MONDAY, OCTOBER 22
LATE START
A late start. We were both tired. I hadn’t slept because of a blanket-less night. And because we were feeling a bit freaked out about the apartment complex, unsure of our safety and whereabouts. It’s always a little less comfortable arriving after (or in this case near) dark, and not being able to explore the neighborhood.
When we finally hit the street, we were unhinged. Chloe stayed close.
We headed for the tourist office in downtown where we could pick up a free map (I love those!). It was a long walk down Miles End Road and somehow it alluded us, and instead we found ourselves at a huge food market near Liverpool station, where we began our hampster-on-wheel-like circling of the food stands, a full three laps. Every imaginable kind of food was on offer. In the end, the choice was Ethiopian, which looked so enticing but was actually bland. I topped it off with some baklava and coffee; Chloe with a donar, and we took our treats outside, away from the bustle into the sunshine.
On a concrete ledge beside the steps to an office building, we settled and talked. We were both still under the spell of achievement pressure, as if travelling and learning from our travels alone wasn’t a big enough accomplishment. It would be nice to step outside the rat race (hampster analogy feeling apropos here!). Chloe again said she hoped to model. And I talked about trying to establish myself as a remote writer. Our lack of daily structure had us feeling topsy turvy. We decided to create our own kind of structure as we headed into an increasingly peripatetic lifestyle.
OFF TO NOTTING HILL
From Liverpool to Nottinghill, where we visited a high end consignment store and some elegant boutique shops. I felt a bit like I was in the upper east side of Manhattan as we headed to the Design Museum. So much of London reminded me of NYC. Miles End felt like Canal Street, though, the hustling street vendors are mostly from the Middle East in London.
DESIGN MUSEUM
After a brief rest on the gorgeous wooden steps inside the Design Museum atrium (I felt faint, probably from lack of sleep), we visited an exhibit of 100 Mile Village by Paul Barber, architectural models designed as housing solutions to accommodate the anticipated population increase among the low income and homeless in coming years.
It was bizarre how this envisioned city looked so medieval, with tiny homes, narrow passages and little open space.
The special exhibit, which had an entrance fee, was of “best design” in various categories from furniture to glasses. Looking through the book did the trick for us, and it was free!
DINNER WITH J AND R
J and R live in one of two of their townhouses on Camden Street. People are always staying with them in their homes. They are two extremely talented people who are also exceedingly generous. (Makes me think talent and generosity might go hand in hand.) J, an American with dual English citizenship, is a successful visual artist. R, a flamboyant, product of his English higher education background, is a chatterbox who directs and writes Librettos for operas, among other things.
J stayed sitting at a large wooden farm-style table when we arrived. The table, right next to the kitchen, was covered in “puddings” that J picked at throughout the evening. We were merely friends of a friend, which may account for the casual demeanor upon our arrival, or it may be J is like this with everyone. R is J’s counterbalance, flitted about the room like a bird freed from a cage. The two carried on, almost exclusive of us, with quick tongued banter, jokes and stories.
A worn Oriental carpet covered most to the wooden floor in the cozy townhouse. The adjacent room, with a higher ceiling, was also decorated in warm colors that complemented all the woods.
Dinner, served immediately, was cold potato soup that we poured into mugs (meant to be heated but not), crackers with hummus and peppers and spreads. These were “to accommodate Chloe’s veganism.”
R downed a beer. Wine was poured; first the bottle we brought, which was no good; and then one of the many that they had on hand. Chloe and I were worried that we were in another small meal situation when R announced his lamb with potatoes were ready.
The lamb had cooked for six hours and was as dry as sawdust. So much so that it prompted J to rise and get some water to pour over the top. She picked up the bowl of baby peas as well.
The conversation jumped helter skelter from art to politics, and everything in between. We learned they were working on an opera with Placido Domingo and Woody Allen. Good friends, both. That they knew Suzie Minkus, the Vogue fashion guru, who they said they would get in touch with for Chloe. Later in the evening, I mentioned something about Miles End and all the vendors there. R piped in that Muslims don’t assimilate in the UK, that all they want is to convert people to Islam. He said women shouldn’t be allowed to wear headscarves or veils. J, Chloe and I made faces at one another, ignored R, and the subject changed.
J talked a lot about the art world, which she knows well. Galleries aren’t selling art anymore,” she said. “People buy art as investments, not to hang on walls.” But her art/photographs belong on walls, so she uses Instagram as her gallery and sells copies of her originals online. She said she makes as much selling copies as an original. The concept of the gallery space as an online space, or off-the-wall, dovetailed with our experience at the Design Museum. We chose a book over the actual exhibition.
It was getting late– and through innuendo it was clear they were ready for us to leave — but I didn’t know how to gracefully get up and go, having never felt completely at ease.
A strange sound, like a sick, whining dog though vaguely human, sent R running to the door and into the street. “Come look,” he said (We understood it to mean with your coats and backpacks so you can leave). We gathered our things and went to the door. Under the streetlight in the soft rain, we caught a glimpse of a disappearing, bushy red fox tail. We followed in the fox’s path down the street, thinking about the fox in the Little Prince, then took the Tube back to the East End.
