Together with two luggages and a backpack, I brought my recurring thyroid problem to London in 2016. There have been ups and downs in the last ten years since I was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism. Bouts of insomnia are part and parcel of having a bum thyroid. Such has provided me with moments of enlightenment, and moments of despair.
Despair because, it can be utterly tiring to not be able to get some shut eye despite being tired after a day of work. It drains you beyond your spare tank, so to speak.
Enlightenment, because, it's times when you're wide awake, and the rest of the world is likely to be asleep, that some of the best tidbits of your creative outputs, tend to emerge (this is the case, at least for me).
I would still rather get a good night's rest instead of having to sleepwalk through the day, though. It's a cycle that tends to be difficult to break (especially in during the winter season).
And so, the last leg of my London journey continues. Beneath the shadows cast by Alexandra Palace in the North, I walk on.
MC
Friday, November 24, 2017
Monday, November 20, 2017
136- Curious Bear Moments: Hatton Cross
In a social media post from a few months ago, I listed down some London Underground tube station names which I thought stood out from the lot. One of the places I mentioned was Hatton Cross, a place on the Western edge of the Picadilly Line, located at the doorstep of Heathrow Airport.
Hatton Cross. I'd use it to ID a secret rebel base in some far flung corner of the galaxy- tucked away enough not to be detected even by a certain Lord Vader. Okay, I've been drinking too much of the Star Wars Kool Aid again.
After some Google-ing and Wikipedia-ing, I've discovered that Hatton Cross in the present day is the site of many industrial buildings which carry out services to the nearby Heathrow aviation hub, the busiest in all of Europe. Wikipedia says that Hatton does not have a post office, but has, you guessed it- a Tesco. I've passed Hatton Cross station a couple of times on the Piccadilly Line, but have never actually gone down there to take a look around. To date, the what I know about the location is limited to what I've read online, and what I have gathered from anecdotes from friends (my friends Patricia and Francis lived there for a while, revealing the fact one night as we shared a pint and a couple of stories in a Marylebone pub by saying, "Hey, we'll have to go ahead. We live in Hatton Cross. That's really far from here. You know, Zone 6").
I am inevitably led to compare what I see here, with what we have back home in the Philippines. The international airport in Manila is too close to the city centre, hence, making getting to the airport a real pain. Manila does not have good train and road systems due to poor urban planning (and presumably, due to the lack of funds as a result of countless corruption scandals). It's funny. We have our own "Hatton Crosses" (e.g. Subic, Clark), but no train system that goes through said locations. Seeing the world is quite a spectacle. At the same time, taking your coat and parasol and riding locomotives to strange lands can inevitably lead you to compare what you see with what you have in your backyard. That's when the tears begin to flow. Curious bear feels down once he realizes that he's been eating fake honey.
In the end, I might be hit with welcome surprises, though. We may have a mecha-robot hidden somewhere in Pampanga or Bulacan that I am not aware of. That robot may just be able to save us before it's too late.
Rambling, No Shamblin',
MC
Hatton Cross. I'd use it to ID a secret rebel base in some far flung corner of the galaxy- tucked away enough not to be detected even by a certain Lord Vader. Okay, I've been drinking too much of the Star Wars Kool Aid again.
After some Google-ing and Wikipedia-ing, I've discovered that Hatton Cross in the present day is the site of many industrial buildings which carry out services to the nearby Heathrow aviation hub, the busiest in all of Europe. Wikipedia says that Hatton does not have a post office, but has, you guessed it- a Tesco. I've passed Hatton Cross station a couple of times on the Piccadilly Line, but have never actually gone down there to take a look around. To date, the what I know about the location is limited to what I've read online, and what I have gathered from anecdotes from friends (my friends Patricia and Francis lived there for a while, revealing the fact one night as we shared a pint and a couple of stories in a Marylebone pub by saying, "Hey, we'll have to go ahead. We live in Hatton Cross. That's really far from here. You know, Zone 6").
I am inevitably led to compare what I see here, with what we have back home in the Philippines. The international airport in Manila is too close to the city centre, hence, making getting to the airport a real pain. Manila does not have good train and road systems due to poor urban planning (and presumably, due to the lack of funds as a result of countless corruption scandals). It's funny. We have our own "Hatton Crosses" (e.g. Subic, Clark), but no train system that goes through said locations. Seeing the world is quite a spectacle. At the same time, taking your coat and parasol and riding locomotives to strange lands can inevitably lead you to compare what you see with what you have in your backyard. That's when the tears begin to flow. Curious bear feels down once he realizes that he's been eating fake honey.
In the end, I might be hit with welcome surprises, though. We may have a mecha-robot hidden somewhere in Pampanga or Bulacan that I am not aware of. That robot may just be able to save us before it's too late.
Rambling, No Shamblin',
MC
Friday, November 17, 2017
135- You Always Remember Your First.
An utterly scratched up, overused, cliche, this one.
"You always remember your first."
-Your first love.
-First day at university.
-First this, first that.
When I moved to London in 2016, my first stop (apart from Heathrow Airport) was Walworth Road, in Elephant and Castle. From what I've learned, this section of the borough of Southwark, has got itself quite a reputation. Some have said that this part of South London is shady, unsafe, and economically downtrodden. Others have said that Elephant and Castle is emerging as a hipster haven, with new coffeeshops and artistic spaces popping up left and right. But what is Elephant and Castle to me? Compared to other folks, I tend to take a "Penny Lane" approach to places I live in. I say this because I tend to be fascinated by what goes into fully immersing one's self in a neighborhood, and not just being a passer-by. I did live in Elephant and Castle for a good year, and so, I do have quite a few things to say about it- from the silly, to the serious, from the essential, to the utterly mundane.
Shopping For Essentials
Every neighborhood needs a set of grocery stores to help keep mums, kids, and students like myself fully stocked with grub. My apartment was situated at the mouth (or early on into Walworth Road from the Elephant and Castle tube station) of Walworth Road. Given this, one had four options for getting groceries sans having to go too far.
*The Shopping Center- Ah, yes, the Elephant and Castle shopping center. Gritty, grimy, with a functioning branch of Gregg's, Peacocks, and Boots. And oh, the joint's got a Tesco that's been around since the sixties (I think), and an Iceland. And oh, there's a Poundland there too. For things like tissue paper, cotton swabs, energy bars, and the occasional bottled drink (I purchased a bottle of water there once when my friend Joven and I decided to have dinner at a nearby Vietnamese restaurant), I'd usually go to Poundland. For good meat, good heat-them-up-and-you're-set food, and cheap five liter bottles of water (I later discovered it was cheaper to buy numerous smaller bottles from places like Sainsbury and Lidl), I'd head over to Iceland. For juice, soya milk, breakfast breads, and yogurt, I'd do Tesco. Yes, I am a bit of a supermarket nerd.
*The Asian Joint Adjacent to My Building- Oh Aobaba, how I miss you. Aobaba is a chain store that consists of an Asian grocery, and a small Asian cafe. The prices of supermarket good there, to my recollection, were pretty high, so, I'd only buy from there if laziness struck and I needed to address an Asian food fix with dumplings or salt and pepper beef. As for the Asian cafe, I have a lot of good memories associated with the place. This was the first restaurant I had a proper meal in in London, the first place where I ate in with friends, where I'd get Vietnamese noodles before and after doing tough school assignments, and where I'd go after school for dinner on cold days for some squid and a Banh Mi. I may live miles from and E & C now, but whenever I do get the chance to head South, I always visit (or at least consider going to) Aobaba.
*Further Down Walworth- As one goes further down Walworth High Road, one encounters a bevy of shopping options. There's Sam's Convenience Store for little knick knacks and cheap sports drinks (stopped buying the ones Sam's sold after awhile after determining that the sugar content was way too high). I also recall buying my first pieces of Tupperware when I first got to London, from Sam's. Then you have your token Tesco Express, with goods priced slightly higher (sometimes) than stuff you can buy at larger Tesco outlets, but frequently visited by residents nonetheless due to its strategic location and long operating hours (it was the only supermarket along Walworth open past five o'clock in the afternoon on Sundays...it was a lifesaver especially after evening gym sessions). After Tesco, you'd see Morisson's Southwark, or MoMo, as I like to call it. I think I enjoyed shopping at Morisson's the most, given that the prices were lower than Tesco, Sainsbury, Iceland, and Aobaba, and because the place had a lot to offer- from shrimp curry dishes, to baked chicken, to microwaveable rice, to rice crackers, to good fruits, veg, and breads. And oh, I got myself a MoMo More Card. So there, I've professed my love for MoMo. I'd also bump into my friend Kat a lot in this part of town, not too surprising considering that Kat worked, lived, and went to church near Walworth Road. Past MoMo, there was another Poundland, an Iceland, and Tesco Camberwell. The case of Tesco Camberwell is quite interesting. The shop would work with long operating hours just like the Tesco Express nearer my flat. I'd buy last minute snacks and rations from here after working out on some nights, given that this Tesco branch was located just two doors down from my gym (The Gym Walworth Road).
*CeX Walworth- The store I'd always visit for browsing, but never for buying. I think I've gone to so many branches of CeX to browse (Wood Green, Tooting Broadway, Cambridge, Newcastle, etc. etc. etc.) but have never ended up buying anything because of sudden moments of me telling myself, "oh you don't need that", or, "I can just get that DVD from Amazon or Ebay". Eye candy for sure, but that's it. Just eye candy. "How much is that doggie in the window?" moments galore.
The Gym
Among the gym chains in London which I've encountered over the past year (Easygym, Virgin, Fitness First, etc.), The Gym always managed to fit my needs, and my budget, perfectly. The place managed to offer me a no-frills, all business, venue within which I could train, relax my mind, and kick myself in the ass. I've spent many a day at gyms pondering on life, trying to get over a bad day, a bad decision, or, pushing myself towards getting physically and mentally stronger in preparation for a race. Loyal customer here, folks, as I've found myself moving my membership to a branch of The Gym near where I live today.
Being an exercise club member does have its quirky moments. I remember always seeing this gentleman in a hoodie, in The Gym at Walworth. He would sit on one of the leg curl machines and eat, and listen to music via his gigantic headphones. I'm not sure how much work he'd actually get in, but he certainly always did seem relaxed. Then there would be knowing which treadmills to use, and which to avoid. Some treadmills at the place would have loose belts, which would then make slipping off the darn thing and making a scene a distinct possibility. Avoid treadmill five, row two, from the left side of the gym. It'll toss you off it like no one's business.
Central Perks
Living at the E & C meant being in London's Zone 1. Being in Zone 1 means being in close proximity to the city center. Because this is South East London we're talking about, this also meant living near the River Thames, and some pretty famous bridges. I can say that I've done long runs wherein I've crossed London, Lambeth, Victoria, Battersea, Waterloo, Blackfriars, Southwark, and Millennium bridges over my time in the UK. That's how much I love running, running in London, and running by the water. I'd run for miles and miles from my flat at the E & C, going through to places like Kensington and Victoria in the West, towards Stratford in the East, to Clapham in the South, or, just around the many side roads which would bring me around places like Kennington Road, Vauxhall, Waterloo, and Bermondsey in case I didn't have the luxury of time, or, in case the weather wasn't being cooperative. I've resigned myself to exploring cities through running. I've done running in North London too, but, there's something about living in the South, near the river, that made things a wee bit more engrossing.
The Wheels of the Bus Go Round and Round
One of the things I liked about living along Walworth Road was that you could hop on a bus that would take you as far east as Stratford City, and as far west as Shepherd's Bush. Everything seemed within reach from this little enclave in South East London. A National Rail station, along with Bakerloo and Northern Line Tube stations, were also always within reach.
Whenever I wanted to save on a few bucks, I'd avoid walking over to New Kent Road to take the number 1 or number 188 bus to Canada Water. Why? Because Canada Water houses a branch of renowned sports outlet Decathlon (which just recently opened a branch in Manila). Me going into Decathlon with a loaded debit card equals me going home with a boatload of new stuff. Good, but not good. Not good, but good.
Surprises
On the outside, the E & C may seem like a drab part of London, but in between the old flats and antiquated shopping centre, lay some surprises. There was the Coronet Theatre, a venue that opened in 1879, and one that claims to have hosted performances by Charlie Chaplain (who was born in Southwark) way back when. The place has dodged moves to have it demolished, but, according to some articles I've read, may be in real danger of kissing the sledgehammer in 2018. I've been in the place for some independent wrestling shows over the past year (WCPW, now Defiant Wrestling). The authorities should at least consider renovating the place before concluding that it needs to be torn down. Historical sites are always worth saving.
Then there's Mercato Metropolitano near South Bank University London. Expensive food, yes, but a nice atmosphere to bask in over a bottle of vino with friends. The station building for the E & C's Bakerloo Line has been preserved, and rightfully so, given its classic red, terra-cotta tile, Leslie Green exterior. Further down the road, you'll find Geraldine Mary Harmsworth park, a patch of green that would often house its share of local weirdos (some blokes who'd had way too much to drink), active types (bikers, and runners like yours truly), and families and lovebirds out for a stroll (especially in the summertime). A notable gem within the park is the Imperial War Museum, which moved to GMHP in 1936 from Crystal Palace. The place houses an fairly extensive collection of artifacts from World Wars 1 and 2. Their holocaust exhibition, which I went to earlier this year, infused me and a friend from school with enough grief to last a lifetime. Enthralling, but oh so sad.
E & C is just a short, pleasant, walk from the Lambeth North, Blackfriars, and Waterloo areas. I've passed through these roads countless times over the past year during training runs. I'd pass Lambeth North whenever I wanted to run through to Westminster. I'd head off to Waterloo, well, to pass Wasabi in Waterloo's National Rail station at the end of my run to buy dinner before walking back home to Walworth. I'd do Blackfriars whenever I'd opt to run East, or, run down through South Bank, or, make an alternate approach to London Bridge.
Before I Flew Over
I did research on the E & C before moving to London in 2016. Initially, I was worried that I'd be moving to a rather unsafe place, given that the first video that comes up on Youtube when you search "Elephant and Castle Walworth Road", is footage of riots that occurred along Walworth in 2011. Then I read about the infamous Heygate Estate that was described in a number of pieces I encountered as a hotbed for crime. A few weeks before I moved in, a dead body was found in one of the side streets adjacent to Walworth High Street.
While it is only logical for one to worry upon reading stuff like this, I did try to keep an open mind upon leaving the Philippines. Every big city in the world has its share of gritty districts, and in a number of ways, the E & C is one of London's rougher areas. Rough, yes, but there are places far more dangerous, and intimidating. All in all, my year there turned out to be one without incident, save for one time when a bunch of drunk local youths jeered at me for no apparent reason as I walked home from the gym on an otherwise nondescript Sunday evening.
Postscript
I will always remember the E & C to be my first port of call in London. The place has its positives, and its negatives, but all in all, I'm thankful to have experienced a less glamorous part of London first before having been exposed to the city's more posh sections. Living in South East London gave me a sense of perspective about how typical Londoners lived their daily lives, and the fact that my school was so near home didn't hurt, either.
Things have come full circle for me in the span of a year. From beginning my postgraduate student journey in the South, to now, concluding it as a Northerner, the entire London experience has been a blast. For a time, I got the chance to "be", and not just "pass through".
I've got so many more stories to tell. I'd be glad to share more here. I just had to begin at E & C, though, as that's where my airport taxi left me and my bags one chilly September evening in 2016.
MC
"You always remember your first."
-Your first love.
-First day at university.
-First this, first that.
When I moved to London in 2016, my first stop (apart from Heathrow Airport) was Walworth Road, in Elephant and Castle. From what I've learned, this section of the borough of Southwark, has got itself quite a reputation. Some have said that this part of South London is shady, unsafe, and economically downtrodden. Others have said that Elephant and Castle is emerging as a hipster haven, with new coffeeshops and artistic spaces popping up left and right. But what is Elephant and Castle to me? Compared to other folks, I tend to take a "Penny Lane" approach to places I live in. I say this because I tend to be fascinated by what goes into fully immersing one's self in a neighborhood, and not just being a passer-by. I did live in Elephant and Castle for a good year, and so, I do have quite a few things to say about it- from the silly, to the serious, from the essential, to the utterly mundane.
Shopping For Essentials
Every neighborhood needs a set of grocery stores to help keep mums, kids, and students like myself fully stocked with grub. My apartment was situated at the mouth (or early on into Walworth Road from the Elephant and Castle tube station) of Walworth Road. Given this, one had four options for getting groceries sans having to go too far.
*The Shopping Center- Ah, yes, the Elephant and Castle shopping center. Gritty, grimy, with a functioning branch of Gregg's, Peacocks, and Boots. And oh, the joint's got a Tesco that's been around since the sixties (I think), and an Iceland. And oh, there's a Poundland there too. For things like tissue paper, cotton swabs, energy bars, and the occasional bottled drink (I purchased a bottle of water there once when my friend Joven and I decided to have dinner at a nearby Vietnamese restaurant), I'd usually go to Poundland. For good meat, good heat-them-up-and-you're-set food, and cheap five liter bottles of water (I later discovered it was cheaper to buy numerous smaller bottles from places like Sainsbury and Lidl), I'd head over to Iceland. For juice, soya milk, breakfast breads, and yogurt, I'd do Tesco. Yes, I am a bit of a supermarket nerd.
*The Asian Joint Adjacent to My Building- Oh Aobaba, how I miss you. Aobaba is a chain store that consists of an Asian grocery, and a small Asian cafe. The prices of supermarket good there, to my recollection, were pretty high, so, I'd only buy from there if laziness struck and I needed to address an Asian food fix with dumplings or salt and pepper beef. As for the Asian cafe, I have a lot of good memories associated with the place. This was the first restaurant I had a proper meal in in London, the first place where I ate in with friends, where I'd get Vietnamese noodles before and after doing tough school assignments, and where I'd go after school for dinner on cold days for some squid and a Banh Mi. I may live miles from and E & C now, but whenever I do get the chance to head South, I always visit (or at least consider going to) Aobaba.
*Further Down Walworth- As one goes further down Walworth High Road, one encounters a bevy of shopping options. There's Sam's Convenience Store for little knick knacks and cheap sports drinks (stopped buying the ones Sam's sold after awhile after determining that the sugar content was way too high). I also recall buying my first pieces of Tupperware when I first got to London, from Sam's. Then you have your token Tesco Express, with goods priced slightly higher (sometimes) than stuff you can buy at larger Tesco outlets, but frequently visited by residents nonetheless due to its strategic location and long operating hours (it was the only supermarket along Walworth open past five o'clock in the afternoon on Sundays...it was a lifesaver especially after evening gym sessions). After Tesco, you'd see Morisson's Southwark, or MoMo, as I like to call it. I think I enjoyed shopping at Morisson's the most, given that the prices were lower than Tesco, Sainsbury, Iceland, and Aobaba, and because the place had a lot to offer- from shrimp curry dishes, to baked chicken, to microwaveable rice, to rice crackers, to good fruits, veg, and breads. And oh, I got myself a MoMo More Card. So there, I've professed my love for MoMo. I'd also bump into my friend Kat a lot in this part of town, not too surprising considering that Kat worked, lived, and went to church near Walworth Road. Past MoMo, there was another Poundland, an Iceland, and Tesco Camberwell. The case of Tesco Camberwell is quite interesting. The shop would work with long operating hours just like the Tesco Express nearer my flat. I'd buy last minute snacks and rations from here after working out on some nights, given that this Tesco branch was located just two doors down from my gym (The Gym Walworth Road).
*CeX Walworth- The store I'd always visit for browsing, but never for buying. I think I've gone to so many branches of CeX to browse (Wood Green, Tooting Broadway, Cambridge, Newcastle, etc. etc. etc.) but have never ended up buying anything because of sudden moments of me telling myself, "oh you don't need that", or, "I can just get that DVD from Amazon or Ebay". Eye candy for sure, but that's it. Just eye candy. "How much is that doggie in the window?" moments galore.
The Gym
Among the gym chains in London which I've encountered over the past year (Easygym, Virgin, Fitness First, etc.), The Gym always managed to fit my needs, and my budget, perfectly. The place managed to offer me a no-frills, all business, venue within which I could train, relax my mind, and kick myself in the ass. I've spent many a day at gyms pondering on life, trying to get over a bad day, a bad decision, or, pushing myself towards getting physically and mentally stronger in preparation for a race. Loyal customer here, folks, as I've found myself moving my membership to a branch of The Gym near where I live today.
Being an exercise club member does have its quirky moments. I remember always seeing this gentleman in a hoodie, in The Gym at Walworth. He would sit on one of the leg curl machines and eat, and listen to music via his gigantic headphones. I'm not sure how much work he'd actually get in, but he certainly always did seem relaxed. Then there would be knowing which treadmills to use, and which to avoid. Some treadmills at the place would have loose belts, which would then make slipping off the darn thing and making a scene a distinct possibility. Avoid treadmill five, row two, from the left side of the gym. It'll toss you off it like no one's business.
Central Perks
Living at the E & C meant being in London's Zone 1. Being in Zone 1 means being in close proximity to the city center. Because this is South East London we're talking about, this also meant living near the River Thames, and some pretty famous bridges. I can say that I've done long runs wherein I've crossed London, Lambeth, Victoria, Battersea, Waterloo, Blackfriars, Southwark, and Millennium bridges over my time in the UK. That's how much I love running, running in London, and running by the water. I'd run for miles and miles from my flat at the E & C, going through to places like Kensington and Victoria in the West, towards Stratford in the East, to Clapham in the South, or, just around the many side roads which would bring me around places like Kennington Road, Vauxhall, Waterloo, and Bermondsey in case I didn't have the luxury of time, or, in case the weather wasn't being cooperative. I've resigned myself to exploring cities through running. I've done running in North London too, but, there's something about living in the South, near the river, that made things a wee bit more engrossing.
The Wheels of the Bus Go Round and Round
One of the things I liked about living along Walworth Road was that you could hop on a bus that would take you as far east as Stratford City, and as far west as Shepherd's Bush. Everything seemed within reach from this little enclave in South East London. A National Rail station, along with Bakerloo and Northern Line Tube stations, were also always within reach.
Whenever I wanted to save on a few bucks, I'd avoid walking over to New Kent Road to take the number 1 or number 188 bus to Canada Water. Why? Because Canada Water houses a branch of renowned sports outlet Decathlon (which just recently opened a branch in Manila). Me going into Decathlon with a loaded debit card equals me going home with a boatload of new stuff. Good, but not good. Not good, but good.
Surprises
On the outside, the E & C may seem like a drab part of London, but in between the old flats and antiquated shopping centre, lay some surprises. There was the Coronet Theatre, a venue that opened in 1879, and one that claims to have hosted performances by Charlie Chaplain (who was born in Southwark) way back when. The place has dodged moves to have it demolished, but, according to some articles I've read, may be in real danger of kissing the sledgehammer in 2018. I've been in the place for some independent wrestling shows over the past year (WCPW, now Defiant Wrestling). The authorities should at least consider renovating the place before concluding that it needs to be torn down. Historical sites are always worth saving.
Then there's Mercato Metropolitano near South Bank University London. Expensive food, yes, but a nice atmosphere to bask in over a bottle of vino with friends. The station building for the E & C's Bakerloo Line has been preserved, and rightfully so, given its classic red, terra-cotta tile, Leslie Green exterior. Further down the road, you'll find Geraldine Mary Harmsworth park, a patch of green that would often house its share of local weirdos (some blokes who'd had way too much to drink), active types (bikers, and runners like yours truly), and families and lovebirds out for a stroll (especially in the summertime). A notable gem within the park is the Imperial War Museum, which moved to GMHP in 1936 from Crystal Palace. The place houses an fairly extensive collection of artifacts from World Wars 1 and 2. Their holocaust exhibition, which I went to earlier this year, infused me and a friend from school with enough grief to last a lifetime. Enthralling, but oh so sad.
E & C is just a short, pleasant, walk from the Lambeth North, Blackfriars, and Waterloo areas. I've passed through these roads countless times over the past year during training runs. I'd pass Lambeth North whenever I wanted to run through to Westminster. I'd head off to Waterloo, well, to pass Wasabi in Waterloo's National Rail station at the end of my run to buy dinner before walking back home to Walworth. I'd do Blackfriars whenever I'd opt to run East, or, run down through South Bank, or, make an alternate approach to London Bridge.
Before I Flew Over
I did research on the E & C before moving to London in 2016. Initially, I was worried that I'd be moving to a rather unsafe place, given that the first video that comes up on Youtube when you search "Elephant and Castle Walworth Road", is footage of riots that occurred along Walworth in 2011. Then I read about the infamous Heygate Estate that was described in a number of pieces I encountered as a hotbed for crime. A few weeks before I moved in, a dead body was found in one of the side streets adjacent to Walworth High Street.
While it is only logical for one to worry upon reading stuff like this, I did try to keep an open mind upon leaving the Philippines. Every big city in the world has its share of gritty districts, and in a number of ways, the E & C is one of London's rougher areas. Rough, yes, but there are places far more dangerous, and intimidating. All in all, my year there turned out to be one without incident, save for one time when a bunch of drunk local youths jeered at me for no apparent reason as I walked home from the gym on an otherwise nondescript Sunday evening.
Postscript
I will always remember the E & C to be my first port of call in London. The place has its positives, and its negatives, but all in all, I'm thankful to have experienced a less glamorous part of London first before having been exposed to the city's more posh sections. Living in South East London gave me a sense of perspective about how typical Londoners lived their daily lives, and the fact that my school was so near home didn't hurt, either.
Things have come full circle for me in the span of a year. From beginning my postgraduate student journey in the South, to now, concluding it as a Northerner, the entire London experience has been a blast. For a time, I got the chance to "be", and not just "pass through".
I've got so many more stories to tell. I'd be glad to share more here. I just had to begin at E & C, though, as that's where my airport taxi left me and my bags one chilly September evening in 2016.
MC
Tuesday, November 14, 2017
134- Tales from the City: Game Over Name.
One night not too long ago, I found myself walking along Oxford Street, off for a bite to eat after a long afternoon of work in our university's fashion college campus. If you've been to Oxford Street, you'd know that the place is brand name-landia. H & M, Adidas, Nike, etc. If you can think it, you'll see it on Oxford Street. The place is London's high street of high streets.
There's a basketball cliche that a lot of would-be analysts love to bandy about. "Game over Name", they say. It makes perfect sense. It's just so darn cliche, though. It's sort of like saying that London IS Big Ben and Trafalgar Square. In reality, it is so much more than just uber-touristy nonsense.
I do a lot of running, and what I am about to talk about is based purely on my experience, and not any scientific or economic data. I do not like using Nike trainers for workouts, or races. The shoes often look like a million bucks, but perform like something you got for far less than a tenner. The shoes are often stiff, and in the long run, they aren't really very durable. You would be far better off investing in a pair of kicks by Asics or New Balance. Now there's value for money.
All to often, we get caught up in being brand conscious. Brand loyalty is different from brand consciousness. Being loyal to a particular label can mean you sticking to the same pair of trainers, the same coffee shop, or the same brand of laptops, for valid reasons. Maybe your preferred brand can keep up with your busy lifestyle- or your penchant for dropping things on concrete. Perhaps your favorite coffee shop not only serves you up delicious, reasonably-priced coffee, but, also managed to have one of their baristas chat you up and calm you down before another day in the salt mines. Your chosen product, your weapon of choice, may hold such a distinction not because of flair- but rather, because of how far it can and will go, when push comes to shove.
I have noticed that I've gone all "stream of consciousness" with my recent blog entries. This is good. Living in London can tend to make the imagination of an international postgraduate student like myself wander endlessly. Imagination is the main ingredient for brilliant realities. I believe that. I've seen it happen. Hey, if I really do have to go back home to the Philippines in a couple of months, then I might as well take advantage of having castles and ancient roads and estuaries being as close to me as gum is to an unwilling piece of pavement.
So, "Game over Name". Yeah, that makes sense. I hope to be able to get my masters' degree soon. Once I get the extra letters after my name, I'll get to prove whether I can live up to that old basketball cliche.
Soon, I will once again find myself having to start over.
MC
There's a basketball cliche that a lot of would-be analysts love to bandy about. "Game over Name", they say. It makes perfect sense. It's just so darn cliche, though. It's sort of like saying that London IS Big Ben and Trafalgar Square. In reality, it is so much more than just uber-touristy nonsense.
I do a lot of running, and what I am about to talk about is based purely on my experience, and not any scientific or economic data. I do not like using Nike trainers for workouts, or races. The shoes often look like a million bucks, but perform like something you got for far less than a tenner. The shoes are often stiff, and in the long run, they aren't really very durable. You would be far better off investing in a pair of kicks by Asics or New Balance. Now there's value for money.
All to often, we get caught up in being brand conscious. Brand loyalty is different from brand consciousness. Being loyal to a particular label can mean you sticking to the same pair of trainers, the same coffee shop, or the same brand of laptops, for valid reasons. Maybe your preferred brand can keep up with your busy lifestyle- or your penchant for dropping things on concrete. Perhaps your favorite coffee shop not only serves you up delicious, reasonably-priced coffee, but, also managed to have one of their baristas chat you up and calm you down before another day in the salt mines. Your chosen product, your weapon of choice, may hold such a distinction not because of flair- but rather, because of how far it can and will go, when push comes to shove.
I have noticed that I've gone all "stream of consciousness" with my recent blog entries. This is good. Living in London can tend to make the imagination of an international postgraduate student like myself wander endlessly. Imagination is the main ingredient for brilliant realities. I believe that. I've seen it happen. Hey, if I really do have to go back home to the Philippines in a couple of months, then I might as well take advantage of having castles and ancient roads and estuaries being as close to me as gum is to an unwilling piece of pavement.
So, "Game over Name". Yeah, that makes sense. I hope to be able to get my masters' degree soon. Once I get the extra letters after my name, I'll get to prove whether I can live up to that old basketball cliche.
Soon, I will once again find myself having to start over.
MC
Monday, November 13, 2017
133- Tales from the City: Ramen and Books During My Commute
Today I had ramen with two friends in the city. As I walked to the ramen house from Farringdon, it dawned upon me that winter was indeed ready to knock the proverbial door down. My coat and thermal shirt felt useless. My face was slowly frosted by unrelenting wind.
One of my friends had told me about a 5 pound ramen offer on Mondays. Sadly, the establishment decided to go with buy one, take one buns for this Monday. Sad. No cheap ramen. The company was engaging, the ramen was delicious, regardless of how much it cost. All in all, the sojourn was worth it.
One thing I'll miss about London once I leave it will be the ease at which it takes to commute around the city. Back home, I drive a lot, and because traffic in Manila is terrible, you're basically paralyzed, with only conversation with a fellow passenger, and/or music from a car stereo, to keep you occupied as you turn into granite in the middle of the freeway. In London, I get to read books on my phone as I whizz through Underground tunnels, or park my fanny on long bus rides from the city to Wood Green.
Today, I continued reading a book by Donald Ritchie on Tokyo. I've read a few chapters. I am far from finished with it. I've noticed that the author has a penchant for emphasizing Tokyo's layout being a mish-mash of narrow streets, roadside vendors, and housing that seems destined to be purposefully temporary, put forth around an imperial palace that lies watch over a metropolis that has seen itself transform from medieval enclave to ultra modern urban centre. I also read something about the importance of private space to the Japanese. I am constantly amazed by the Japanese's attention to detail and the amount of value they place on the sanctity of space.
Before I could go any further, my bus had reached Wood Green. From one dimension, I found myself back in the cold London night. Soon, the heat I encountered as I devoured my ramen dinner will envelop my body at every waking moment. In short, I am saying that I'll be taking yet another trip not too long from now- back to a home that is my home, yet will not feel like home until I realize that home is where I say it is, and feel it is.
MC
One of my friends had told me about a 5 pound ramen offer on Mondays. Sadly, the establishment decided to go with buy one, take one buns for this Monday. Sad. No cheap ramen. The company was engaging, the ramen was delicious, regardless of how much it cost. All in all, the sojourn was worth it.
One thing I'll miss about London once I leave it will be the ease at which it takes to commute around the city. Back home, I drive a lot, and because traffic in Manila is terrible, you're basically paralyzed, with only conversation with a fellow passenger, and/or music from a car stereo, to keep you occupied as you turn into granite in the middle of the freeway. In London, I get to read books on my phone as I whizz through Underground tunnels, or park my fanny on long bus rides from the city to Wood Green.
Today, I continued reading a book by Donald Ritchie on Tokyo. I've read a few chapters. I am far from finished with it. I've noticed that the author has a penchant for emphasizing Tokyo's layout being a mish-mash of narrow streets, roadside vendors, and housing that seems destined to be purposefully temporary, put forth around an imperial palace that lies watch over a metropolis that has seen itself transform from medieval enclave to ultra modern urban centre. I also read something about the importance of private space to the Japanese. I am constantly amazed by the Japanese's attention to detail and the amount of value they place on the sanctity of space.
Before I could go any further, my bus had reached Wood Green. From one dimension, I found myself back in the cold London night. Soon, the heat I encountered as I devoured my ramen dinner will envelop my body at every waking moment. In short, I am saying that I'll be taking yet another trip not too long from now- back to a home that is my home, yet will not feel like home until I realize that home is where I say it is, and feel it is.
MC
Friday, November 10, 2017
132- I See Snow
As I enter my final two months in London, I can't help but begin to seriously wonder about what will happen next. What will going back home to Manila feel like? What will being faced with actual tropical heat, traffic, and implausibly long waiting times, do to my psyche? Will I miss London? What will I miss about England once I am gone?
Will I ever get over Ebay and Amazon? And running in places like Regent's and Hyde parks?
There are many questions fluttering about. And I see snow. Well, there isn't any actual snow falling from the sky as of the moment, but there might as well be. It has gotten ridiculously cold in recent weeks, and while I am used to being alone by now, the "chill" associated with fighting off hordes of "introvert orcs", has begun to feel cumbersome. In the end, we all seek to experience some form of familiarity once we complete our respective "missions".
I remember my grandfather saying some time before he passed away that he wanted to go back to his home province of Sulu before calling it a day. For those of you who are not aware, Sulu is part of the southern section of the Philippines, a region that has been mired in all sorts of conflicts over what has seemed like forever. Needless to say, Sulu is not a place which you can "just go to" so long as you know how to work Expedia and AirBnB accounts. It is a lot more complicated than that.
My grandfather wanted to get a taste of something familiar and dear to him before walking off into the sunset. I don't blame him. We are all on borrowed time, and after working hard all your life to deal with the practical concerns existence tends to throw at you, all you want is a soft pillow upon which to lay your head on. Sulu was that for my gramps. I feel like I still have much to accomplish in my life, but let me tell you- I miss rhythms familiar and dear to me already. I miss those things about as strongly as I feel about experiencing new things. Given this, I guess I'll be spending a majority of the time to come both holding on thought chests with my name on them, and digging on and on, hoping to strike gold and managing to set up camp on previously unchartered islands along the way.
I see snow. Snow can be sad, snow can be mad. Snowballs thrown can be happy. It's all a matter of perspective.
Two months and change to go.
MC
Will I ever get over Ebay and Amazon? And running in places like Regent's and Hyde parks?
There are many questions fluttering about. And I see snow. Well, there isn't any actual snow falling from the sky as of the moment, but there might as well be. It has gotten ridiculously cold in recent weeks, and while I am used to being alone by now, the "chill" associated with fighting off hordes of "introvert orcs", has begun to feel cumbersome. In the end, we all seek to experience some form of familiarity once we complete our respective "missions".
I remember my grandfather saying some time before he passed away that he wanted to go back to his home province of Sulu before calling it a day. For those of you who are not aware, Sulu is part of the southern section of the Philippines, a region that has been mired in all sorts of conflicts over what has seemed like forever. Needless to say, Sulu is not a place which you can "just go to" so long as you know how to work Expedia and AirBnB accounts. It is a lot more complicated than that.
My grandfather wanted to get a taste of something familiar and dear to him before walking off into the sunset. I don't blame him. We are all on borrowed time, and after working hard all your life to deal with the practical concerns existence tends to throw at you, all you want is a soft pillow upon which to lay your head on. Sulu was that for my gramps. I feel like I still have much to accomplish in my life, but let me tell you- I miss rhythms familiar and dear to me already. I miss those things about as strongly as I feel about experiencing new things. Given this, I guess I'll be spending a majority of the time to come both holding on thought chests with my name on them, and digging on and on, hoping to strike gold and managing to set up camp on previously unchartered islands along the way.
I see snow. Snow can be sad, snow can be mad. Snowballs thrown can be happy. It's all a matter of perspective.
Two months and change to go.
MC
Monday, November 6, 2017
131- Nooks and Crannies
Whenever I visit a new place, I often choose to take the roads less traveled as opposed to going full on touristy. I have lived a little over a year in London, and I feel like I have not even begun to scratch the surface of everything there is to see in this city. I feel like I haven't even begun to even sharpen my figurative paint scraper when it comes to discovering all there is to know about the UK. That's how crazy it all is.
There is value in being Roman, as opposed to just doing what the Romans do. I will never be truly British, or, never truly be a citizen of England, given that I had spent the first 30-plus years of my life in the Philippines, and look to spend most of the rest of my existence away from the UK. Being moved after experiencing a small sliver of life away from your place of origin, however, carries its own profound sense of majesty. It broadens how you view the world, and makes you more introspective. It makes you know yourself better. Once the sheen wears off, after a few months or years in a new place, things tend to fall into a a state of habit. That does not mean one has to stop wondering, and wandering, though. I don't ever want to settle for just being one amongst the proverbial herd. I want to keep standing out, in a good way. Like Mufasa told Simba, one should not go looking for trouble. Instead, one must yearn to ascend to greater heights purely due to the knowledge that such will be able to make him/her see more of the universe, or, the universe from a totally different perspective.
The day I become totally ordinary is the day I ought to just hang it up, and give up on all things exciting, enriching, and plausibly "real". That's the day I should tell myself to just stay and bed, and never get up to fry an egg and find a cuppa joe.
After moving through the nooks and crannies of this world, I've found myself emerging before a few stunning vistas, and plazas full of people I don't know. After milling about in these places, I find myself back where I started- yearning to explore even more nooks and crannies. So, here I am, off to the next adventure. I think I am a bit more enlightened as far as directions go this time, though- better acquainted with many things, but not any less curious about the unknown.
MC
There is value in being Roman, as opposed to just doing what the Romans do. I will never be truly British, or, never truly be a citizen of England, given that I had spent the first 30-plus years of my life in the Philippines, and look to spend most of the rest of my existence away from the UK. Being moved after experiencing a small sliver of life away from your place of origin, however, carries its own profound sense of majesty. It broadens how you view the world, and makes you more introspective. It makes you know yourself better. Once the sheen wears off, after a few months or years in a new place, things tend to fall into a a state of habit. That does not mean one has to stop wondering, and wandering, though. I don't ever want to settle for just being one amongst the proverbial herd. I want to keep standing out, in a good way. Like Mufasa told Simba, one should not go looking for trouble. Instead, one must yearn to ascend to greater heights purely due to the knowledge that such will be able to make him/her see more of the universe, or, the universe from a totally different perspective.
The day I become totally ordinary is the day I ought to just hang it up, and give up on all things exciting, enriching, and plausibly "real". That's the day I should tell myself to just stay and bed, and never get up to fry an egg and find a cuppa joe.
After moving through the nooks and crannies of this world, I've found myself emerging before a few stunning vistas, and plazas full of people I don't know. After milling about in these places, I find myself back where I started- yearning to explore even more nooks and crannies. So, here I am, off to the next adventure. I think I am a bit more enlightened as far as directions go this time, though- better acquainted with many things, but not any less curious about the unknown.
MC
Sunday, November 5, 2017
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