7/07/2015
We arrived at the sunshine yellow door of 97 Lollard street Lambeth, and took a walk around the area, Auntie Sarah telling us to walk like men when we were in the area to safeguard against muggers.
8/07/2015
In the morning we headed to Raw Press for Breakfast. I bathed using some sort of divine body soap that had Patchouli inside - I think there will definitely be patchouli in heaven.
Anyway, Raw Press is a little hard to find, hidden down a little flight of stairs that descends fro street level into a white walled, white light lit, clean cafe. The salads that Ellis and I got were so fresh, and quite innovative (they used cauliflower to make couscous, and zucchini to make spaghetti!) They also had classic flavour combinations like tomato and pesto, but it was the quality and freshness of the ingredients that really made it an amazing treat. (I've been craving fresh fresh tomatoes ever since, like Laura in Rossetti's Goblin Market...)
The rest of the day was spent battling crowds at oxford street. The ongoing tube strike meant that congestion is really fierce - thank god it's just 2 days. Respite came when we stopped in a LUSH shop, assaulted with smells and colours and helpful sales staff. I tried on 'rosy cheeks' and 'bbseaweed' in the shop - I felt like the Queen of Sheba as the sales girl massaged the masks onto my hands and washed it off with warm water and then towelled my hands dry. Another sales woman told me her philosophy as I dithered over which to buy - 'You change all the time in life - pregnant, young, old, birth, age, work. You can't stay the same, you must change as your life changes.' I got the seaweed one in the end, and the rosy cheeks as a tester (which can actually be used up to 3 times, if you scrimp a little!)
We also went into PRIMARK which gave me really heavy boots, as Oskar from Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close would say - racks and racks of clothes wracked and wracked by suffering.
We got lost getting home but all's well that ends well and we eventually found Bunny's house. Grandma called as we were getting ready for bed and told me 'I called you because I missed hearing your voice' which made me weep as I put down the phone, but I had two angels by my side and they hugged me and gave me space to dry up a little.
09/07/2015
We went to Bicester village today - truly a blessing to get out of tube strike struck London. And an even greater blessing to get the coach that went to Bicester village- we only just made it in time to the ticket desk! Ironically as we were driving to that luxury shopping outlet I read 'A testimony' by Christina Rossetti
'...Our treasures moth and rust corrupt,
Or thieves break through and steal, or they
Make themselves wings and fly away.
One man made merry as he supped,
Nor guessed how when that night grew dim
His soul would be required of him.
We build our houses on the sand,
Comely withoutside and within;
But when the winds and rains begin
To beat on them, they cannot stand;
They perish, quickly overthrown,
Loose from the very basement stone.
All things are vanity, I said,--
Yea, vanity of vanities.
The rich man dies; and the poor dies;
The worm feeds sweetly on the dead.
Whate'er thou lackest, keep this trust:
All in the end shall have but dust:
The one inheritance, which best
And worst alike shall find and share:
The wicked cease from troubling there,
And there the weary be at rest;
There all the wisdom of the wise
Is vanity of vanities.
Man flourishes as a green leaf,
And as a leaf doth pass away;
Or, as a shade that cannot stay
And leaves no track, his course is brief:
Yet man doth hope and fear and plan
Till he is dead:--O foolish man!
Our eyes cannot be satisfied
With seeing, nor our ears be filled
With hearing: yet we plant and build
And buy and make our borders wide;
We gather wealth, we gather care,
But know not who shall be our heir.
Why should we hasten to arise
So early, and so late take rest?
Our labor is not good; our best
Hopes fade; our heart is stayed on lies:
Verily, we sow wind; and we
Shall reap the whirlwind, verily.
He who hath little shall not lack;
He who hath plenty shall decay:
Our fathers went; we pass away;
Our children follow on our track:
So generations fail, and so
They are renewed and come and go.
...
A King dwelt in Jerusalem;
He was the wisest man on earth;
He had all riches from his birth,
And pleasures till he tired of them;
Then, having tested all things, he
Witnessed that all are vanity.'
It was still a nice day because Ellis and I had a long space to just talk - away from the noise of planning and travelling, and away from the city.
The sunlight on the way home was gorgeous, and I noticed a few quirky things around town that made me smile.
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| Represent austerity? |
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| Just casually wearing a silk waistcoat on my evening walk |
10/07/2015
Early today we bought tickets from Leicester Square for 'Miss Saigon' at the Westend, but we had the whole day stretched before us first and so we went to Borough market. A cornucopia of food and artisan pickles and white truffle oil and 1024829342 different kinds of mustard and cheeses and dried things and wine and street food. Basically all the really snooty food that tastes amazingly delicious.
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| This is a FLAXjack - a flapjack made with flaxseed. I had the vegan and sugar free version! |
We went around trying all the samples and getting sample seconds and thirds (especially of truffle oil on bread)The best thing I had was probably an AMAZING spirulina smoothie - it's deep green colour surprised me but it was really deliciously sweet and complex.
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| Ellis had some scotch eggs |
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| The best tea I've had in my life |
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| THAT GREEN SMOOTHIE |
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| We sort of got traffic light colours |
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Indian food craving satisfied |
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| Really really really |
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| REALLY REALLY REALLY GOOD |
We headed to Pimlico after that, for some charity shopping. A man in a cap and quilted jacket kept entering the Trinity Hospice Centre and demanding to be sold guitar at a discounted price, despite constantly be told that that was not possible, and not up to the jurisdiction of the shop assistants in the place.
Dinner was at Hyde Park under the shade of a chestnut tree. The chestnuts reminded me the seasons jigsaw grandma and I had been working on in Ixworth and I missed her with a pang. Uncharacteristically, I began focusing on negativity. I thought of how much I missed my grandma, I thought of how scratchy my throat was and how painful my eyes were and I just had a horrible little pity party in my head right there.
The worst part about feeling bad about yourself is that you never just inflict negativity upon yourself. Somewhere during dinner Ellis asked if she could have some water because her bottle was empty. Mine was half full, and yet the voice inside of me said 'Oh Miriam, you are so tired and so ill, you need it more. Oh Miriam, Ellis should have thought to bring her own water. Oh Miriam, you must feel so much worse than Ellis you need it more.'
And so I bluntly said, ' No, I need my water, I get thirsty too.'
And then I offered her some of the coconut pineapple juice that I had gotten at the tube station in the morning which none of us actually liked - that warped negativity inside of me thinking, 'well, if she really were thirsty, she would be glad of coconut water.'
Honestly. I felt so disgusted with myself afterwards. How could I moralise my actions so much when really all I was doing was being a really bad friend? The thing about pity is that it spills into your actions, and makes you focus on yourself and think 'I'm only human' to justify what is only selfish.
It was quite hard to write this on my blog - it is a part of myself I dislike, a part that rarely surfaces but that I know exists, a part that lives for me and me alone. And yet God calls us to live for Him. To place Him as our center and think of Christ's sacrifice on the cross as the reason we still live. If Christ could offer words of comfort to the agonised prisoner hanging on the cross beside Him when he himself was facing excruciating pain, I can offer my friend water, I can offer my friends time, I can look beyond my own tiny sphere of self interest to serve others. My history teacher told myself that there are no permanent friends, only permanent interests. But Christ teaches us a different lesson. He said our permanent interest is to be a permanent friend, brother, sister, lover, mother, father. A permanent person who tries struggles fails but keeps trying to live as he lived and offer unconditional love and kindness to those around him.
Anyway, at that moment as I lay back and realised what a despicable human I have the capacity to be, I wanted so much to be a bird and fly away.
We still needed to get to Prince Edward Theatre, and we got distracted twice by beguiling street acts, but eventually we got there!!! Running in and squeezing past our whole row of people (yes, we were those annoying theatre goers) but we got there.
The show was dramatic, tragic, and beautiful. I loved the running theme of dreams and disillusionment after sacrifice. But apart from that, I was struck by the beginning of the second act. The second act began with a song about the 'Bui Doi', the half Vietnamese and half American children that were a product of the war and a lasting reminder of it's failure. I thought it apt that the identity of a mixed child was presented through the lens of war - it seems necessary to choose a side, but it is impossible. And nothing good will come of remaining in war.
We took a taxi back to 97 Lollard Street, mistakenly taking it from near the theatre and getting caught in the horrendous city centre traffic. The meter jumped higher and higher with each passing minute and our hearts sunk lower and lower...
11/07/2015
We popped into the National Gallery spontaneously in the morning after Wei Xin and Ellis bought tickets to see Wicked. Outside there were quite a few street performers outside - the usual Yodas and Grim Reapers and silver and gold men, and a couple of artists chalking flags of the world on the ground, and (the best one) a man offering a cycling challenge. His bicycle turned left when the handlebars went right, and vice versa, and if you managed to cycle the bike over a short distance marked out by tape, he'd give you 10 pounds. He demonstrated quite a few times, making it seem easy, but I saw 3 people try to no avail!
In the National Gallery, we saw Van Gogh's sunflowers and his yellow chair, and another of Monet's Japanese bridge paintings and waterlily paintings. I wish I had more time to just stand and inhale Monet's delicacy and Van Gogh's strength and assuredness. I've always found it so strange that Van Gogh could project such confidence despite a crumbling mind. I suppose that no matter you situation, even if you are so desperate that you turn to yellow paint as a hopeful elixir, there is still a strength in every person - a strength that can overcome depression, raise children, protect a nation, or create beautiful art.
Then we went to Camden market, a real tourist trap, with artisan jewellery, cheap chinese fareastplaza-esque clothing, sops and candles and food, but I wasn't complaining - I loved it all!
Wei Xin got the best churro she's ever had, she and I shared a falafel wrap, and Ellis got a box of falafel and hummus and some paella.
We browsed Harrod's for a while after that, and then headed to St Paul's for evensong. I loved walking through it's doors, which had 'This is none other than the house of God. This is the gate of Heaven.' written on them. It was such a beautiful reminder that honestly, you are constantly stepping through the republic of heaven on earth, having little tastes of heaven, because heaven is where (oh, happy day!) there is never ending fellowship with God. As long as you are with God, you are in heaven.
In the evening, Weixin returned to Harrod's and Ellis and I had a good game of cards at home. We played Tai-ti, and made the stakes high - whoever lost had to tell one good and one bad thing about the trip. On a trip with friends, it's inevitable to learn the little things about them that annoy you beyond belief, but also the little things about them that make you fall in friend-love with them over and over.
12/07/2015
In the morning we headed for Brick Lane market, getting quite hopelessly lost on the way there. The streets in the Eastend are much more colourful than the Westend. Graffiti is everywhere, and street art is an obvious tradition. I saw an amnesty international sticker on a traffic light that read 'Love is a human right'.
I completely love the concept of love, but I wonder, is it really a human right? Or an act of grace? If anything, humans have no right to love. We lie, cheat, steal, shame, scorn and sin. And yet God loves us infinitely and purely and His love for us spills out of our broken vessel bodies like light through the leaves of a tree, dappling others around us in various shades of love - friend love, lover love, stranger love, animal love, patient love, sacrificial love...
In a meritocratic world, love seems the furthest thing to be given freely, and yet love not given freely is not love. Why then do we demand love given freely? Possibly because we have a perfect example of it, and we know that that is the best thing there ever is was and can be. We have all received love undeserved from God, parents, friends, lovers, and perhaps that is why every human should give love to others who are undeserving - because so are we, and we have been given this unlimited and beautiful gift. Love is an act of grace.
Brick Lane market was the least touristy of the three, and my favourite, if only for the abundance of raw, natural desserts (!!!)
I bought a chocolate tart from a Brazilian man whose creations were made entirely of natural ingredients and were raw and vegan! I asked him why he decided to begin making such a niche dessert, and what goes into them. He asked where I was from, and finding out that I was from Singapore, said that, like Singapore, Brazil has a blessed abundance of fruit and a culture of incorporating nature's goodness in every day life. He said that all it takes to make his beautiful beautiful cakes are 'Nature, time, and inspiration!'
The tart was certainly inspired, and very very good.
That afternoon we went to St Helen's Bishopgate church. It seemed traditional on the outside, like the other churches I've been to, but the inside had (gasp) YOUNG PEOPLE HALLELUJAH!!!! It's certainly a sad sight to see very very few young people in the churches in Suffolk, and it was so encouraging to see a thriving youth and young adult community in St Helen's Bishopgate. We were introduced to a man who brought us over to eat cake and have something to drink, and who introduced us to Sophie, a Korean who has lived in England for 18 years.
We had a sermon on Jonah (a very good one that I enjoyed, despite my languor) and after the service Sophie kindly offered to direct us to the bus so we could get home. On the way out, we met someone from Impact Australia, which, like ImpactUK is under Project Timothy. I'd heard of ImpactUK, and had been asked to it, but was hesitant about going. Meeting that guy was a godsend - it sounded so useful as a way to ground me in God before I head over to the UK to study!
Wei Xin and i sat together on the top level of the double decker bus, just like old times on the 153 coming home from SCGS, and we watched London through grey, rain streaked windows.
13/07/2015
We went back to Raw Press in the morning because all of us were completely willing to spend some of our last pounds on their acai bowl.
After that, we headed over to Westminster - just so we could say we'd seen it! On the way, we bumped into a policeman called Timothy Mills who smiled CONSTANTLY.
The Victoria and Albert Museum was fantastic-they had an exhibition on luxury, where artists used unusual means or painstaking methods or expensive materials to create an opus, all giving different interpretations on what constitutes luxury.
I loved a collection of lights, each encased within the head of a dandelion. There was such beauty and potential in the seeds of a dandelion head - a sort of mirror to the potential and inspiration in each human being, for which light is a common symbol. And yet there was such delicacy in it too - one could blow out the light by blowing the dandelion heads just as one would blow a candle. The ephemeral nature of the dande-lights reminded me how short life is - one puff and we're gone, but if we can burn brightly while we live, that truly is luxury.
I also liked a piece where gold was used in memory preservation - to create maps, encyclopedias and atlases, showing how memory really holds more value than even the most valued metal on earth. And yet there was also a critique, I thought, in how gold was used to replace words or drawings. It was intended to symbolise worth, when really it changed not the worth of the atlas. The atlas derives its worth from its recorded, remembered information - using gold was it was a mere shift in colour. And so when it comes down to it, although memory is a luxury, something held in high regard by cultures globally, it is also commonplace. It does not need to be gilded in gold or covered in jewels, it is preserved in the humble hearts and minds of every person, in words and thoughts, and sustained not by its net worth but by the unstoppable human desire to remember.
After a short stop in the science museum (I looked for but did not find Grandad's name in the exhibition about Churchill's use of science in war time - surely someone who improved the radar would be worth a mention!) We ate lunch in Hyde park, and then walked over to Maitre Choux, which had the most beautiful and expensive eclairs.
Wei Xin and Ellis went to watch Wicked that night, and I was in charge of submitting our online check in and arranging our seats on the aeroplane. I decided after that to walk down to 'FOOD AND WINE TILL LATE' to buy some dates. There were three different sorts of dates which confused me and so I brought them to the shop keeper and asked how they were different. We had met him another night, when Ellis bought Almond milk, and we had told him we were from Singapore, and he told us he was from Afghanistan and that he respects Singapore because it is a country that recognises that education is beautiful.
This time, he kindly exaplined that the dates come from different countries - Iran, Saudi Arabia, and Oman. His favourite are the Saudi ones, which have a more complex taste, and are more expensive, but when he asked what I would use them for and I said baking, he recommended the Iranian ones, which are softer and therefore easier to blend. I was completely ready to just trust him and buy the dates, but he insisted on letting me taste them for myself, opening a box and letting me have a date - it was like a caramel drop! He then went around offering the rest of the customers in the shop dates, and I got three new boxes to buy home, as he refused to let me pay for the date I'd tried. Instead, he opened a packet of the Saudi dates and let me have two!
As I was buying my boxes of dates, he introduced me to his fellow shop keeper and friend, who is from Pakistan. He had the most beautiful smile, and smiled often, especially when he saw me buy three boxes of dates! He received an MBA in accounting in Pakistan, but in England he makes his living through a more humble sort of accounting - shopkeeping. When he found out my name was Miriam, he said 'Mariam...a Muslim name!'
I smiled and said 'Yes, and a Christian name too I think, from the Old Testament that we share,"
He laughed and very tactfully explained how Muslim and Christian faiths aligned until the one he calls 'Jesus the Prophet'.
I spent so much time talking to them, leaning against the counter with my three boxes of dates forgotten, that the Afghanistan man disappeared and reappeared with a bottle of apple juice and some cups, and poured us all a cup and let me break the Ramadan fast with them as they drank the first liquid they'd had since the sun had risen! It was so intimate and friendly, and I was so sad to leave. They wished me safety for my flight back, and said that if I ever came back to Lambeth I had two friends there always open for a visit. I do hope I see them again.
I was smiling all the way home.
14/07/2015
'One by one they were all becoming shades. Better pass boldly into that other world in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age.' - James Joyce, Dubliners The Imperial War Museum was probably the best one we'd been to! I only wish we had more time...
I suppose that desire for more time was my presiding feeling for the whole day - to leave England after a month seemed like I'd spent ages there, but it never felt long enough.
We packed and left in time, lugging our heavy suitcases to Lambeth North Station. Two boys in the next carriage threw little white sweets at us through the adjoining windows.
Change at Piccadilly.
Train to Heathrow. I was reminded of the heart wrenching departure in Like Crazy.
Wei Xin's suitcase was a mere 200g shy of the 23 kg limit!
We almost missed the transit train to our departure hall, but made it by running.
Phew.
A smooth flight, as we slipped from England's grey skies into a night, and then woke up to sunlight so strong that I opened the window by cracks.
I will never get tired of this view.
Arrival.
Customs.
Heart swells.
Home.
So fun!! I thoroughly enjoyed this post. Also didn't know you were capable of taking such beautiful photos!
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