The Blog
Been spending a little time in London lately. What an eclectic city. This sketch is the view from the Bertorelli’s Restaurant in Covent Gardens. Great food. Interesting alley. These guys looked like it was dress up night for a Guy Ritchie retrospective. Had an excellent haircut from a beautiful young lady from Mongolia (she hated the movie Mongol–quite passionately hated it, apparently not historically accurate). She has a brother in South Korea, a sister in Chicago and another sister in London. Her parents still live in Ulan Bator, the capital city (which means Red Hero-I did not know that) and her dad hates to travel. Left me wondering where his kids got the travel bug. Interesting the difference in generations. Most of our parents could have cared less about traveling abroad. (Another oft repeated thing in London when they find out you’re an American, “Did you know only 5% of Americans have a passport?”) I have no idea whether it’s true or not, but they all say the same thing. 5%. Travel internationally was a big deal when I was growing up. Now it just seems so common. It seems like every nationality in the world is represented on every block in this city of seven and a half million. But the differences in cultures seems to be changing. Piccadilly is like Times Square (or is Times Square is like Piccadilly). The young hair stylist was dressed like young hair stylists in Seattle. “Pints” with Deanna Oppenheimer in St. John’s Wood (if you order the lager it’s actually almost cold.) Tapas in Notting Hill with another friend from Seattle. (It’s official, no matter what country I’m in, I don’t like fried pork belly). Parks are amazing. One of my favorites, Russell Square, I had the pleasure of walking through every morning after breakfast on Museum Street in Bloomsbury. Indifferent service everywhere, except the night the three of us ordered a second bottle of Brunello. Earned us a free Lemoncello. The British tabloids seem to be more fascinated with the “Barefoot Bandit” than we are, and they don’t really quite understand why we’re so “keen” on blaming that whole “gulf mess” on poor old BP. Oh, and if it helps, 25 degrees Celsius is about 75 degrees. But you probably already knew that.
 |
