There is this marvelous cafe chain here called Pret a Manger tailored for the Londoner on-the-go. It's so tempting to me, and I've already had like 3 lunches today. There is a delightful selection of sandwiches, most of which have an Indian or Middle Eastern influence. The Indian presence around here is inevitable, and I think mango chutney in a Londoner's pantry is like ketchup in an American's. You don't see Worcestershire sauce and fish and chips as often as you would expect anymore; they've since been replaced by chicken korma, tikka, or tandoori.
I had a crayfish and rocket sandwich for lunch, which is a refreshing change from tuna and mayo on white. Rocket is the word here for what the French call roquette, what the Italians call rucola, and what the Americans call arugula. I can't really figure this one out, but I love that shit. It just occurred to me too that maybe we call crayfish, crawfish. There is also this yogurt drink here that is really popular, which is simply yogurt mixed with apple juice, honey, and vanilla bean. It appeals to the organic Zone girl in me. You know, yogurt is really good for digestion. I'm sure I could use the boost considering the foreign foods I've been pummeling down my esophagus.
An old-ass Scottish man offered me his help today as I was finding my way to the tube stop around Francesca's area. First, the customary question every European asks me, "Are you Japanese?" Then he told me several times in his long-winded discourse, "Watch your stuff! Watch your stuff!" which were probably the only words I understood through his thick Scottish accent. He then proceeded to show me several punctured scars in his wrist, "A pickpocket did that to me! Watch your stuff!" and really started to scare the shit out of me. "Where are you from?" he asked. "Los Angeles," I replied. "Jesus! What the fuck are you doing here?" Well, he did successfully lead me to the West Hampstead stop, so all was well.
I've had two bad cab experiences here, because the drivers are really thick, even while they proclaim to know all of central London "like my hand!" An Iranian driver spent most of the time telling me how the British Parliament really knows what they're doing, and how life in England is heaven on earth. "American government, too corrupt, and Los Angeles is really dangerous." We get a really bad rap. I didn't bother to tell him that my parents' house in Diamond Bar is actually quite safe from terrorism. Anyway, someone tell the Queen that her subjects are really down with her.
My habib Jose is rolling into town tonight. Yippee!
posted by Lucy Sloan @ 7:16 AM
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