London

If you live in London, or have travelled there recently, you probably visited the Tower of London to see the poppies. But for those who couldn’t make it, I wanted to share photos from last week, when I saw it for myself. 888, 426 individual ceramic poppies were placed around the Tower of London, one for each British military casualty in the First World War. While it is visually stunning, I was completely overwhelmed by the tragedy it represents.

There was always something calling me to keep travelling, to keep moving; the nomadic lifestyle appealed more than a sedentary one. That’s why all my paycheques went toward holidays or longer-term travels, and why I spent most of 2010, 2011, and 2012 on the road, with barely any breaks.

But then something changed. And although I’ve been realising the change for the last year, as I watched London go by from the cab window yesterday it all was achingly clear: I’m not ready to leave this place. I really like this place. I think that, for all of the wanderlust still in my bones, I want to settle in this place. Permanently.

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.

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…

The last time I saw you, you were standing under the bright lights of the big city. I only knew you for a few hours. You had a superhero name and crooked teeth and you had never tried an old fashioned until you met me.

These are the details I remember most. I can’t remember now if you have one sister or two, or what your job entails, or what you studied at university.

I met you by chance in one of the biggest cities in the world. Our chemistry was palpable. Within five minutes of meeting I knew where the night was headed. I watched you standing at the bar, waiting for our drinks, and you turned and looked at me just so. You knew it, too.

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.