Everyone is dancing wildly, their clothes drenched in sweat. I see at least five women wearing butterfly wings; most people wear technicolour outfits, and have faces painted with glitter. I take another sip of my coffee, then snap a photo on my phone for Instagram. The time reads 7:14am. This is not your ordinary rave.
"what to wear"
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We finally had our tickets in hand and entered the theatre through the front doors in time for the 7:30pm performance. There is nothing like the buzz in the air before a great show, of spectators finding their seats, of that magic that occurs when the lights dim and a hush falls over the crowd. Kasha and I certainly weren’t disappointed with our seats as we were front row centre. And then, the music started, the curtain lifted…
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To summarise East London as trendy and simply leave it at that would be undermining the area. There are so many cool things to do and so many great places to hang out; I started to list all my favourite places (markets, restaurants, galleries) and I realised that the list of cafés was astoundingly long. Simply put, East London has a lot of really good places to go for coffee and/or breakfast. If you live in London, you might know a few of these; either way, if you live here or you’re just visiting, I recommend all of the following cafés. In my eyes, they’re the best cafés in East London. You may or may not find me writing in one of them on any given afternoon.
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If you’re like me, you will hesitate on clicking further into this article. Aren’t there enough of these lists? I wonder that, too. I’ve lived a strange life – we all have, if we stop and think about it – and most of it has been devoted to travelling. When I actually sit back and reflect on what I’ve learned, however, the things that stick with me most are not how to use a machete or take a shot of tequila without grimacing or find my way through a new city, although those things are pretty cool. The things I’m proudest of learning are those that have to do with relationships with other people, with how I carry myself, and with how I view the world.
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If you’ve read this blog long enough, or have ever glanced at my Media/PR page, you know that I get very suspicious of companies. There is no paid advertising on this blog, nor are there any sponsored links (not even hidden ones, what you see is what you get). While I’m willing to work with companies and tourism boards for complimentary trips and tours (like my visit to London Cru a few weekends ago), I have no desire to participate in anything that does not keep up with the theme of This Battered Suitcase, or that I think would not be beneficial to readers. I also almost always turn down product reviews.
So when Tom emailed me, I responded politely but firmly. “I won’t write a post specifically about your bracelet, or even guarantee that I will put El Camino in the title of a post,” I wrote. And yet here I am, two months later, doing both of those things. Why?
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“There she is.” The pilot’s finger, held up against the window of the cockpit, nearly obliterated the very thing I had come all this way and paid all this money to see.
“That one?” I put my own finger to the cold glass, aware that the propellers on the small airplane were swallowing my voice. Each mountain seemed roughly the same, barely varying in shape or height. I looked to the pilot for confirmation. He smiled with big, white, snowcapped teeth.
“Yes,” he mouthed over the whir of the propeller’s blades. “That’s Everest.”