You don't make friends with Salad in London

It occurred to me over a lunch date a couple of weeks back, that despite this being my 13th month here, I have only encountered one palatable salad.

The Talbot in Islington treated me to a delightful Waldorf salad, my taste buds savouring the rarity of such a dish until well after the last morsel was swallowed.

In England, salad tends to translate to 'plate of lettuce drenched in salad cream'.

I think this can be explained by the UK's general inability to grow it's on fresh fruits and vegetables.

This doesn't explain my most awful salad experience to date though.

At The Light Bar in Shoreditch, I ordered a rocket, tomato and haloumi salad. What I got instead more closely resembled my mortal enemy the ceaser salad and actually contained 13 sardines (yes, I counted them).

After some fuss they agreed to bring out the salad I'd ordered. However they actully brought out the same salad, minus the anchovies; haloumi added. Anchovies have a nasty way of infiltrating the senses when you're someone who does not appreciate them.

Vomit.

Luckily I had wonderful company and a kopparberg mixed fruit cider to soften the blow.

I now resolve to attempt no further salad consumption until I return home or land in the Mediterranean; whichever comes first.

Fresh Australian fruit juices and our vast array of fresh produce are both something my body craves and misses often.

London Pride 2011

Pride London celebrations culminated this year with the parade held on Saturday the 2^{nd of} July. Coinciding with New York legalising gay marriage, I felt the event had far less of a political message this year. Less of a cry for equal rights, and more of what I feel was a cultural celebration. It made for a lovely prelude to the hosting of 2012’s World Pride.

Leading this year’s march was Deputy Mayor Richard Barnes and former Mayor Ken Livingstone, with London Mayor Boris Johnson notably absent. What was ever-present was the mass corporate representation throughout the event; in particular supermarket chain Tesco, which I think marks a definite shift in the mind-set of Londoners. It wasn’t too long ago that big chains would have run a mile, yet this year saw Tesco’s ‘Out at Tesco’ brigade of employees take up a remarkably large portion of the parade.

The Original Bucks Fizz, X-Factor contestant Rachel Adedeji and a female folk rock group from Brighton named Grey Matter were amongst those that treated us musically in Trafalgar Square. Amongst others adding to the main stage line up were Ben Cohen (former England Rugby star), Stavros Flately (finalists from Britain’s Got Talent) and the Dame Edna Experience.

What I adored about the event was the sense of unity brought about when so many individuals from various walks of life come together with the sole purpose of creating a community of unison. Kath Gillespie Sells, who is an activist for the disabled, was at the front of the procession in a white Corvette; and then followed drag queens walking alongside bodybuilders and soldiers, with a camp salute being given to a group of Christian protesters.

I have been an avid supporter of parades of this nature for many years, predominantly at home in Sydney. However, this year quite overwhelmingly I walked away with a real sense of admiration for those marching on, heads held high in a society that by and large still considers them a minority, and criticises those they simply cannot fathom. Their sense of self is truly something to be applauded, and something I aspire to. A group that particularly struck me, and that I drew a lot of inspiration from are lesbian group Luleki Sizwe. Flying a South African banner, they aim to raise funds for the creation of safe places to house lesbians who fear for their lives after suffering what is known as 'corrective rape'.

After the parade the fruits and queer-friendly spilled out over the streets of Soho, the weather staying fine for a beautiful outdoors party, and clubs opening their doors.

While I agree there is still a lot of work to be done, society has made leaps and bounds in recent years. The first march of this kind in the UK was in 1972; when approximately 2,000 protestors took to the London pavements on the first July Saturday as part of the first official ‘Gay Pride Rally’. Several name changes later and the event as we know it has become a London institution with crowds of over one million.

These marches tell a very different story to each participant, but the resounding message of pride is something that is heard by all.

Soho Secret Tea Room

This is a really sweet idea, badly executed. I wanted to love this visit.

The tea room is tucked above a secret stairway in The Coach and Horses pub in Soho. After navigating our way through an intimidatingly dark and windy set of stairs, Bridget and I found ourselves in a room decorated in twee vintage fashion, with beautiful jazz audio streaming from a gramophone in the corner. Although having been told a booking was not necessary, our hostess advised all tables were full.

Two large glasses of wine at a nearby establishment later, and I received a call to tell us a table for two was now ready.

Our hostess greeted us presented in what would be thought typical 40s style; a full skirted pink polka dotted dress, dark hair rolled tightly at the back; and a bold red lip to compliment full but impeccably groomed eyebrows, and an otherwise pale face. Beautiful, however she seemed distracted as she hurried us to a corner table; and we waited around 10 minutes for our menus.

Looking around the room I could see that overall the décor was lovely – beautifully mismatched vintage crockery adorning the surrounding tables, to compliment white or checked tablecloths and beautiful flower arrangements. It was then that our table seemed lacking. No vase of flowers and in fact no table cloth. Still, I was in good company and after perusing the menu to select treats, this was soon forgotten.

After having selected a pot of rosebud tea each, and a selection of cupcakes, we were disappointed to learn that none of our sweet treat choices were currently available. We instead ordered a plain vanilla cupcake each, as well as a slice each of carrot and lemon cake to share.

Now, pouring tea is usually a relatively simple task. However as one of the rosebuds in the tea pot got caught in the spout during pouring, poor Bridget received a scalded thigh. The next dampener to the experience were very dry nature of both the cupcakes and the lemon cake. The beautifully moist carrot cake partially rectifying this.

Bridget and I then both experienced bouts of food poising in the following 24 hours.

Now, if this were Sydney where places of this nature are fewer and farther between; I could see myself giving the venue a second chance. Provided I had a booked table of course to ensure the venue had adequate time a prepare. However, this is London and there are as many tea venues as there are frowning faces in the winter, so I’ll give this place a wide birth.

A new chapter unfolds

So, it has been over 5 months since I’ve written which wasn’t the plan. Probably best not to indulge in a play-by-play of all the events between New Year’s Eve and now, so I’ll press on with a synopsis of more recent adventures.

Time is flying by very quickly, and I’m not where I thought I would be at this point. On the other hand, the universe has thrown me some surprises along the way that have forced my hand in realising what a precious gift life is. For someone that came over here with no plan at all, I’ve done well all things considered. Excluding one or two, anyone I knew from Sydney that moved to London; has moved back.

My work contract finished at the start of April, and so I wait anxiously as the next chapter unfolds. I am finding it difficult to move forwards career-wise. I don’t wish to continue in the field I have most experience in as it no longer carries with it a sense of accomplishment or a particular challenge, and instead leaves me emotionally wilted and generally unsatisfied. However, the fields I would love to explore are not willing to take a chance on me in this economic climate. Despite my many transferable skills, I am lacking the particular niche industry experience that potential employers desire (and will find in other candidates given the multitude of people looking for work). That being said, I am looking for work at a difficult time of year. Although the economy is slowly picking up, this is the tail end of the financial year and many companies are restructuring; a lot of offices also shut down in light of the multitude of public holidays that recently emerged. I believe things will pick up towards the end of May. If not, I have some thinking to do. Definitely wish I had moved to the UK during a more fiscally-friendly time. C'est la vie.

If it becomes apparent that there is no way of moving forward in a job that both thrills me, and affords me a reasonable life style, there are two other plans I can implement.

Plan B would see me accepting a job that mirrors my most recent experience. Sure, this idea is less than appealing, however I would be paid well, in stable employment and could study other areas alongside this; with the intention of moving into my preferred field over the next couple of years when the market has settled (or I am back in Australia).

Plan C would see me cut my losses and move back to Australia. This would see me earning far more than in the UK, and in a shorter time span; enabling me to more comfortably move back to the UK around this time next year, and funding some incredible European and American travel adventures.

I received some distressing news recently; told that my Nanna Mary’s health had rapidly declined, and then shortly afterwards being told she had passed away. I miss her in a way that I’ve never experienced before, and in a way that you can you never prepare yourself for. All I know if that when you miss someone in this way, you disappear yourself. Feeling the onslaught of want, and of longing, I got the urge to reach out, and attempted to grasp her; or at the very least, try to remember what it was like to have embraced her in the first place. At that very moment the hurt had infiltrated my blood, and rushed from my hands to the rest of my body; making me ache in places I never knew existed. The most difficult part for me, of course, is being so damn far away; left feeling all alone in this because no one around me mirrors my grief. I miss my family too much right now.

Our bond was unique. I felt connected to her, and could relate to her; in a way not possible with the rest of my family. It is the kind of unconditional love you expect from a parent, without any of parenthood’s practicalities getting in the way. After all they are not ‘responsible’ for you in the same way a parent is; so their love is less filtered. Of all my family members, I would say I take after her the most. Her genuine care for, and interest in those around her will never cease to be remembered, and her optimism is something I will try to channel more each and every day. I am able to take comfort in the knowledge that she passed away peacefully in her sleep, surrounded by friends and family; and that she is no longer in pain.

Upsets aside, it has definitely not been all doom and gloom for me. I have met some incredible people here (none of them English, hah!). People who continually inspire me, make me giggle, serve me pancakes in bed, drive me around on the back of their motorcycle, meander the markets with me on a Sunday or are always up for a cider/cocktail or two and painting the town magenta. These wonderful creatures combined with the glorious twenty to twenty-five degree weather England has experienced lately make for a well-spirited Karla.

As unbound as I am these days, this has been the perfect opportunity for me to soul search and give back a little. I’ve been helping at a women and children’s refuge centre in East London, and in the next few weeks hope to commence training as a volunteer with a youth suicide prevention hotline. These are both charities I feel passionate about involving myself with; and while I may not be able to make a huge difference, I appreciate that help in any capacity has the ability to enrich the life of someone else. I’d feel more fulfilled if I didn’t need an income to get by and could volunteer my days away.

As I write this I am lucky enough to have just returned from some time away at Amamchara, which hosted a detox and yoga retreat. My spacious private room was nestled amongst a picturesque 76 acres of woodlands and lakes, and while I shared a bathroom with another guest, friends/partners staying together have the option of a private room with en suite. All rooms have incredibly luxurious king size beds, and the property also boasts a large indoor pool. Idyllic Somerset is a county in South West England, and made for a stunning backdrop as I embarked on a juice fast, followed by a raw food diet. This was combined with 4 hours of yoga per day, and talks by various teachers; all activities focused around helping to revitalise and reprogram one’s body and mind. On the last day of my stay they held classes dedicated to incorporating the raw food lifestyle into daily life. I learnt how to make meals, and even recreate some favourite comfort foods to make the transition into everyday life easier. The most important elements I’ve retained are inner peace and elevated energy levels. I have shed unnecessary guilt, and the concerns placed on me by others; and I am left feeling content in the working order of life and of living. I hope as the days continue I become able to fully relinquish this sense of urgency and control that I’ve clung to for so long.

This is going to sound a little disjointed now, because this entry was written in several sittings. I have just accepted a contract position with a large telecommunications company. This fits in with Plan B I guess. I don’t love the idea of the job itself; but it is paying well, is an easy commute, and is guaranteed work for the next few months. Time will tell whether I continue on in this role beyond the initial contract and study more exhilarating things alongside it; or whether I am look to accept a position elsewhere.

While I did have plans to move to central London in the next month or so, as it turns out, I will have this place to myself for three months from the middle of June; in which case it seems rather silly to be paying rent elsewhere. This presents a great opportunity for me to continue saving, and I will aim to move out early September instead.

I am going to turn this into a weekly or bi-monthly blog, with an emphasis on shorter, yet more detailed updates. Documenting my observations on, and interactions with; the people around me, restaurants and cafes I visit, the streetscapes that surround me and activities I’m involved in. I think this would help give more of a feel to the culture and everyday life. Leaving too long between updates leaves a lot of room for forgetting delightful titbits of information, and encourages me to ramble.