london adventure day 3 (thurs. 04.04.2002) part 1

Originally written 04.04.2002. This might show up in ‘zine form in the near future if I have a chance to put it together when I get back to Edinburgh.

i’m writing this in the middle of trafalger square which is a short walk from the soho square and the amazing vegan thai place where i just finished gorging myself. the square is stunning at night. the lighting makes the fountains sparkle and glow while the looming edifice of the national gallery overlooks the entire scene. the giant lions at the corner of the monument are quiet & majestic in a way that i don’t think that they would be in the daytime. beside me, two roller skaters, the proper 4-wheel kind and not the inline kind, do their thing, dancing a wheeled fandango to some unheard score. above me, couples sit on the monument, huddled close together, & i wish very much that erin was with me.

earlier in the day, i had the thought that a city like london is a nice place to visit, but that i could never live there. it just seems too crowded, too dirty, too hectic. but by night, as i walk through the cafe, club & theater lined streets of the west end, the crowds make the city feel vibrant and alive. the weather has been beautiful and unseasonably warm this week, and it’s even pleasant at night, so i just sit back against the cool stone & soak in the ebb & flow of the city.

earlier this evening, i made my way to brixton to do some skating. brixton is in south london and is perhaps one of the dodgier parts of town*. certainly, the number of tourists on the tube slowly disappeared the further south i went until i was pretty sure i was the only non-local on the train. the easiest way to get the the brixton park is to take the victoria line to the brixton stop. coming out of the tube station, go right (north) on brixton until you see stockwell road on your left. follow stockwell road until you see the park. it is surrounded by a low wall w/ lots of great grafitti. there should be a mob of skaters and bike riders so the place is hard to miss. the famed london rock show venue, brixton academy, is in the area as well on stockwell road.

if you asked me why some british skaters, like rowley, have such a hardcore, aggressive style, i’d hazard that it’s because they grew up skating spots like brixton. this place is the epitome of gnar. this place is a typical 70s era poured concrete park w/ all the hips, banks, and bowls one would expect from such a space. Of particular interest is the big bowl that you can do wall rides out of, and this cool tabletop that has stairs down one side that seem too short to grind, but were treated as a cool little gap by one of the skaters who did a fat f/s ollie over them. there’s also a small grind rail & the obligatory plywood junk, but they hardly seem relevant amidst all the concrete.

the place is frequented by mostly old-school skaters, and for the first time in a long while, i think i was the youngest person there. when was the last time you heard someone say “can you teach me how to do that b/s boneless?” yeah, that’s what i thought. a word of caution, there are some pretty monster cracks in the surface, so big wheels are the order of the day.

even earlier in the day, i checked out the tower of london, which i would argue is the definitive spot in london, and judging by the throngs of tourists the definitive tourist attraction as well. i bought my ticket at the tube stop & avoided the atrocious queue at the gate. to get to the tower, take the tube to the tower hill stop which drops you by the stop where the more common criminals were executed (the more illustrious ones were actually executed inside the tower walls).

when i thought tower of london, given my cultural naievity, i expected a single, phallic structure. to imagine the tower of london, instead think castle, w/ 2 surrounding walls & a mout encompassing a number of towers and other structures. initially, i was a bit put off by the high (#8.75 for student) ticket price to see the tower, but there is enough to see inside to fill most of a day and to justify the ticket cost. the free guided tour is definitely worth checking out. it is lead by a beefeater, an actual british military member in full traditional garb. my guide was charismatic & informative, although quite often more than a little mysogynistic. The frequency of his comments about women shopping and being imprisoned w/ one’s wife (as was sometimes the case w/ prisoners at the tower) being torture, was amusing, but also quite disturbing. still, the guide provided the low-down on the evolution of the tower of london as well as some stories of the many imprisoned, and executed, within the tower’s walls. there are also a number of other, less general, free tours that are available throughout the day, which I didn’t partake in, but are probably also worthwhile. also in the white tower, are some really cool displays of arms and armor, and in another building, the crown jewels. these are incredible. the royals rock so much ice it makes rap videos look pathetic. if you ever wanted a visual for oppulance, this would be it. i wouldn’t say that 1000s of diamonds and carets of gold is cool, but it is interesting. it is definitely, for better or for worse, a potent symbol of the british empire’s former power. finally, the tower has a bunch of smaller exhibits, living history performers, and offers, from the tower walls, some cool views of the thames & the pretty cool tower bridge.

after visiting the tower, i headed across the thames on the aforementioned bridge and back to see the less impressive london bridge. local lore has it that some dumb americans from arizona bought the original london bridge thinking that they were getting the tower bridge. suckas!

london adventure day 3 (thurs. 04.04.2002) part 2

Originally written 04.04.2002 This might show up in ‘zine form in the near future if I have a chance to put it together when I get back to Edinburgh.

now i’m leaving trafalger square and i’m heading towards picadilly circus. The place reminds me of times square in nyc, both in terms of the massive amount of neon, and the huge number of tourists. the scene is gaudy and aphixiating, and i’ve had my fill. i just start walking randomly. i’m lost now, but i have my maps in my daypack, so its kind of fun to just take random turns around the city. i’m now at what must be leichster square where there are more tourists, street performers, and vendors hawking henna tatoos. a few more turns, and i’m in chinatown, full of stately restaurant proprieters greeting their diners, and the unmistakable aroma of roast duck hanging grotesquely in the storefronts. I keep walking and i’m back towards the theatres and nightclubs and then back to the tube.

the tube is crowded as it’s getting late and the theatres have recently let out. i see young girls, awkwardly clad in dresses and high heels, happily clutching souveneir programs, and little children looking exhausted, but fulfilled, after a days adventure. The whole scene gives a sort of finality to the day that is really nice. maybe i could live here after all …

when i get back to my hostell, the other inhabitants of my room are already back. at first, i mistake them for a family, b/c they are engaged in conversation, but that’s just part of the social nature of the hostel. they’re just lone travelers like me. there’s the older south african man, the woman from australia on holiday, and the young-looking, college student from chicago. we talk about our individual experiences thus far in london, and the topic somehow switches to personal safety. the other american and i comment on how striking the apparent lack of gun culture is, and the australian remarks that back at home. she can leaver her doors unlocked. the south african talks of the need, in his home nation, for high walls and armed gaurds before entering into a rant about nigerian immigrants. it always catches me off gaurd when i hear someone, who i perceive as a minority, express an anti-minority sentiment towards another group. but, i guess that i, like many in the ‘states, stikk hold onto some notion of africa as a homogenous culture.

i shower, finally washing away the layers of grime that have accumulated on my skin from falls at the skatepark. when i get back to the room, the others are asleep. i turn out the lights and join them.

* as i’m transcribing this, i’m watching some news program on street crime and youth victimization and they flash up some shots of the skatepark and the surrounding estates, complete with ominous music.

haiku for a crowded subway platform

Originally written 04.04.2002

little girl, face flushed

clinging to your father’s arm

crowded subway stop

london adventure day 2 (wed. 04.03.2002)

originally written 04.03.2002This might show up in ‘zine form in the near future if I have a chance to put it together when I get back to Edinburgh.

despite the odd fealing of sleeping in a strange room shared by strangers, i apparently slept deeply and long enough to remember my dream. i dreamt that erin had become a stoner and lied about that fact to me. i remember being really upset because i fealt obligated to break up with her even though part of me didn’t want to. for the sake of my hostel dorm room’s coinhabitants, i hope i didn’t wake up screaming “Nooooooo!”, but i definitely recall having that “thank goodness it’s only a dream” feeling.

i’ve found the Tottenham Court Road tube stop to be supremely useful. for starters, there are a couple of veg*n restaurants in the area: the thai buffet I mentioned yesterday, Govinda’s, a krishna-run indian buffet which one will encounter on the way to the Thai place, and, one block over from Govinda’s, on Dean Street, there is a veg*n fast food place called Red Veg. This place is like a veg*n, marxist, version of macdonalds with menu items such as veggie burgers, nuggets, falafel, and a variety of fried vegetables. the food’s not anything special, but it’s inexpensive, convenient, and worth checking out if only for the novelty. not all menu items are vegan, but they can be made so. everything’s GM free to boot.

also, a few steps away from the Tottenham Court Road tube stop is Muji, a shop that will sort you on your reasonable, but not inexpensive, travel needs. i got some sandals for the hostel showers for only 5#s. the clever customizable raincoate (tear on the serated lines) looked promising as well at around 10#s. the place was like Urban Outfitters but Japan-style. whatever. a little farther down the road is Easy Everything, a massive internet cafe that tends to be less expensive than most competitors. they have a crazy variable pricing strategy that is cheaper when the demand is lighter, so go during off peak hours to get the most bang for your buck, err, pound. also, next to Easy Everything is a Sainsburry’s Central for groceries. many hostels have kitchens, so you can save some cash by cooking instead of eating out. furthermore, rock venue, london astoria, is also just down the road from the tube stop.

by far the coolest thing, however, that one get get to from the aforementioned tube stop is The British Museum. from the tube stop, go one block N. on Tottenham Court Road and then turn East (right) on Great Russell Street & you’re there faster than you can say “imperialism = rape of culture”.

the museum is enormous & there is really too much to see in one trip. i was pretty exhausted after my day at the museum. i concentrated on the ancient greek & egyptian collections b/c they were so strong. i saw the elgin marbles which are marble sculptures and friezes taken from the parthenon in athens. despite being somewhat incomplete and damaged due to various catastrophies throughout the ages, they are beautiful and impressive. they are also, however, controversial, as the greeks very much want the marbles returned to their native home. i saw an interview on the bbc & the british officials seemed quite indignant about keeping the marbles in london. i suppose having the marbles in london does make them more accessible to the world. still, it’s not really the brits’ choice about where to keep them. the unwillingness to try to make any sort of compromising arrangement is quite stupid.

in many ways, i find the uk to be far more progressive than the states, but i also find remnents of the old imperialist hubris. a few days ago, i watched some programming on the bbc commemerating the conflict in the falklan islands. the loss of life, which i think was like 200+, seems totally stupid to maintain control over such a small outpost of the british empire off the coast of argentina.

the british museum also has free guided tours of the various galleries throughout the day. i went along on two of them, and found them to be quite good. they gave a cohesive picture of the collections which would otherwise have neem missed in the shadow of the glitzier displays.

in addition to the mummies and the marbles, i got to see a very cool exhibit of illustrations of joyce’s ulysses which were not only clever and original, but also displayed a number of cool print making techniques. finally, i saw a completely amazing exhibit of modern chinese caligraphy. caligraphy has always been my favorite art form of the far east and it was really cool to see how the modern artists reinterpreted the ancient tradition. it was enough to make me reconsider that chinese character tatoo.

today, i skated a really cool old park called meanwhile II. to get there, take the hammersmith & city line to the royal oak stop. you should see a big overpass (i think they call them flyovers in the uk). follow the overpass for a little while and you’ll see the park underneath. this park is on the way to the big london park, playstation, so there were tons of skaters on the tube. while i’ve heard that playstation can get crowded, meanwhile II was deserted. this small park has a long, poured concrete mini-ramp type structure w/o coping, but with a waxed lip on one side. it’s gnarly and unforgiving, but really fun. next to the mini-ramp thing is a small street area w/ a long grind rail and a manual pad w/ a metal edge for grinding/sliding. also, there were the omnipresent bread crates. give the british kids enough crates, & scrap wood & they could build you a skatepark. it’s cool to see kids being resourceful instead of bitching about the quality of their town’s spots.

i’ve talked before about the whole “brotherhood of skateboarding” thing, before, & i’ve had another cool experience along those lines. on the way to meanwhile II, another skater aproached me on the tube platform & asked me if i was going to playstation. i said that i was going to meanwhile II. he asked if he could come along, and i said of course. he was this 27 year old, old-timer surfer from up north, & we just had a fun little session, riding and slamming on the concrete in the fading light of dusk. we talked a bit, bit mainly skated. that’s the cool thing about skating. go anywhere in the world, find the local spot, and you’ve instantly found kids who have at least one thing in common w/ you. i think that fact that skaters were somewhat persecuted for so long & the fact that it takes some passion to keep skating creates a certain bond between skaters.

jonesi & i skated until we were to broken & exhausted to safely continue. as we parted at paddington station, he gave me his mobile digits in case i wanted to skate later in the week. i rode back to bayswater, feeling ill after chugging a liter of o.j., but totally stoked on skating.

diagnosis excelent

Originally written 03/22/2002

I know this kid in one of my classes. He’s an American as well, and we sit together in lecture and talk shit. The other day he asked me if I found myself watching more TV since I moved to the UK. “I guess so,” was my reply.

That was an understatement bordering on an outright lie. I am glued to the idiot box. The halcyon days without network television back at the Sweet Life seem a distant memory. Now, I couldn’t tell you what the headlines are back in the states, but I can tell you what’s going on in Neighbours, Eastenders, and Hollyoaks. Together, the boys of flat 29/5 watch Top of the Pops, Ready Steady Cook, and German music television. We watch bad reality TV. We watch quiz shows. We yell at the screen and discuss team formations while watching football. With five so different personalities, the common addiction to television is one thing that we have in common. It brings us together. We are TV addicts. Only now, all of us certifiable adults, there is no mother to occasionally walk in front of the screen and urge us not to sit so close to the set.

My classmate asked me if I found myself watching shows that I would never watch back home. “Like what?” I asked. He paused for a moment and then guiltily replied, “Diagnosis Murder.”

I can’t believe I never watched this show back in the states. It’s amazing. I even find myself rushing late to class just so I can catch the thrilling climax of each episode. For those of you who have never experienced the magic that is “Diagnosis Murder”, let me provide a brief synopsis, in the hopes that my humble description can do justice to this masterpiece of syndicated television. Dick Van Dyke plays the dashingly handsome and always charming Dr. Mark Sloan, a doctor and medical advisor to the local police department. Van Dyke’s real-life son plays Mark Sloan’s son who is a hard-nosed detective on the police force. The regular cast of characters also includes the upbeat and affable young physician Jesse and the strong and smart medical examiner/token minority. Together this crew finds themselves involved in crazy adventures of lies, deception, intrigue, and yes, murder. It’s like the Hardy boys as each episode brings a new murder and a new adventure which is all wrapped up in the course of an hour (except for those excruciatingly blissful times when the viewer is treated to the thrilling “to be continued …” at the end of the episode). If only my life was filled with that kind of excitement, not to mention that kind of quick resolution. Oh and to be able to just put a pause on things, with only a “to be continued …” any time things got too hot to handle.

The show is like Matlock without the creepiness of an aging Andy Griffith. Van Dyke isn’t your spooky grandfather who you want to pack up back to the nursing home, he’s the hip great-uncle that all the women fawn over at the family reunion. Van Dyke’s Jay-Z makes Griffith’s Matlock look like Dr. Dre. Respectable once, but now all washed up. In fact, one almost forgets that Dr. Sloan is a senior citizen at all. I look at him as just another one of his thirty-something gang of slueths. Still, not wanting to leave anybody out of the magic, producer Van Dyke even had a two part storyline that included a guest appearance by, get this, none other than Ben Matlock himself!

But “Diagnosis Murder” isn’t just muderous fun. It’s also serious social commentary. While you’re watching something like that awful Angela Lansburry show, you just want that nosy old hag to shut up and stick her damn typewriter where the sun don’t shine. Not so with “Diagnosis Murder”. You’re lauding Van Dyke for his vision and astute sense of cultural relevence. “Diagnosis Murder” knows what’s up. It captures life in these modern times. It knows about our polarized media, our obsession with celebrity, the superficiality of the body politic. When Dr. Sloan stares condescendingly down at the cornered murderer, he’s not just condeming the murderer, he’s condeming us.

Is “Diagnosis Murder” a guilty pleasure? No way! It’s all pleasure and no guilt, baby.

miscilleny 3

Originally written 03/22/2002

I left the movie at 11. I had just gone, alone, to see The Royal Tannenbaums which I found to be a completely satisfying movie. Funny, yes, but something more than that as well. It reminded me slightly of Franny and Zooey which might be why I liked it so much. I was still laughing to myself about the kid who grimmaced, muttered “oh fuck”, and then scampered, like a bat out of hell, to the back of the theatre when a cadre of drunk middle aged women shoved their way into the row where we were seated.

I took the long way back to the flat. On sunny days, I like to walk through the Meadows, this big green park space in the middle of the city, but on dreary nights, I prefer to avoid it. It’s not that it’s dangerous, though the place is reputed to be a homosexual pick-up spot, drug bizarre, and general den of iniquity after dark (though I haven’t seen any of those things), it’s just too quiet and lonely. So quiet that you can’t really think. Your thoughts just echo around in your head, plinking around like that bouncing-ball sound in that one Aphex Twin song. So, I back-tracked towards Lothian road, turning at the brightly lit Bank of Scotland building. I passed the couple kissing in the doorway, ooblivious of the soft rain that was beginning to fall. I walked up the avenue, past the art college, and past the girl who was walked quickly past me in the way that someone walks away from an evening where something has gone very, very wrong. Cars and taxis rolled smoothly past, but the sidewalk was empty. The colorful storefronts of the daytime now stood muted in the quiet half-light of the lampposts.

I walked past the school where I sometimes pass the massses of uniform clad teenagers on their lunch break. When I was in school, I think I would have hated to have to wear a uniform, and would have raised quite a fuss about it and spouted rhethoric about how imposing restrictions on attire was a violation of our right to free speech (which I guess it is, albeit too often speech about classism and consumerism masquerading as gap logos). Now, though, I’m jealous. I lament my un-uniformed school days. The uniform just seems simple, elegant, innocent. I envision school days with happily homogenous pupils working studiously away at maths assignments or discussing schoolyard philosophy. I envision walking through the hallways of the school and seeing groups of students, cliques even, but without the rigid, self-imposed dress codes. Airy acoustic guitar music is playing in the background, maybe Nick Drake. The kids are smiling, everyone is getting along. No one is complaining about how hard the assignment was or how the upcomming exam fucks up their social calendar. It’s a perfect world. But then I snap out of it. Their school experience probably has all the cliques, the banality, the ugliness that defines high school for so many kids. If they seem to get on better, it’s probably just because they’re all rich enough to go to a school that has uniforms and at least have that in common. Still, the possibility that maybe they have things better than I had is bittersweet. I can’t decide if I want to smile sweetly at the schoolkids or grimace menacingly.

miscelleny 2

Originally written 03/22/2002

The last time I went skateboarding, before the glorious spring sunshine turned back to winter’s grey clouds and rain, I noticed this old lady walk into Bristo square as I noseslid one of the ledges. She looked like a normal old woman; well dressed, hair not disheveled, and not smelling of urine, but she still seemed detached, vacant. As she passed me, I noticed a can in her coat pocket. It was one of the big cans, not the shorter ones that contain Coke or Tango, but thr tall ones that usually hold beer or malt liquour. I remember walking down the beer aisle in the Tesco the other day and wondering how I’d make up my mind if I actually drank. Would I buy the pilsner? Or maybe the stout? But maybe the lager’s nice? It’s a complication I can do without. The woman sat down in a corner, removed the can from her pocket and slowly started to consume the beverages contents. She sat there for at least an hour, blending into the scenery, as insignificant as any other ungrindable static object amongst the wizzing melee of skaters. I skated. She drank. Totally alone. Surrounded by youth moving past her as though to represent the astonishing passing of her own years. I skated alone, but not really so. I never really talk to anybody, but there’s still that unspoken sense of acceptence-that common bond that is shared for the love of 7 layers of plywood and four urethane wheels. Earlier that day there was a little stair session. Just 4 stairs, but the takeoff was really sketch. All the little kids lined up to watch the show, and as I waited my turn I realized that, for the first time in a long time, I had that same feeling that I did furtively skating the stairs near the Dickenson College dorms, or behind the Sprint complex in Carlisle. At what point does one completely loose touch with life? When does it become completely impossible to once again taste those blissful morsels of youth? Was that why the woman had come to the square? The woman sat there, eyes glazed and unmoving as I left the square and headed back to my flat, back to assignments, exams, career plans, and taxes, back to adulthood, back to the clock slowly ticking towards irrelevence.

miscelleny 1

Originally written 03.22.2002

a man who so loved the world

should be built of less sturdy stuff

for what good is a broken heart

that mends with time?

london adventure day 1 (tues. 02.04.2002)

Originally written 02.04.2002. This might show up in ‘zine form in the near future if I have a chance to put it together when I get back to Edinburgh.

Summary:

• skate: South Banks
• eat: VeganThai Buffet
• sleep: Hyde Park Hostel

Today was mainly spent on transport from Edinburgh to London. I rode the Great North Eastern Railway for about five hours, stopping in Newcastle, York, and Peterborough before arriving in London. Despite the factthat flights around the UK are cheap and plentiful, I would saythat the best way to travel is by train. On the trip, I was treated to a picturesque view of the English countryside complete with rolling hills, freshly cultivated fields, sheep, and horses. The train was hectic and crowded, but it added an air of excitement and provided some good people watching, for instance the two kids who tried to launch sweets into each other’s mouths while their mom slept. Despite the cramped quarters, there was enough table space in front of me to get some work done. One thing about train travel, is that the travelers seem to expect hassles and crowds, whereas with air travel, so many tourists expect to be pampered and throw hissy fits about delays or having to wait in queue or having to, gasp, travel for 3 hours.

By the time I got to London, it was too late to hit any of the museums, so I checked into my hostel and headed out to skate. When I first arrived in london, I bought a 7 day travelcard. It cost me about £20, but I’m pretty sure it will save me money overall. If anything, it’s worth it for the convenience of nothaving to buy tube fare for every trip. They also sell daily (I think they’re called LT cards) and weekend travelcards. For the 7 day travelcard, one will need to have a passport sized photo. Bring one along to spare some expense, though photo booths in many underground stations will take your picture for £4.

I love riding subways. I think the last time I got to do so was something like two years ago when I went to NYC with my then-girlfriend Lisa. A subway system is definitely the best way to see a city. It’s fast, convenient, and easy to navigate. It makes it easy to fit more into a day’s itinerary, and it also opens things way up in terms of skate spots. There always seems to be shit going down with London’s underground in terms of delays and repairs, but they do a pretty good job of posting directions to circumvent the stalls.

I made my way to the classic London skate spot, the South Banks, so called because it’s a set of banks on the south bank of the river Thames, nested in the area’s entertainment complex. As you ride the banks, you can see the huge London Eye ferris wheel looming over you. You can get to the spot from either the Embankment or Waterloo tube stops.

From Waterloo: Turn left and walk towards the river and the Royal Festival Hall. Look for a train bridge/overpass thing and staying on the ground level, follow this bridge until you see some steps to the pedestrian walkway across the river. Just to your left, you’ll see a set of broad banks and steps underneath the bridge. These are, I think, the “Mellow Banks”.Turn right (east) and walk a couple hundred metres and you’ll hit the South Banks. Turn left (west) and you’ll be towards the also skateable Shell centre, the headquarters of the environmentally nasty Shell corporation. Grind their steps and ledges in contempt.

From Embankment: Cross the Thames on the Hungerford foot bridge. After corssing, turn left (east) and you’ll be at the South Banks.

The South Banks are a pretty good spot. There are some little grindable steps and some gnarlier steps into this enclosed area surrounded on 3 sides by banks. You can almost skate it like a bowl. At the top of the bowl, there are some grindable rails, and across fromthe bowl, there are a some more banks that are fun to ollie up/down/over. When I was there, some kids had also set up some road blocks to ollie and flip over. Down by the river, there is a low, waxed ledge. Most of the spot is covered, so it should be skateable even when wet, though this fact also makes the spot pretty dark.

The London skate scene seems so much harder than the Edinburgh one. Whereas the Edinburgh scene seems like good, clean, family fun, the London locals are gnarlier and seem to genuinely frighten the numerous South Bank pedestrians. Still, there were no problems with the police while I was there, and some local kids told me that the S. Banks are a non-bust. Even the Shell center will at worst get you kicked out by security, though this isn’t a problem on weekends. Back at the S. Banks, the beer flowed freely between tricks and the locals freely called each other “fat bastards” and sang the Shaggy/Ali G single. Still, unaccosted, I had a good skate.

So after a hard few hours of skating, I was starving. How does an all you can eat Thai/Chinese buffet sound? What? All the food is vegan? And it’s only £5 pounds at lunch, £6 at dinner and £2.99 to take away? Awesome!!! To get there, take the tube to the Tottenham Court Road stop. Go westabout a block on Tottenham Court Rd/Oxford Rd. You’ll see a Starbucks onthe corner. This will be Soho St. On the West side of the street there is another veg*n place, Govinda’s, that is run by some Krishinas. Take Soho St. and go East around Soho square. On the other side of the square, you’ll run into Greek Street. The buffet restaurant is a few doors down on the East side of the street. The word “Thai” prominantly marks the restaurant. Indside, I was greeted by an awesome spread – a tofu dish, seitan dish, spring rolls, eggplant fritters, rice, lo-mein, some awesome string beans, amazing fried potatos, various stir-fry dishes, and more. This place is open 12:30 – 22:00 and is well, well worth checking out.

After dinner, I headed back to my hostel, the Hyde Park Hostel at 2-6 Inverness Terrace, W2 3HY (phone (0)20 7229 5101). To get there, take the tube to either the Queensway or Bayswater stop. Follow Queensway road south to Bayswater Road. Go one block east and turn north and go a few steps up Inverness Terrace. The hostel is clearly labeled and on the east side of the street. The place is pretty well-equipped in terms of facilities. Every room has a sink, the bathrooms and showers are pretty clean, there is a luggage room, Internet access (with SSH even), and a free (albeit bare-bones) continental breakfast. Having booked only the week before, and being cheap, I opted to stay in an 8-person dorm. It isn’t all that bad, but don’t expect much privacy. The first thing I realized when I got settled in the hostel was that there sure were a lot of French kids there. They were everywhere! The French have a reputation for being a bit aloof, but that’s fine by me because I don’t really like making small talk with strangers. One doesn’t really realize how odly gregarious Americans are until one travels abroad. It’s strange. For instance, on the train platform in Edinburgh, this vacationing American family from California struck up a conversation with me asking for skate spots for their son. Overall, the whole hostel travel thing is pretty interesting. There are some cool kids, and it’s definitely a lot more social than a hotel. Still, to me it seemed that their were a lot of Euro-trash guys trying to put the moves on girls. Crazy. This is only the second time I’ve stayed at a hostel, but it definitely makes traveling more interesting. It’s great for people watching as you see everything from the French tourists to the kids dejected because of a failed job search to the odd older man sitting in the corner. Sitting at breakfast in the morning, it’s interesting to look around and imagine how the other kids are going to spend their day.

trains

Leaving for London tomorrow and I’m totally stoked a return (two-way) ticket to London only cost me £54. I’d kill for that kind of ease of transportation back in the states. I just love the flexibility and not having to worry about getting transport to the outskirts of town and the airport. My parents drove my brother 12 hours round trip back to college today, and that’s another trip that could have been avoided if the US had a more extensive rail network. Sigh. Oh well, at least I’m feeling clever doing the whole travel thing. I think it’s getting addictive. I was just talking to Yon this morning about her trip to Egypt and that sounded real interesting. I don’t really have the cash to do Europe this time, but London should be cool. I somehow managed to book accomodation only a few days in advance and have pulled some lists of skate sights and vegan restaurants off the web. That, coupled with Erin’s and Tim’s suggestions, should provide ample activities for my 8 day stay.