impressions

Still no internet at home, so no convential subject-oriented blog that is updated whenever something worthwhile comes up. Instead I summarize the last few days in a hodgepodge manner. Lots of stuff for one post!

The kitchen

Went to Habitat yesterday, a French furniture and decorations store, bravely modernist and not cheap. Their summer clearance worked in my favor, and I got all the dishes I needed in colors I liked, 81 pounds in all (price, not weight). I paid 38. This will be the first time I own entire sets not random assortments of plates and bowls. And none is chipped. Does that mean I'm getting old? At least the bowls don't match the dinner plates, nor the side plates the mugs. Now my kitchen only needs a shelf, then it's done. I love it already.

The house

What's far from done is the bathroom. I'll go to IKEA today to see if they can help me out. I also need to get lamp shades. You wouldn't believe what the landlord left hanging on the ceiling. Old, tattered and torn, and dirty. Apart from that, the apartment is really coming together nicely. The sofa arrived on Friday. Yesterday morning, I managed to stash away all of my belongings, most after taking them out of their boxes. Now, with the sun shining through the kitchen window and the first espresso in my new cups, I have to say I love it.

The parks

On my way to Habitat, I found myself in Holland Park. You have to know that London takes pride in its parks. It claims to be Europe's greenest capital. I was ready to poke cruel fun. Some cities have a few parks, others a stunning natural setting with mountains, coastline or green hills. My derision was premature. While the parks don't compare to the Alps in their splendor, they are lovely in their own right, calm and relaxing, yet full of life, filled with picnickers and footballers, promenaders and sunbathers when the weather is good. And the weather here is getting better by the day, thanks to global warming. Even the paltry triangle of Shepherd's Bush Green, surrounded by roads busy with buses, taxis and stop-and-go rush-hour traffic, mercilessly surrounded by noise and pollution, gets a different feeling once you set foot on it. Grass, trees, people at play or at rest, and the city out there gently fading away. I love it.

The Bush

Shepherd's Bush is my new hood. It's far from fancy but not far from fanciness. Notting Hill is just down the road, and some say the Bush is facing the same fate. So far, it has resisted gentrification. Immigrants and expatriates from dozens of countries call this area their home. Life is pulsating at all hours. The streets are littered with trash most nights and lined with the most diverse shops and restaurants. There is an Indian tandoori grill, a Caribbean take-away, a Polish delicatessen, and an Arabic nut roaster. And those are literally just the first four businesses when I get out of the house. I love it.

The baker

One thing that I was curious about when moving the London was whether I'd find a good baker for my daily fix of bread, or whether I'd have to go back to baking my own. In the US, I did just that. In France, the bread was good enough that I wouldn't claim I could do it better. I wasn't sure about England. Imagine my delight when I saw Forrest the Baker, just across the street from the nut roaster, a small artisanal bakery with dense, varied breads and reasonable prices. Every time I walk by I'm tempted to shout: "Bake, Forrest. Bake!" For breakfast, I love their raisin walnut bread.

The paper & the town

Yesterday, I bought a Guardian, apparently the daily specifically written for me, the skeptical intellectualist. But what am I to do with 244 pages? I might as well read the internet all over again. And I haven't even mentioned the 100-page next-week's events guide that tumbled to the floor when I lifted the bundle. No matter how much action you seek in London, there will always be vastly more events you miss than you catch. This is truly one of the most happening places one can imagine. I love the energy and the vibe of it.

The beer

I've been to a few pubs sampling the local fare. With all due respect to the master brewers, I can't remember drinking equally revulsive concoctions in a very long time. Mind you, Utah beer is mostly bad, French beer is mostly bad, but some beers here are utterly disgusting. So Friday evening when we went to Imperial College Student Union for a drink, I chose Carlsberg. I paid two pounds per English pint, subsidized by the College and was rewarded with a fresh taste, much to my liking. I also got to sit on a delightful lawn among about a hundred like-minded students and staff, hanging out after a week of work. The French weren't into that kind of stuff, but I love it.

The bikes

One of the conversations we had on the lawn was about cycling to work. You might imagine it suicidal in London, with all the traffic and pollution, but it's not that bad. If you ride early in the morning, say before eight, air quality is still good from the night. Also, since the tube bombings two years ago and the extension of the congestion charge zone this February, the number of bike commuters has increased dramatically. Kensington High St sometimes looks like a critical mass event. There is strength in numbers, and you will be seen. Cyclists are also encouraged to move up to the traffic light at red, to be see by drivers. This gives us a head start every time the light changes and annoys the hell out of those poor souls waiting behind. I love that the question of owning a car never even comes up.

The cars

Not all are lucky enough to find satisfaction in something else but cars. On my way to work, I pass Kensington Gardens Hotel, five-star poshness and a magnet for wealth. In their driveway, I have seen a pimped-up orange Land Rover, a white Lamborghini and a race-ready silver Carrera, all with Dubai plates. That's the nouveaux riches. Besides that, there are plenty of Maseratis, Porsches, Bentleys and Daimlers with English plates in the streets. It cracks me up to see old Rolls-Royces parks carelessly in front of homes where the owner clearly thinks nothing of it. Probably had the car for a decade or two and loves it.

The conclusion

I've been here for a good ten days. In some ways I've settled in. My apartment is almost presentable, and work has started. I have not yet signed up for gas, telephone or internet, and I have not seen much of the city. But I can already say that it's not that bad after all.

Addendum

This post was written Sunday morning. In the course of the day, I made it as far as Wimbledon but never got to Ikea. Wimbledon has a few nice high street stores, though, and an entirely unexpected Tchibo, and I bought some things I didn't need. My bathroom is still a disaster, and I have no table.