Open letter

Dear London (or maybe LOCOG?),

I am a bit angry, and you know that I don't like saying this in public.

On Monday, we all woke up to the hangover of the Olympic games. Tourists are still wandering around the tube spending their last days in the city, BBC kept reporting until very early in the morning talking about the games, and Metro greeted us good morning with a full-on colour spread of the recap of last night.

But I am sort of traumatised right now. It is the second night  that the great Olympic Ceremony gets spoiled and we end up watching it at home.

See, without trying to sound pretentious, I have, very successfully, planned a lot of my weekends for the last few months, for me and my housemates to do things around and have lots of fun. 9 out of 10, all the planning was spot-on executed, with just minor incidents (easily amended). But in these Olympic Games, it has just gone wrong all the time, and my proud title of Events Organiser has been dangerously damaged.

I need to maintain my reputation.

For the closing ceremony I tried to apply all my management skills, so I carefully organised an agenda for the day. For the evening, we prepared a picnic bought in the morning (thanks 3x2 Waitrose) -- at the end, we ended up spending much money that buying food at stalls -- with amounts of food and drinks equivalent to 3 days of fasting, blankets and umbrellas for a foreseeable rainy evening and double the enthusiasm than the previous time. At the end of the day, it was the closing ceremony, who would like to watch it?. Unfortunately, as the Opening Ceremony left the standards above expectations, and even though Haggerston Park was the perfect place last time and it was recommended by certified sources, the queue when we reached there was longer than the queue around the Vatican on a 3rd of August. Reaching almost two hours before didn't help at, as the venue was apparently at full capacity already. But we went there to stay. We could not fail YET* another time again, so we kept queuing ignoring the one-out one-in warning until show time.

*I keep saying YET again. For the opening ceremony we failed by going to Hyde Park in search of free big screens.

And the doors didn't open.

We had failed again and it was too much to risk it to Victoria Park (chance to take Boris Bikes?) and I had no recollection of Boxpark showing it in this occasion.

With the tail between our legs and the cans of, now warm, Pimms snoring in our bags, we switched to mango Rubicon and headed home once again, to at least, feel safe in our basement.

Just when the defeat was tasting bitter than ever, we realised that this ceremony was not like the opening. I sat in my sofa stuffing myself with all my 3x2, speechless of what I was watching. Rumours of One Erection Direction playing while we were heading home were confirmed, just as I saw George Michael on stage boring the crowd in his leather total look (to the amusement of my friend R, that just before GM showed up on stage, he asked me: - Is he in jail right now?). By that time, Twitter was on fire praying for GM to sing Last Christmas and at least my bitterness was being washed away.

At that point, the ceremony was turning into a massive mash-up / variety show that was feeling a bit like a joke when the producer of the show gave Jessie J stage time for more than 3 songs, with an outfit to pretend that she was half naked (or pretending to be just covered in 'jewels') singing that it is not all about the price tag, while riding on a Rolls Royce with no seatbelt on (hello? Health & Safety?).

I suffered something close to a sugar rush caused by the failed picnic and the fact that I was not enjoying what I was watching. In fact, I was about to go to bed when Norman Cook, also known as Fat Boy Slim, showed up in a giant inflatable octopus DJing a couple of his hits from the 90s that at least, used to be mega tunes.

And the Spice Girls also showed up (note that I am ignoring the fact that Ed Sheeran also showed up to sing semi-acoustic backed up with some guys from Pink Floyd), and at least we laughed a bit watching Boris shaking his bootie (while we all secretly were hoping for another zip-line moment to rejoice ourself photoshopping it).

Monty Python had their slot too.

London (or LOCOG), I must point out that I am totally conscious that the showtime timeline is proving totally wrong in my arguments, but it is due to the confusion of the day of the event that still prevails today at this point. But you should not blame it. Russell Brand showed up at some point dressed in skinny trousers stolen from Alice in Wonderland, surrounded by women and singing through a megaphone (and he was not singing live). Summer of '69 meets circus and who knows what. Again, I was speechless.

At some point Beady Eye showed up, and sang Wonderwall. For some reason, it felt painful to see Liam.

All of a sudden, out of the blue (I keep citing Adele for some reason), British fashion. BOOM!! the QUEENs of the Catwalk. Naomi and Kate where there for the world to see. Obviously, this helped to build up the WTF sensation up to that point.

And talking about Queen, Muse was there, playing their new Olympic song. Although Matthew Bellamy's goatee is not my cup of tea (somebody please tell him, it does not look good on him), his glittery black suit was totally appropriate for the cheap Vegas show that was going on, and still he was totally pulling it off.

Can't remember the order, but at some point, the distortion pedal was whacked by the (rumoured -- gotta love the old discussion forums) grey wig-ed up Brian May, that at least managed to wash away (yet again) the mega cheesy show that we were all witnessing.

Then, from the corner of my eye, and my screen, I saw a leg with a flesh-coloured stocking, and I swear I started praying to avoid my worse fears: Please, dont let Jessie J be in stage ONCE again. My prayers didnt work, and I was there, watching it speechless, and I thought about throwing my leftover meal-deal hoisin duck wrap to the TV, but refrained of doing so because, after all, it was not the TV's fault. But still, with all the great musicians in the UK, why does Jessie J have to sing 4 times?

Oh, Kaiser Chiefs were also there. They should have played I predict a Riot, at least for a bit of piss-taking.

But yeah, Queen + naked lady finished a very loud and terrible We Will Rock You (how predictable) and very abruptly Boris came back on stage to do what he likes the most: waving flags (no embarrassing situation, unfortunately). And that was it: the handover to Brazil, with also a very blah show, that not even Alessandra Ambrosio could cheer up, because, let's admit it; she may have an amazing body (Victoria's Secret Model) but she is not the best example of brazilian moves at all (zzZZZZzz).

I went to bed glad that I didn't pay for it.

And then, apparently, The Who closed the act.


By the way London, for your information, please find bellow 15 things that sum up the event and makes us realised about what we have learnt from the ceremony.

http://now-here-this.timeout.com/2012/08/13/15-things-we-learnt-at-the-olympic-closing-ceremony/

But well, in spite of the jinx, I must admit that the games. I actually miss them a bit.

Plus wandering around London was better than ever during this fortnight. 

But still, you'd better make it up for the failure, London.

Yours truly,

Banana.

PS. Where was the Queen, by the way?

The Wick

On Friday, we all woke up with the news that the London Pleasure Gardens had gone into administration, most probably caused by the big fiasco after cancelling Bloc for yet unclarified reasons (major Health and Safety issues). Shame, because I attended the premature opening the last day of June and I had a blast (most probably because it was the first sunny day of the summer up to that date. In my opinion, the place had potential, and therefore, I decided to design my own t-shirt to mourn the loss, as a thoughtful memory of the place.

The amount of effort put on my tribute t-shirt needed to be compensated with a fair amount of street food and new discoveries around the food, so I forced my friends C and K to Dalston at night, to the highly recommended Street Feast now in Dalston (didn't like it in Shoreditch and didn't tried it when in Camden). Shame that I have no evidence of the murder, but our Rib meat roll was famous on Friday amonst the visitors and acted as an improvised PR for the stall ('The Ribman'). In the twilight of the night, before heading to the parking lot where the market was placed, we, very insightfully, managed to discovered a quite tempting roof terrace. After digesting the 'celebrity' sandwich, we run curious to said building for a sneak peak: and it was totally worth it.

The Print House Gallery in Dalston opens its doors for us to enjoy their roof top, called by them Roof Park. Nice views.

But the hightlight of the weekend was undoubtedly the plan for Saturday. Bravely, K and I decided to adventure ourselves to the far East, where no-one has gone before -lie; it is actually near the Olympic site- (I just enjoy saying it)

Suggested by Le Cool London and apparently sponsored by Fiji Water, the Artesian Wanders (summer edition, because the Winter one, wanders -haha- around Southbank -saves for later-), has its starting point at Hackney Wick. A mere one station away from the, now crowded, Olympic Site but yet unexplored, it is an area surrounded by green and warehouses. Still industrial. The first thing I noticed was a Christiaan Nagel's mushroom (looks like the guy has been very busy lately, for my enjoyment), which certified that I was in the right place, and unprecedented clean streets compared to mine. Oh wow - I thought to my self-, while looking at the map finding the first landmark to find.

A shroom from Christiaan Nagel acting as a Northern Star in our route...

It was there really, hidden between some now up-cycled warehouses, in Prince Edward St turned into studios, the very appealing Hackney Pearl, that unfortunately I was not hungry enough to try and next to it, SEE Studio, hosting a very interesting exhibition about how the locals from the Wick lived the Olympic constructions. Also, thousands of copies of THE WICK paper, created, edited and printed by them, and of which I saved a copy to carefully study at home.

We found a giant shed with a cool exhibition right next to the Pearl. I forgot to ask the guy about his name. Shame on me. Gnosis by RSH, in Wallis Rd.

A quick visit to Imperial & Standard and then we managed to head to the (now I know it's famous) White Post Lane.

First thing to notice: the walls decorated with what looked to me like traditional brand logos from early XX century. After doing my homework and researching more about it, I was actually not far from the truth: It was a regeration project by the arty Bread Collective, to pay some sort of tribute to what Hackney Wick used to be: terribly industrial landmark, house of famous or less famous British manufacturers of some sort (and also land of post-war debri). The result was a really impressive street painted with those logos from the old times from brands (I strongly recommend the reading about each individual one in their blog) most probably are still in the memories of a lot of people. The project is called The Walls Have Ears, and is the sort of thing I really enjoy finding more things about. I think it is a great idea and the execution was brilliant (you gotta love a bit of colour and typography in your street).

And when you least expect it... boom... An unseen CityzenKane

The corner on the opposite side of the road, advertised a cafe called Electric Matchbox but unfortunately, a guy, closed the fence behind us (leaving the door opened) and that and the fact that it look dead from the basement made us walk back to the main street. Had potential though. I had a funny feeling that those stairs could take us to a nice roof top or something like that.

Is somebody in there?

But then we headed towards a sign that announced The Yard but couln't find it very easily (we didn't put much effort on it, must admit), but by looking to our right side, towards the canal, we noticed a big White Building (actually called so).

I toof Hackney Wick and a map of the area + Fish Island (they were included as posters on the last edition of The Wick - just put it on my living room, because I'm THAT cool -). It is a very nice map, though.

Just found it funny. Looked nothing but funny, the place. (**Update. I just Googled the place. I am not going to link it)

It was actually at that moment, when we decided to stop for a bit and take a look at the views of the canal. A dark grey cloud was constantly threatening us, but we couldn't miss the opportunity of sitting al fresco. We were immediately tempted by the incredible smell of freshly made pizza coming from the building. What it actually was: The Crate, a microbrewery slash pizzeria by the canal. 

So we sat in an empty communal table and waited for our Sage and truffled potato pizza (would have never tried the combo myself) and drank the house cider while philosophising about our lives. It was ten minutes after, probably halfway though the pizza and the idea of leaving it all and moving to a warehouse, when the graphite-grey cloud rained on our parade. Literally. Nevertheless, the day was still too beautiful, so we all run inside to keep sharing our tables until the shower was over.

Cyclops, Mighty Mo, Gold Peg and Sweet Toof

The mighty pizza...

Cool lamps. Old dodgy mattress springs and wire.

And we went back to the route

At that point, really overlooking then Olympic site (I refuse to put ANOTHER picture of the Stadium), I managed to find more of my street art heroes in less than 3 meters around, just in a very humble corner in the middle of Hackney Wick.

Jonesy

Another CityzenKane

I think I read somewhere that this was of the most earliest Stik in East London. Should I call it Vintage Stik?

A bit of Kinska, that I though I had lost her. But there she was...

And we kept walking the canal up to Victoria Park. 

And the rest is history...

I ended up on Sunday hunting for Tropical Clusters around Shoredtich, but that's another story.