Weeds

I am sitting right now in one the first places I ever had the chance to eat out in London when i moved in. The first couple of weeks I was not leaving in my current house. I was in a youth hostel in Pimlico, in Belgravia Rd, very close to Victoria Station. This is it, Pimlico Fresh again, and I just witnessed on the funnies things of the week.

I was seating by the window, when a couple of Spanish guys were looking for a place to sit, and quietly I made them some room as I was perfectly understanding every word they were saying. But when the place emptied a bit, I sat in the communal tables to have my space, and let's be honest, to have a nearby socket in which to plug by phone as it drains of battery for tethering the internet connection to the iPad.

Two friends seated in the table in front of me, but one of them, his voice was disturbingly, as being the living embodiment of Darth Vader, if it wasn't for a) him being a hipster and b) blonde. I want to think he had a massive party last night and as a result, his voice has the deepest darkest pitches I have ever heard in my life, not counting Bon Jovi's vocoder, but never mind.

A group of middle age women siting besides me just called one of the waitress attention: 'Excuse me, excuse me! There is a very strong smell of Marihuana coming from that corner!!!'. The whole cafe just looked at the corner where two women were having their own conversation. All eyes were on them but they realise they   were talking about the actual corner. Amazed, the one facing the public, looks at all of us confused and waving some jazz hands she replies with an accent: 'Hey, I am Dutch but I'm not smoking!' and the whole cafe laughs effusively.

By the way, the couple sitting in front of me just asked for a piece of carrot cake that has more icing than cake, but still, I'm tempted to put my most innocent face and ask them for a scoop of it to try. It really looks amazing.

Darth Vader has baby pink socks.

After a quick look from the counter, two of the waitress went outside to examine the source of said intoxicating substance. Left, right, they don't see anything. And all of a sudden, an invisible wave of the allucinogic plant slaps us in our faces, like somebody would be right in front of us smoking. The group of ladies, still horrified about the fact that somebody has smoking a spliff near the premises cannot understand how the source has not been found yet.

But I started the morning running away from the Jubilee festivities. I didn't miss last year Kate and William's wedding, pretty entertaining environment at Hyde Park, but this barely springy weather plus the constant threats from TfL to avoid the public transport in zone 1 at all cost has really put me off this year. I considered attending todays parade, but for the sake of a potential cold and somebody stepping on my feet, I still headed south to Sloane Sq to the Saatchi Gallery. Almost a dozen of galleries free of cost kept me entertained while the hordes of people started clearing the tube, on time to my way home.

The photographies from Katy Grannan were impressives. Are the ones which are portraying the whole Out of Focus exhibition. Brilliant. 

Heartbroken boyfriend maybe? (Marlo Pascual)

Octopus Face (Yumiko Utsu)

Good Old Lizzie (Chris Levine)

And the canvases from Ana Tzarev, a Croatian artist. It was not really the pieces themselves what I liked, but physically them. It all consisted on different flowers in big canvases using big blobs of oil paint, so my engineering and stingy mind thought inmediately: what is the cost of each of these pieces, just by their paint cost? I am pretty sure that is a fortune, plus imagine the finger pain after squeezing all those thousands of tubes. Let's make an estimation:

Winton Oil Paint tubes: 6 GBP average

Dimensions of each blob: 1x1x1 cm (approximate) 

Volume of each blob: 1 cm3 = 1 ml

Number of blobs in 10x10 cm of canvas = 100 blobs = 100 ml

Dimensions of canvas: 2x2m = 200x200 cm = 40,000 blobs.

Let's not be exaggerated and round that to 20,000 blobs. 

Still, that equals 20,000 ml.

Each tube is 200 ml, therefore, it is needed 100 tubes of paint.

100 tubes x 6 GBP = 600 pounds worth of paint (+ price of canvas).

Amazing. I loved it. 

Massive -undetermined material- flower in the middle of the room. Not that I would put it on my living room, but big enough to be amazing.

Then I arrived at this very disturbing room, (I don't really remember which floor), a display by Richard Wilson kept me for 5 long seconds ridiculously confused. There was a very strong smell of crude oil, due to some of the parts proceeding from old oil installations. It was very weird, it was an empty room and some kind of channel on the left. Looked like the room was filled with water, dark water, or maybe oil because of the smell. Then I thought it was a very deep room, and in the middle, they had laid a mesh to avoid visitors falling into the pit. And finally I realised that it was a giant mirror and what I saw reflected it was the actual ceiling.

After feeling completely stupid for taking me so long to realise about it, I took a photo of myself to celebrate my discovery (and left the room quickly to avoid intoxication with the crude fumes).

Hello!!!

Disturbing but very cool.

Not to bore anybody, I think Saatchi was great, I liked almost everything. Excuse my incompence to write about art, it is really not my field.

I hope I still find some other little unexplored gems around the city soon. But that is going to be another story.

Victory and Misery

If I could choose a tube line to stick to, I would definitely choose Victoria Line. I like the name, sounds very patriotic, like winning, Victory, but apart from the name, that apparently is also known as 'The Banana Line', is its functionality and shape itself.

Never been to Walthamstow, never planned, but Tottenham Hale takes you yo Cambridge, to Stansted Airport and to Ikea, first stop of those that have recently move to north London. Haven't been in ages, literally. Seven Sisters, never been and don't plan to either. Finsbury Park, dearest neighbourhood. Dodgy, most probably, but it is those little gems spreaded around the hood for you to find and not be bored on weekends.  Highbury & Islington, the place where I would choose to life. Quirky little posh area with a hub for the overground, main door to the East End.

Then usual Central London stops. Kings, Euston, Warren Street (Taco night!), Oxford Circus, loved (for the shops) but loathed (for the crowds). Green Park, only used to change, Victoria is your dearest friend when you are catching a flight, Pimlico my first neighbourhood (I was so naïve back then). Vauxhall bad memories, house of the impressive MI5. Stockwell, what? Brixton, new found land and house of one of my friends. Need to explore the South.

Opened back in the 60s, first fully automated line. Fast as hell, North to South, new shinny trains. Last year they retired the '67 stock with a very emotive farewell. Missed that.

Too good to be true. So fast, so reliable that just cannot cope. Already reached its capacity a couple of years ago. Still my loved one.

Then we have the usual hated ones, the pack of District, Circle, Metropolitan and last but not least Hammersmith & City. Clattering all along the line, old tracks, old stock of carriages. Wider and lighter because they are mostly 'overground', but slow, old, smelly and always disrupted. First thing a learnt from there: avoid those lines at all cost. It's a pity, as they take you to remote corners of the city, from the swankyness of Richmond to the very indian East Ham. Not the most pleasant journeys.

We also have Picadilly. I don't like it as much as Victoria, but I consider it her (oh, now I am considering Victoria a 'female' line) little big sister. Slow, as for being one of the oldest (not as old as the previous Dream Team), but quite old. North to North West or South West. From the funny but probably never visited Cockfosters to the very convenient Heathrow Airport. It calls at all central London hottest spots, Leicester, Picadilly, Covent Garden, but so many stops make the journey long and boring. An undisclosed source, in reality a friend of mine, commented that apparently it is considered the Gay Line. Still haven't found a reason or an explanation.

Overground. Lovely new refurbished carriages and extended C-facing-down-shape line that has discovered me the beauty of East London. Back when I moved in, not very long ago, visiting the cockney side involved a very tedious journey on the 653/654 of an hour long. Alternatively, it required to use the dream time line, when not disrupted, walking and engineering to reach the desired point. Now the shinny little trains can take me to the Olympic site in a blink of an eye in carriages that look pretty much as good as the ones from my hometown.

We also have Bakerloo. Hybridised name between Baker (Street) and Waterloo station, is a bland line connecting certainly odd corners of the city. Never gone further up than Marylebone, down to Elephant and Castle, its carriages are most probably from the 70s. The knackered moquette from the seats and unpleasant brown of the line colour made it always look pretty odd to me. There is one little feature that still catches my eye everyday: its moon-shaped wall lamps with very white light. Light that reflects on the glass separators between the sections of the carriage, that act like a mirror multiplying the reflection of the light. Weird vision of infinite moons inside a carriage, like putting to mirrors in front of another and you're in between. Curious effect. I like it.

Northern line, apparently widely know as misery line. It is annoying enough as it is as branched as bushy tree. Chaotic interchange at Euston where you seriously consider tossing a coin to choose the adequate platform for your destination. Must say it is my 3rd most reliable option in case of disruption of my daily commute, but just had to use it once. Trains are a sad stock from the 90s probably. Horrible frequency between trains makes you really think about the misery of using the line. The exchange between Victoria and Misery at King's Cross can give you nightmares of infinite walking along the corridors and feeling of despair in between. I learnt better ways to reach Angel without using it.

Then we have Central. My hero one when I moved in here as it took me to my favourite spots of the city, and its horizonal layout makes it easy, pleasant to the eye and kind of comforting. From Notting Hill Gate to Bank, stopping at Marble Arch, Oxford and Tottenham Court Road. It is a shame that its carriages, similar stock to Northern, are gloomy little cans, kind of sad to travel in. Highly disrupted lately, has lost points on my list of favourite ones. Long time ago.

Jubilee Line. Grey. Disturbing. Disrupted. Eternal fail. One of the newest line. Suicide-proof in some of the stations, has a weird path across the city, from North to Southbank and then to the East. Feels cold. Its newly refurbished stations have been reinforced with metal panels. Looks modern, clean and solid, you can tell it was done for functional reasons. Speedy hubs for City workers. Waterloo, Canary Wharf, Stratford, London Bridge. Just by mentioning the name you picture Suits, coffee in hand, full suitcases and no time for social mercy until they have reached their destination. Big and important line, unexplicably faulty 24/7.

Waterloo & City. Pendular line consisting on just Point A and Point B. Purely functionalised to convey the flow of City Commuters coming from commuter towns around the South West of London. Characterised by its sweet and innocent pastel green, its probably one of the greatest unknowns for ordinary commoners from London. Often closed on the weekends, is one of those lines that none of your friends have ever used. You know it is there, but there is never a reason good enough to trial test it. There is no need for it though. Why would you like to suffer the pain of the most overcrowded station, Bank-Monument just for the sake of your curiosity?

Exactly.

That's what I will be doing my next day off.

But again, that's another story. 

Follow my blog with Bloglovin