous paycheque burning a hole in my pocket. And indeed, it would have, once again, been easy to spend all my money there. Instead, I tried to be practical and only buy things I needed (read: the best deals I could find). See for yourself:

A pair of (faulty) flat ballerinas, £5 (from Traffic People)

A dress and trousers, £15 (from a market stall)

Afterwards, I ventured into a continental cheese store where a cute guy was selling cheese. And yes, I just had to buy some scrumptious little piece of hard cheese. Just because the guy was a handsome French guy, just because the cheese was fantastic, just because it was sunny out, and just because I was really happy.