Category: On London

Homepage/

Expat Exercises for Re-entry to Life in London

Years ago when I worked for Habitat for Humanity International, re-entry was a phrase often used of the International Partners, staff returning from a work trip abroad. It stands to reason that after being away from a country, one needs to re-adapt to the culture, etc.

An expat of nearly twenty years, I can attest to that. Casually, I often use the word re-entry when returning to the US, even sometimes stopping over for a night or two in a city of choice, before joining friends and/or family for a good down home visit.

Only on this last visit, however, somewhat made in haste, even if it did last over two weeks, I didn’t have time to think about adjusting to time zones, water, food, language and so on. I hit the ground running, literally and didn’t stop rushing around until after I returned to the UK.

It was then that I began to think of re-entry, if you will. Suddenly, my body was no longer tolerant of the few hours of sleep I got each night, the paces that I put it through daily or the inappropriate food I lived on, including honeybuns and coffee cake, most days.

This past Monday, the cinnamon brioche, the English honeybun I teased to a friend, did not cut the cake. Suddenly, I am gluten intolerant again. Furthermore, I acutely understand the value of daily exercise again – something I didn’t bother with at all in the US.

Yet this morning while exercising, even if it was challenging, I felt a freedom that I hadn’t felt it more than two weeks. That is when it occurred to me that exercise was somehow freeing. And I quietly said to my personal trainer, Judit Ressinka, that if only I could get her to the US to do at least one session with each of my sisters, I felt certain that they too could experience the freedom that I was experiencing.

Judit felt that I was on to something. Though exercise is often associated with alleviating physical stress, it also has the power to alleviate mental turmoil, too. When going through a particularly stressful time, I pointed out, we are trapped in a small world, which drives us, and keeps us on a bumpy road.

Exercise, Judit agreed, makes for a smoother ride, if you will. It has a way of getting the blood and oxygen flowing, properly and harmoniously.

Of course, one session won’t cut the cake, any more than my cinnamon brioche did, but a consistent programme will make a big difference in how the body endures.

Even I am truant from time to time like the two weeks in the US, no doubt the rigorous programme of training once per week with Judit and running three times, sees me through arduous times.

Now back to re-entry. What’s for supper?

 

Blog/

A Quick 999 To Detox the Mind

Still early into the New Year, there is still much talk about detoxing the body, with very little said about ridding the mind of toxins, though I read a brilliant piece on the subject a week or so ago.

In the meantime, I got on with life, if you will, coping with day to day stresses of living in a major city—transportation strikes, road works, crowds all over the place, temperamental weather and so on–and took on some of the tips, until one afternoon after dealing with an intense family matter, I found myself in a toxic state that had risen overnight, seemingly.

It was more than a black cloud hanging over my head; it had shrouded me.

Anyhow, certainly, the situation hadn’t risen overnight. Such situations, if you will, rarely do. But with my head pounding intensely, I somehow knew that a painkiller would not do the trick, nor would the usual nap. The night before, I hadn’t slept much at all, for over thinking.

It was too late to refrain from caffeine, as in the lovely piece mentioned above, and with a major dental surgery coming up the next day, I needed a panacea and I needed it fast, so here is what I did:

1) Wrote it all down, sort of a dump, if you will, but I kept trying to edit and censor my thoughts. 

2) Thus, I called a trusted friend who would tell me the truth and not necessarily what I wanted to hear.  Note it wasn’t a rant or a finger pointing phone call but a call for a fresh perspective, even if I didn’t agree with it.

Though I felt better for the call, I couldn’t stop my mind from nattering and my head from hurting, so here is the biggie: 

3) I decided to shut off my computer, my Ipad, the mobile data on my phone and avoid the Internet for 24-hours. Making this decision brought a kind of sweeping relief!

Having done without all of my devices during a three-day retreat last year, I knew the benefits of letting them go.

4) I climbed into bed in the middle of the day, against the advice of many experts, and tried to settle my mind for a sleep. Of course, the nattering and needling refuse to subside.

5) So here is where my imagination came in to replace the chatter. First I counted backwards from 10 to 1. I have no idea why but it worked to focus the mind. After I got through this for a number of times, I allowed myself to think constructively about the matter. Which bits had solvable, practical solutions? I flagged them and committed to working on them later.

6) The rest, I let it go, if you will. That wasn’t easy I might add, as like many people, I subconsciously try to control the outcome of dilemmas. But the sooner I realised in the heat of the moment that being controlling was futile in this instance, and in most, the sooner I drifted off to sleep. 

That night, I continued with the moratorium on the Internet and after a few breathing exercising, I went off to sleep for a good night’s rest.

The next morning, I woke up ready for the surgery and as we drove through the financial district of London, aka the City, I quietly admired it. There, mind detoxed. But make no mistake about it; a short-term detox such as this acted more like a plaster than it did anything else.

It was not the panacea I had hoped for but let’s face it any body part can use a band-aid when bruised. The mind is no exception.

 

 

Homepage/

Poppies Appeal to Millions at Tower of London

Today, November 11 marks Armistice Day here in the UK and Veterans Day in the US. Both holidays, if you will, honour those who have lost their lives in the many battles fought over the years and celebrate the retired and present service men and women who represent both countries.

Here in London, thousands gather at the Tower of London to admire the sea of poppies on exhibition in the moat. Constructed to commemorate the centenary of the outbreak of World War I, the installation began on 5 August and will be finalise today with the last ceramic poppy planted at 10.52, totalling 888, 246 poppies altogether.

Though the extraordinary exhibition, created by Paul Cummings and staged by Tom Piper, will be dismantled starting tomorrow, more than 4 million visitors from around the world are projected to have seen it when it is all said and done. Fortunately, Paul and I are amongst them.

Last Friday, after seeing Speed the Plow with Lindsay Lohan, (alright if you ask me but not great) we caught a taxi to the Tower and joined hundreds of other late night viewers, to enjoy the exhibition under floodlights.

So popular during its final weeks, the Mayor lobbied to extend it to no avail, but instead the organisers agreed to keep it illuminated at night. Though I had suggested we go early Saturday morning, Paul thought it would be wise to make the trek at night.

It was well worth it—the poppy exhibition, that is. For Londoners who haven’t seen it and are willing to brave the crowds, I can highly recommend. As for the play, I wouldn’t bother. But the extraordinary poppy display is hauntingly moving, even if under giant spotlights.

In the meantime, let us celebrate and honour our men and women of service on both sides of the pond, on this special day, and always.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Homepage/

Seeing what’s in the Timing

As a local, I often look at what meets the eye, nothing more.  And now and again, I don’t even do that. I scan areas and attractions, rather fleetingly. But recently in keeping with the running with sense theme, I thought I’d pay more attention to my surroundings and how wonderful it was to discover new characteristics of the Thames Path.

But surprisingly, I found it hard to focus without interruption from my other senses, so instead of banging out a blog after one running session, I gave it three. Not to mention the backlog of work for my new website and latest book, The Seasons, both coming soon! Watch this space.

Anyhow, the most distracting of all of the senses was hearing. Having ditched the iPhone to listen up sensibly, all I could seemingly do was hear the sounds of helicopters, airplanes, buses, cars, even people humming away.  To this end, I shut my eyes briefly, thinking I could block them out, but only made the sounds louder and also nearly lost my balance. Thankfully, I recovered quickly, even if I was dizzy.

Thus on the second morning, I stayed wide-eyed, no matter what, and lo and behold I made an interesting discovery. It was all in the timing.

By 8 o’clock London is pretty much wide awake and in this state, the city is noisy, but still sleepy in the earlier hours, London is serene and far more noticeable by sight, at least the distance I run on the Thames Path whether towards Putney or Battersea.

While the sky, even in its greyness, seems calm, so does the river, even if it is rushing and swirling. Meanwhile a single bird flies low and speculates, too. And cyclists, runners and walkers move easily.

The commuters seem more polite to one another, mimicking you first, I insist while approaching the river bus, the bus, the train

And the beautiful luxury houseboats on The Thames look picture perfect, too. Even the skyscrapers in the distance look inviting and not steely as they can in the midst of the day.

This morning, I noticed a cat scampering about in silence. Imagine! Also, I saw a dog or two prancing and smiled to myself, understanding the phrase puppy dog eyes. And then tick tock went the clock and cyclists came tearing down the path, tooting their horns, and mothers and fathers scrambled to keep up with their scooting children, and runners tried to stay out of the way, me included.

Finally at the finish line, I stopped to stretch and take in the fresh air and realised that I was distracted, already getting ahead to feeling. Thus, I fixed my eyes on the river. Captivated by its life, the water looking like silk flesh as it ebbed and flowed, a lone duck riding it, I couldn’t help grunting when I felt a pain in my leg. Thrown out of the scenery, yet again, I gave in to feeling. That’s next week’s assignment. Stay tuned.

Blog/

The Fresh Feeling of Autumn in London

Though I have been back from holiday in The Algarve, Portugal for more than a week now, I’m only beginning to feel grounded. What a lovely holiday. Do check out the pictures below:

Anyhow, with a busy schedule including working on the design of my upcoming book,The Seasons, which will be out in late October, and preparing for the launch of a new website to coincide with it, I have hardly had time to notice London, even it is as busy as ever.

I have been moving about rather purposefully, only doing the essentials—training, going to the hair salon, and shopping for groceries. And what a task the latter has been since discovering that I have more food intolerances that I can stomach. But that’s another story.

On top of all this, I lost my favourite aunt last weekend and continue to struggle with mourning from afar.  See my January 2011 blog on this very topic. Admittedly, I felt better re-reading it.

Still, I felt foggy and a bit out of sorts until yesterday.  Then I noticed something different in the atmosphere, something novel and perhaps light.

No longer was the heaviness of summer hanging over me as I made my way to the nearby park during my morning run, though I hadn’t run in a few days. And later that morning on a jaunt to Knightsbridge and Sloane Square, I felt a similar vigour.

Suddenly, it occurred to me that though not official according to astronomers, autumn has come to London. Even if day and night are not of equal length, I’m certain it is here, even if there are only a few berry coloured trees to behold and two or three rust coloured leaves around.

As autumn has always been my favourite seasons, I have long concluded that its arrival is not necessarily in the landscape, but in the air.  It’s an atmosphere, a feeling. And in London, this atmosphere takes off the intense edge.

What a sigh of relief to notice that:

1)   People here seem to approach autumn almost as if it is a New Year.  From launching new restaurants to opening flagship stores, merchants keep the capital fresh and relevant. Yesterday, I popped into the new Club Monaco store in Sloane Square. Not bad, not bad!

2)  The buzz around the new term – be it the school term, the work term, the ‘explore or improve your life’ course term – adds to the novelty. In any case it is all about new beginnings. No need to wait for January to set off to a crisp start.

3)  Londoners and tourists alike are friendlier. While I have always been one of those people with an ‘ask me’ stamp on my forehead, it seems to glow in the daylight in autumn.  Where is Sloane Street? Am I on the right road to Harrods? Is Parliament Square this way? Just a few of the questions I was asked recently. So glad I could help.

4)  More walkers and runners are taking to the paths. The pleasant weather is just right for walking and running and cycling, too. Never mind the occasional dark cloud and threat of rain.  It’s London, after all.

5)  People continue to sit outside, if only for a spell. In summer everyone goes out in droves for fear they won’t get the opportunity to do so the next day. But autumn days linger, making us all a bit more relaxed.

6)  It doesn’t hurt that there are few, if any gnats or midges to reckon with, although I did notice a bee kicking up a buzz among the crowds in Fulham over the weekend.

7)  And lo and behold drivers are far more courteous than they were in the summer. Yeah, yeah, yeah, the congestion can be taxing. But we are all in it together. Seriously!

Though I’m looking forward to those traditional days when the leaves will colour the landscape, for now I’m taking in the fresh atmosphere of autumn in the capital and basking in it. It’s in the air.

IMG_1399  IMG_1401 (1)

 

Blog/

Take Seven: Running to Switch Off…

Running time is meant to be time for me, myself and I to escape the stresses of family life, work etc. That means no writing, except for when I am running to jumpstart writing. For the most part, however, I run to switch off – not an easy feat for an author, particularly one on deadline.

Thank goodness nowadays I am not on a major writing deadline. Though I have a new book coming in October, the writing of it has long passed. The editorial process is upon me. Yet while running one morning recently, truly believing that I was in the escape zone, I found myself writing figuratively, at least coming up with story lines or bits that would be useful to scenes, chapters, etc. at some point.

When I realised what I was doing, I couldn’t help laugh to myself and in doing so I decided to capture the moment. Why not make the most of it, share top story ideas I happened upon while running. Take seven:

  1. A trail of fresh blood leading from the walls of the Embankment to the pavement, which disappears into the earth suddenly. While I am no sleuth, that has to be one worth investigating.
  2. Three buxom men, dressed in black, wearing earpieces as they pace up and down a certain part of the Thames Path. They don’t look fighting fit like undercover agents to be honest, so just who the heck are they?
  3. The man dressed in a crumpled suit, grasping a beer bottle as he wandered to the edge of the river. At one point I expected him to walk right in, but he stopped suddenly and stared unblinkingly at the ground. Then he found a piece of wood and dropped down on it. What is or was his story?
  4. The yappy dog that longs to have a round with the Great Dane, who ignores him rather intuitively it seems. Does he understand that he is cruising for a bruising?
  5. The boot camp female runner who wears black gear and a massive backpack, as she tears along the boardwalk. All she needs is a splash of camouflage underneath her eyes to get fully into character. Everything else about her already says Private Benjamin.
  6. The barefooted runner who jogs up and down the boardwalk on the coldest of days, despite the worry of shattered glass, nails, whatever, and on some days he runs along the road. Most recently, I saw him hotfoot it in the rain. What is that about?
  7. The middle aged Englishman who practices Tai Chi rather clumsily but happily. You have to admire the guy.

 

Actually, I appreciate them all, even if they do distract me, with exception of the blood. That worries me. Never mind! Who needs to switch off anyhow? Not this writer. Time to switch on and deal with these edits – The Seasons, coming October 2014.

Blog/

Expat Caught in the Congestion Zone

Westminster…argh! Actually, I love the borough, lived in it for twelve of the nearly seventeen years I have been in London. But I hate driving there, with the exception of Belgravia and Knightsbridge. Hate it! And they must hate drivers like me coming there, too—not sure whether to zoom or potter. All we want is a parking space, just one.

Hence, the congestion zone – that ought to keep us out. I thought so too, but today I went inside the controlled zone, unintentionally, of course. Blinking Sat Nav. Someone has to accept the blame.

If only I had listened to my gut instinct, I would have parked in my old neighbourhood and walked to my destination. Oh no, I thought I could get right to the edge of the zone, sit the car down and walk merrily to Run and Become.

Not only did I end up blocks away from the store, but also when I at last got there, the shop was closed for staff holidays. If only I had listened to my gut instinct, I would have telephoned  in advance. But honestly, who has ever heard of such a shop closing in the height of running season?

Okay, it is the end of the summer but my current shoes are so out of date that it is no longer funny. As much as I run, I am told that I could do with a new pair of shoes every three months. Forget it, maybe every six months, but the truth is, I haven’t bought any since last June or July. No wonder my feet are not amused, my knees either.

Never mind, I still have to pay this charge of  £11.50 on top of the £2.00 that I paid to park. Ouch that’s more than $22. Not to mention the petro. And forget about all the time I planned to save by taking the car. I lost that driving around, looking for parking and then walking to the closed shop.

So what would a train fare have been? I dare not say.  But all is not lost, not really. I had a sightseeing tour around Westminster, finally saw where the St James Park tube station is, and passed by the New Scotland Yard. Also, I saw numerous trendy coffee shops. Under different circumstances, I might have tried out at least one.

But anxious to get out of dodge, I settled for stopping into Boots, the chemist, for some eye drops of all things. There, I can see clearly now. So I am told there is a great running shop in Kensington, nowhere near the congestion zone. Settled, out of it at last.

On London/

Literary Weekend in London Full of Surprises

I can’t stop talking about my literary weekend, so to speak. It was not only brilliant but also full of surprises – not the kind that I love to hate. Remember, those are the ones that I know are in the making. These jewels are nowhere near my radar until they happen.

First, there was the Books About Town exhibition to be in London until 15 September.  On 7 October the book benches will be auctioned to the highest bidder. Of course, we planned ahead but I had no idea how amazing the benches would be. I simply can’t choose a favourite. But I do know which one is the most sophisticated. Umm!

Anyhow, what are my chances of snagging one, you reckon? Nil, I can hear Paul saying in the background. Never mind! We had a fantastic time Saturday, checking out the art on the Bloomsbury Trail.

Not only are the benches cleverly designed, but also each represents a book or series of books, if you will.  While other book lovers blazed the trail on Saturday, too, so did art lovers and some, just plain old London lovers or shall I say lovers of London.

photo-1-150x150  photo-4-150x150  photo-3-150x150

 

Apparently, art around town in the capital is not a new thing and in all of its diversity, it is unlikely to become old hat anytime soon. In 2002, the capital hosted CowParade, which Paul and I had seen three years previous in Chicago. Fantastic!

Then in 2010, London was home to 250 life size baby elephants. Where was I? Though I somehow missed this one, some of the folks I met on Saturday will never forget it.

Two years on during a year of great hoopla for London, the capital celebrated Easter with more than 200 giant Faberge eggs. In a daze in 2012 for one reason or another, I don’t remember much about this stunning exhibition, either.

Thank goodness, I clued in on the book art, which alone was well worth making the trek. Still, bonuses not only included discovering more of London but also interacting with some of its people—amazingly sociable, contrary to popular belief. And best part was the weather, perhaps the most popular conversation of the day.

Speaking of popular, that brings me to the second surprise of the weekend. We had the opportunity to hear William Paul Young, author of The Shack, speak on Sunday.

Paul and I showed up at our church as we do, clueless as to whom the speaker would be. And this is not the first time we happened to be at the right place at the right time. Anyhow, it was a pleasant surprise to hear from the acclaimed author. While perhaps not as colourful as the book exhibition, he is arguably as creative.

In short, the book is a tremendous exploration of the human condition and man’s relationship with God, if you will. And Paul Young created it.

Four years ago, I reviewed The Shack. So I won’t do that again but I do have at least one new over arching thought about it—it is perhaps one of the most powerful metaphors of one person’s life that I have read.

Before hearing the author speak of his painful history and the bearing it had on the novel, I’ve often jokingly wished that God had given me The Shack, such a story if you will. Now putting all joking aside, I see why and how the author and his worldwide audience so deserve the goodness that has come from one tiny book. It is a big message. And at last, I get it.

Now back to those fabulous benches, you think I’ll get one somehow. Never mind! I’ll definitely find my way around another Books About Town trail, and soon. Can’t wait to be surprised!

Homepage/

Special Connection with First Famous Female

For many African American famous firsts, it is either getting late in the evening or night has come for their final rest, as is the case for Alice Coachman Davis, the first African American woman to win an Olympic Gold medal.

Mrs Coachman-Davis, who won her medal for the high jump at London’s Wembley Stadium in 1948, died on Monday, July 14 at the age of 90. Though her achievement itself is enough to celebrate, where it happened and where she is from makes the achievement that much more special for me.

From Albany, Georgia (the place I have called home for years now, though my family originates from nearby Leary) the record breaker won the medal right up the street from where I live now, if you will. More than 60 years later, Wembley Stadium continues to host some sporting events such as football, also known as soccer to some. Years ago, Paul and I saw Tina Turner and Lionel Richie perform there.

How appropriate for me to be in this space about now.

Somehow I can’t help feeling a special connection. Though I didn’t have the pleasure of knowing Mrs Coachman-Davis, I have known of her for years, if only through the school that bears her name in Albany.

Interestingly enough, my sister Carrie, who has been in the Dougherty County School System for many years now, landed her first teaching job at Coachman Park Elementary School. And the story gets better.

Her then principal, Mrs Obzeine Shorter, was one of my first grade teachers.  In those days, the class was split between two teachers.  The other was a Mrs Boston, also from Albany.  To the best of my knowledge the latter woman died some years ago. Mrs Shorter lives on.

Wonderful firsts but not the lasts, I am sure. At London 2012, for example, women continued to make history. Females secured 29 of Team USA’s 46  medals. The women’s basketball players  won their 5th consecutive Olympic gold medal in London.

What a fitting to time to look at some of the noteworthy firsts in life. Share your memories here. As for now, I join thousands, if not millions, of others in celebrating the life of Alice Coachman-Davis and extending my condolences to her family.

Homepage/

The Magic of London at Night…

There’s something about London at night that’s enchanting—a bit surreal, too. As the taxi sped over Waterloo Bridge the other night, I couldn’t help trying to capture the magic. Well, while the amateurish photo isn’t bad, it doesn’t do the capital’s mysticism any real justice, does it?

Surely, I have something that says a thousand words, I told myself as I looked over my digital files—sunsets, sunsets, fireworks, fireworks.

Not what I had in mind. Though I have photographed Shanghai by night, Bangkok, Paris, New York, Boston and so on, I don’t have much of London. What does this mean? Possibly, that I don’t carry a camera around my home base at night. Who does? In any case, I’ll have to remedy that, but it might take some time.

In the meantime, I thought I’d take this opportunity to list five of my favourite views in London at night and tell a bit about what makes them special. Note that the list does not necessarily appear in preferred order. I love them all:

1) A view looking east on the Thames, which highlights the various riverside apartment buildings, the Albert and Chelsea Bridge and the lofty skyscrapers of the city of London in the distance. You’ll need a bird’s eye view for this one, but that shouldn’t be too hard to manage with skyscrapers popping up all over the place.

2) The twinkling lights of Harrods, located in Knightsbridge, which also happens to be one of my favourite views by day, too, or shall I say my favourite hang outs. The famous department store is one of the largest, if not the largest in the world. Checking it out by night won’t cost you a thing, considering what you might spend by day. Closest tube stations are Knightsbridge and Hyde Park corner.

3) Piccadilly, from Green Park to Piccadilly Circus.  It’s just vibrant, bodacious and atmospheric all at the same time.  So I am told the nightlife in the area keeps it teeming. What do I know, but when I am lucky enough to be there, I can see and feel exactly what the buzz is about.

4) Speaking of buzz, Park Lane is the place to be any time. But by night, the ritzy hotels light up and appear seductive under the moonlight. If you happen to be staying on the famous street or attending a gala there, you’re in serious luck. But if not, do catch a ride and zip alongside London taxis, Bentley’s, Maserati’s and the likes to take it all in.

5) When you tire of riding and want a stroll, go from Leicester Square to Covent Garden for a hive of activity and eclectic views.  From watching fascinating street artists to sampling exotic foods, expect to be wowed. Young and old alike gather before and after theatre or heck just gather for the fun of it.

With all this talk about wonderful views maybe those fireworks are fitting about now. Magic!

IMG00193-20101106-2011-150x150  IMG00199-20101106-2013-150x150  IMG00209-20101106-2016-150x150