I found this great yoga spot last weekend – right smack in between where I sleep every night and where I work 5 days a week. The first class was hilarious – I had no clue what she was saying.
So I learned some basic vocabulary: [Read more…] about Affordable yoga plus free French lessons
I did some research as to why…
Yes, it’s really that bad.
Day one was nuts. it started with the Saint-Ouen flea market where I bought a pair of chaussures (shoes) that I now need to buy thick socks in order to wear; a silly thing, since I have SO many socks back home. the African man selling me the shoes escorted me to the ATM up the street because I did not yet have Euros in my possession and he was eager to give me a “good deal” on his first sale of the day. sketchy right? after that I went to get a sim card so I don’t have to rely on finding wifi for everything. this was a terrible experience and I won’t go into detail because my mother is likely reading this and I don’t want to scare her. however, the day got better when I found a 90-minute power yoga class, in French of course.
Actually I have two new favorite spots in London.
The first one I discovered two days ago, a co-working space with a “free” cafe area for the nomadic folk: the Coffice which offers a buffet lunch for a reasonable price, and I may sit on my laptop as long as I wish. The downside is that my time is limited; lunch is cleared away around 15:30 and the place closes at 17:30.
So because I like to work into the evening hours, I was forced to discover the Ace Hotel right down the street, with their massive open lobby/bar/cafe/common area with a hundred or so folks occupying the cozy tables and chairs, hard at work on dates with their laptops.
I believe it’s open 24 hours as well. I wish I’d discovered this one earlier.
I was rudely awakened at 4:20 AM by a drunk Italian yelling at the random man in her bed “ACCENDI MY FRIEND. MY FRIEND WHERE IS YOUR BED. THIS IS MY BED. ACCENDI MY FRIEND (giggles) MY FRIEND WHERE IS YOUR BED (giggles) and he’s sitting upright in her bed, saying nothing; her boyfriend wonders aloud if he’s deaf. By now I’m giggling, and attempting to go back to sleep would be useless. So I get an early start for the day. At 5am the sky is already turning blue, and the 6am streets are a disaster on a Saturday; the cleaning crews are out, and some runners, and the party-people heading home.
I rode the double-decker bus to Brixton and had a coffee and a croissant while I waited for the Market to open at 8. I wandered about for some hours, but didn’t have much energy thanks to the night’s interruptions.
Back at the hostel after attempting to nap, the Italian is just waking up and wants to know what is this “avocado” that I have in my hand. Her name is Rasha and her boyfriend (soon to be husband) is Fabrizio. We spoke in broken English/Italian for an hour or so, and I’m welcome (urged to come!) to their home in Rome any time 🙂
exploring on foot until my feet couln’t take it anymore
