Travel

A few weeks ago, I was contacted by Katrina from Eating London about joining one of their tours. If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you may have noticed that I haven’t accepted many tours or trips; it’s just a personal thing. After reading Tom’s post about the same tour, though, and when I realised that the tour would take place in my neighbourhood, East London, I became very, very intrigued. Since moving to London I’ve decided that I’d like to do a bit more “backyard blogging”, which is writing about the place in which you live. As I live in the best city on earth, and in the best neighbourhood in the best city on earth, this means writing a lot more about East London and how much this part of town has to offer.

Two weeks ago, I was in Berlin. I had met a group of backpackers at the hostel and we went out for burgers at Burgermeister in Kreuzberg (if you get the chance, you should go). We got our food and sat at one of the tables near the road, laughing and drinking beers. One of the girls had put her purse on the table, right next to the road. Picture a high table, with a barricade blocking the street, but not sidewalk; that meant, if someone on, for example, a bike or a motorcycle wanted to reach over the barricade and grab something off of our table, he or she very well could.

“You should take your bag off the table,” I cautioned. We were in a safe neighbourhood in one of the safest cities in Europe, but still I couldn’t help but think that her purse looked awfully vulnerable.

“I know, I know, I always forget to do these things!” She laughed. “Maybe this is why I’m always getting things stolen from me.”

I was all set to do something completely different for this instalment of Around the World: beer, books, hot dogs, (all my favourites in life) but I realized I still had a lot of photo of dogs, and dogs always win.

A beautiful mural depicting social change versus a random tag on a random brick wall – how do we approve one, but disregard the other? The line seems to be drawn somewhere between construction and destruction; the work must take on some form of cultural significance, or, well, at least just look good.

“I can stitch up your chin if you want,” the young woman told me as she pressed yet another alcohol-soaked cloth onto my bleeding face. A monkey peered at me from the window. I could hear the cries of exotic birds. My clothes were still covered in mud, and everything hurt.

“Have you…” I struggled to find the right words; I didn’t want to offend her or seem impolite. “Have you ever stitched a human face before?”

For this instalment of the Around the World series, I chose something that is very near and dear to me: coffee. Surprisingly, I only started drinking coffee after university; I’d have the odd cappuccino or two, but it was only when I started spending more time in Europe that it became normal to duck into a coffee shop and grab something, or to enjoy an hour spent with a latte and a book. Now it’s unusual if I go a day without drinking some form of coffee – my favourite is a good espresso or americano.