Tag Archives: London
5 February 2010 CommonWealth in Columbia Heights
The cask ales at CommonWealth in Columbia Heights, D.C. are a reminder of Boom Times in W1, London. Tonight’s Oliver’s Bitter is a 20 ounce imperial pint teasing my emotions with fondest memories of The Strand, and of Trafalger Square … but where? The Cole Hole, perhaps … beside The Savoy? What did I drink at The Coal Hole? What did Oscar Wilde drink at the Coal Hole?
A young couple is seated at the table beside me. Small talk ensues. Very small talk. Then he lets slip a statement beginning, “My last girlfriend…” But he recovers quickly with: “So what’re you drinking? Beer? Cider? Wine?”
The waitress comes by and they order ciders and I get my bill. $31 plus a $10 tip. As I get up to leave, the guy asks his date, “So what kind of peanut butter do you like?” A table for one, it seems, is a lonely freedom.
Tags: Columbia Heights, CommonWealth, D.C., London, restaurants, The Coal Hole
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25 November 2009 Advice to a Friend in London
Sorry it took me so long to get back. Inboxes get overwhelmed. One of my favorite London scenes was Smithfield’s Meat Market at 2:00am. It’s where William Wallace was executed outside the City wall, where butchers sold & slaughtered livestock. It’s now a massive wholesale meat market that opens at 1:00am(?). Walk among the stalls, where in the back are hung hundreds of skinned dead animals and butchers with razor sharp knifes and thick hands cut through bone like butter. Take pictures. Then go to one of the butcher’s pubs, which have special medieval-issued liquor licenses to open until 2am. Smithfield’s is only a few blocks away from St. Paul’s Cathedral.
Go with your boyfriend; bring iPods; split up; take pictures; reunite; go to the pub & revel in butcher slang, a metaphorical chaos born of latenight hard negotiations. And the photo ops are outstanding: The butchers. The suppliers (a world of ethnicities from a city of ethnic restaurants). The steaks. The puddles. Everything about the place is a London album’s dream. Then we’d buy two wheels brie. They barely fit in our fridge and the only other foods we kept in our apartment were bread, peach preserves, and emergency Ramen. It’s a good way to go. Wholesale, wheels of brie were 8 pounds each.
I could ramble on and on about that place. But it seems you leave soon so here’s a list:
- The Coal Hoal on The Strand, 2nd Floor, Oscar Wilde & co. hung out
- thechurch.co.uk
- Lunchtime concerts at St. Martin’s in the Field, always
- Turner’s “Rain, Steam, and Speed” in the National Gallery
- The St. Stevens Tavern across the street and beneath Big Bend
- And there is no finer Indian food on Earth than on Brick Lane. Even Ghandi agreed.
- Also, The Wargrave Arms just off Edgware Road on Brendan Street in Marylebone. Ask for Gary or Michael. Tell them Pablo sent you. I once tended that pub; and Gary is a worldclass gentleman from Ireland.
Lemme know if any of this works out.
Oh, and Radiohead was my “Smithfield’s Playlist”.
Tags: 2005, London, Smithfield's Meat Market
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15 October 2009 Wonderful.
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13 October 2009 L’Absinthe Noir
On the night before I left for nine months in London, in August of 2004, an old hippie whispered into my inbox the location of what he claimed was the only place in London that (illicitly) sold black absinthe. And so on my first day in sweet Londontown, I walked to the place, spoke with the vendor, bought an unmarked green of the foul liquor, and split it with a like-minded Russian I’d met only hours before. I was, of course, ill-prepared for the intense takeover the wormwood launched on my brain & body. This led to a near-episode while drooling, ducking, & shouting gibberish in the queue (which at the time, I still called “the line”) at a tastelessly Americanized locale called the Sports Cafe.
After being evicted from the queue by several of my classmates whom I had never before met, I was shuttled by taxi back to my flat where I passed the-fuck out terrified in a corner until 3am. It was then that I woke up jet-lagged and tripping my ass off and couldn’t go back to sleep. The only reasonable thing to do, it seemed, was to leave the flat & get as lost as I possibly could in my new home city. Four hours later, I emerged from Covent Garden just as my hallucinations melted into a calm euphoria. It was then that I first set eyes on the great Trafalger Square.
Tags: 2004, college, London, Trafalger Square
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11 September 2009 The Tomato Arab’s Final Offer
I fondly and vividly recall my last breakfast ingredient run to the tomato Arab’s side shop between Edgware Road and Cato Street in London’s Marylebone.* I’d begun the habit of eating a tomato on a day in September during my first steps central London. Back then, the tomato Arab charged me 55p, the sticker price. None months later, I was down to 25p, a regular‘s price, and apparently only 5p more than he charged his own mum.
“I leave London today,” I told the tomato Arab.
“Ohhhh. Okey. Vedy good. Be safe. Tomato is 30p.”
“But it’s been 25p for the last six weeks.”
“Naaaaaah…you chure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay then 25p.”
“What about 20p?”
“20p!”
“It’s my last breakfast in London!”
“20p! Are you crezy?! My mother pay 20p to me and I tell her later for five more p, men! Aw ma God!” He shook his head in exaggerated disbelief. “…20p. You too crezy, men.”
*Note: I was running late that morning and didn’t have time to visit the egg Pakistani so that I could make my daily omelette. He charged me 15p per egg, down from 30, and I’ll forever wonder if he’d have sold me my last two eggs for 10p each.
Also posted in the Open Salon.
Tags: 2005, Cato Street, Edgware Road, London, Marylebone, regrets, W1
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10 September 2009 Capitol Objectives
Two goals summarize the motivation behind my life’s government since I graduated from college three unstable years ago. The first is my only remaining lifelong goal to be acknowledged as a great writer. The second is to move to London and remain permanently relocated there or in Europe.
The first is most-conveniently achieved through an iPhone and Macbook’s respective functionalities. Thus, I will first focus on purchasing one of each: an iPhone by the end of the month; a Macbook by December.
After purchasing these technologies, I will save for my final exodus from these United States.
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27 August 2009 L’Absinthe Noir
On the night before I left for nine months in London, in August of 2004, an old hippie whispered into my inbox the location of what he claimed was the only place in London that (illicitly) sold black absinthe. And so on my first day in sweet Londontown, I walked to the place, spoke with the vendor, bought an unmarked green of the foul liquor, and split it with a like-minded Russian I’d met only hours before. I was, of course, ill-prepared for the intense takeover the wormwood launched on my brain & body. This led to a near-episode while drooling, ducking, & shouting gibberish in the queue (which at the time, I still called “the line”) at a tastelessly Americanized locale called the Sports Cafe.
After being evicted from the queue by several of my classmates whom I had never before met, I was shuttled by taxi back to my flat where I passed the-fuck out terrified in a corner until 3am. It was then that I woke up jet-lagged and tripping my ass off and couldn’t go back to sleep. The only reasonable thing to do, it seemed, was to leave the flat & get as lost as I possibly could in my new home city. Four hours later, I emerged from Covent Garden just as my hallucinations melted into a calm euphoria. It was then that I first set eyes on the great Trafalger Square.
Photo by Matt Cornish | Licensed CC
Tags: 2004, absinthe, college, London, study abroad
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