Halloween In London

Too busy/tired/lazy to write a complete, original blog for Halloween, I've put together bits of emails and phone photos from the day. Sorry, but it'll have to do.


Oct. 31, 5:50 P.M.
The Clink hostel, basement kitchen

There are so many cool events going on tonight... I wish I could go to all of them. :)

http://www.timeout.com/london/halloween/

But, since I'm going with Katie (and her boyfriend, and some other friend of hers, and possibly other BUNAC people...), it has to be after 8, which already limits my options. It looks like we're going to the "Halloween Ghost and Murder Walks" one.

I'm in the hostel kitchen right now, and I put together a quick late lunch/early dinner with some pasta and steak, but there are some Italians sitting near me who totally put my pathetic little meal to shame. They're having pasta, too, but with some kind of a veggies and cream sauce thing, and lots of bread (it's only toast, but I guess it wouldn't be a meal without some kind of bread). Earlier one of them took my pepper grinder without asking, and I complained (I explained that they could use it, but I wished they'd ask next time), but their English was very, very limited, and as a nice gesture, they shared some of their wine -- so now I'm having a sweet, fizzy Italian wine to go with my substandard pasta dish.

Also, I stopped by the St. Pancras church today on the way back to the hostel. I've been wanting to check it out ever since I noticed the big pink banner inviting entry to its crypt gallery, and I figured what better time than on Halloween, right? God, it's truly the creepiest church I've ever seen... it's got huge gothic women statues/pillars, massive grey stones, a really unkempt garden and heavy wrought iron gates. I followed the signs to the "London crypt" onto the grounds; nobody else was there, but the gates were open. I wandered around the building, but I couldn't find a single open door; I tried pulling, but they wouldn't budge. So much for that Halloween idea. There was a list of gallery exhibitions -- I may have just missed the last day of the previous one; the next one opens on Nov. 6, and it's to showcase the work of some costume designer. Not exactly what I'd have expected in a creepy place like that, but I'll go when it opens anyway.












Nov. 1, 4:36 P.M.
Porchester Gate Flat, Bayswater

Well, I ended up going on the "ghosts and murders" walk, which was fun, but unfortunately Katie was unable to make it, and everybody else I know was at the BUNAC event. After the walk, I went to where I thought the event was, but was completely wrong... There are a number of pubs called the "Walkabout" and by then it was already too late to go back and look up all the other locations, so that was pretty much the end of my night. So, yeah, that part sucked. After that, I went to a convenience store, bought a couple candy bars (my only consolation: I've never seen those particular ones in the US), and took the bus back. I met a nice Australian guy and some American girl on the bus back, and they were really nice to chat to... the American girl came from Pasadena, of all places, but now she's a student at Cambridge (she agreed with me that London is so tame in the Halloween department... It could use some excitement like the WeHo Halloween Carnival!). It was also weird that I seemed to be an information dispenser from the moment I got that bus stop... I directed some British girls (not from London, I guess) to the Embankment station, and I told the Aussie which buses he needed to get to Angel Station in Islington. Yay, people are assuming I know stuff about this city! It keeps happening a lot, actually.

So... today I've moved into my new flat. I'm emailing you from Tatiana's laptop (I'm taking her place, actually) in my bedroom. I did lots of shopping today, mainly for bedding things; I've yet to do some grocery shopping, too. I hit up every department store on Oxford St. (OMG, Selfridge's is AMAZING!!!); what I wouldn't do for a simple Bed, Bath & Beyond or Linens 'n Things... it took me forever to get a decent feather pillow for under £25.

The Hostel Blues, Again

Yesterday I left the hotel with a full stomach and a healthy dose of optimism. Breakfast was included with the room, served buffet-style in the restaurant downstairs; it was delicious, filling and had a full variety of goodies. I read a complimentary copy of the Sunday edition of The Daily Telegraph with my meal, and as I left, I didn’t feel a great deal of disappointment for having to stay at the hostel again, mainly because I knew things would be much better in a week. For most of the remainder of the day, I was at the British Library, and in the evening I saw Burn After Reading with Nicole at a theater in Islington (INSANELY good, by the way; it was the kind of movie that left my mouth hanging open, aghast, for most of the time, and laughing during the rest of it).

Right now, however, I wish I were at the hotel. It’s almost 4 PM and the most I’ve accomplished is buy some groceries at Tesco* and eat a grilled cheese sandwich. I don’t know whether it’s because I haven’t showered, or because I might be on the verge of catching a flu or something, but I feel really down right now. Things are nicer now, since last night I didn’t have to sleep under that French jerk raining spit from the top bunk; my new roommates are more sociable, and even the nearest bathroom is a bit larger than the other one (which certainly makes dressing better). But, it’s still a hostel. The air smells vaguely of cigarettes and body odor, most of the inhabitants speak a foreign language, I’m constantly trying to make sure my things don’t get stolen, I’m afraid to use the shower (it’s filthy and not in any way private – it’s completely co-ed), and the internet’s not free to use (it costs £2 per hour). I’m unwashed, uncomfortable, and feeling generally pessimistic about finding a job (truthfully, I haven’t even looked since last week; moving around has taken its toll time-wise, and the search has gotten so monotonous… I really can’t wait to move into my new flat, when the comforts return and I’ve finally got my own address).

I can barely imagine doing anything tonight. I texted both Nicole & Katie last night about the movie, and Katie wasn’t able to come but offered to go somewhere tonight. I have no idea where or what I’ll be doing… maybe another movie? None of the other movies were too appealing. Maybe I’ll see Wall-E again? I’m not in the mood to go to a pub, and it’s really the only thing I can think of at this point. Oh, how nice would it be if the hostel had a spa… Or even just a private bathtub. I feel so grubby right now.

You know what? Forget it. I’m paying the 15/week unlimited fee and getting some internet usage…

*I completely forgot about the hostel’s “no outside alcohol” policy… I bought some California (yay!) red wine to make some Italian food with; there’s a £50 penalty fee if it’s found. Guess it’s staying at the bottom of the bag until I can move it to my new flat. Oops.

Life in The Clink (a first-time hostel experience)

When all is said and done, at least I had a nice night out. The part before that was uneventful, and the part following was, to put it lightly, annoying.

At the beginning of the day, I packed up my things in the guest room and Gill drove me to the Harpenden station and saw me off. I pre-paid at “The Clink” hostel, lunched and browsed the internet for a few hours at the British Library, and went back to check-in. They gave me a sheet (but no towel), told me about the free breakfast, and instructed me to check out by 10 the following morning. I’d made some plans with Katie to meet her and several other people at a pub in Shoreditch, but I still had a couple hours before that, so I took the time to explore St. Paul’s and the surrounding area (I’m sad to report that the pigeon lady of Mary Poppins is no more).

I won’t bore you with dialogues, but I had a great time at the pub with everyone. Katie, Matthew (Katie’s boyfriend), Nicole, Andrew, Keith, Keith’s girlfriend (I can’t remember her name), and Jackie were there. I had a pint of apple cider (not the Martinelli’s kind), meanwhile thinking it would be a really good idea to have some dinner, so it was little surprise that I was all gung ho about Jackie’s idea to go to a “Tennessee-style” chicken place up the street. Bad idea. I ordered 3 pieces of chicken, coleslaw, and an apple pie, which under normal circumstances (i.e., KFC or Popeye’s) would make me feel a bit guilty perhaps, but not so bad overall. The chicken was very greasy and the skin was baggy; the coleslaw had too much mayo & vinegar; and the apple pie was dry and tended to stick to the insides of the box, making it difficult and messy to eat. On the positive side, I got to see Andrew’s place; Nicole, Jackie and I accompanied him to his flat to eat. As far as inexpensive London flats go, it wasn’t bad; it was clean, and the location was convenient.

Back at the hostel, I gulped down a huge glass of ice water at the bar to make the greasy chicken feeling go away. When Nicole and I went to our separate rooms, it wasn’t long before the other 7 people living in my room showed up, and I suddenly had a much greater appreciation for my previous situation. Much greater. I don’t know how I can emphasize it enough. They all crashed into the room at about 2 AM, laughing loudly and speaking French; only one of them attempted a half-hearted excusez moi. They must have all thought I had a stick up my arse because they thought it terribly funny to talk about me (I’m not fluent in French, but I knew enough in the circumstances); the one bunked over me jostled the bed to excess and even tried to drop a huge wad of spit on my head when I was using the reading light at the end of the bed (the words tête and “spit” caused a lot of laughter in their conversation just then), the dried, foamy remains of which were still there in the morning. (I wonder, what’s the French word for “assholes”?)

The breakfast this morning wasn’t impressive… There was nothing but toast and cereal; to drink, there was tea, cocoa, and instant coffee. £18 per night well spent, right? Well under the present circumstances, even that would be just fine. I was only able to book for the one night, and now I can’t find a single hostel with a free bed for tonight. I’ve been frantically searching the internet for options, but the best I could find so far is located far away, and more expensive. Or, MUCH more expensive, and fairly central. It’s easy to get a little panicky at this point.