London is just as I remembered it: bustling, bloody cold, bleak and blustry. I've been sporting some terrific hairstyles as a result of leaving the house with a Do which is quickly corrupted by the local gale. I've frightened myself enough in bus windows to check whether I've been sucking my iPod.
My first week was spent in the Souf with Neeni and Tony near Brixton. Neeni is almost baked now and is looking well distended. She enjoys the preg-a-ttention and rubs her tummy gleefully whilst occassionaly querying how the hell it's going to come out. Whilst in the Souf, Bron managed to give me two weeks temping for her at Eon Scriptwriter's Workshop (a part of the production company that do the Bond films). The work was boring, but the offices and people were nice and situated on the dark-blue part of the Monopoly Board. My computer looked out onto Green Park which, on it's further shores, sported Buckingham Palace. Bron and I went for a walk to wave to the Queen from the gates but Queen Vic's pompous statue was much more exciting than the puritan Palace. This adventure has started us squeeling 'Joo-bi-Leee' in HRH's pronounced accent everytime we're on the esteemed silver tube line celebrating said anniversary.
Went to Bron and Grant's couch after that just off very trendy Brick Lane in the East. It's a great spot and in the centre of everything, my only complaint is the Bricky Boys in the stairwells smoking pot and talking until ungodly hours. I spent Christmas with these two which was a well-fed affair. We made a huge Christmas feast fit for ungulates with faux-meat abbundance which kept us full for days and days. New Years was spent at the 'painfully cool' Boom Box party which was fun, trashy and slippery. We celebrated with 3am falaffel rolls which, to my horror, were in Pita pockets and un-rolled - heathens!
Bron managed to get me a cat-sitting gig in Crouch End (North) which has provided rent free accom for the last few weeks. The cats are with me always. When I'm not picking their detritus from my black-artsworker wardrobe they stare at me like I've eaten their first-born. I've been incredibly lucky to have a well-coordinated, caring and patient social set already established in this town. Very grateful.
Have finally got a room in Harringay (North) between Manor House and Turnpike Lane tubes with two very nice and down-to-Earth Indie boys. The house is clean, cosy, calm and conveniently un-expensive. Am very excited at the prospect of unpacking my bag in my own room. Move in this week. Liberte!
Have spent most of my time applying for jobs online and watching boxsets of the Sopranos. The Sopranos make me feel good about my situation and the job hunting keeps me involved. Had a few bites from two agencies and a good interview and few apps to do this week. The planets slowly align....
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Venice the Menace
Ok, so I'm backdating...
Final days in Venice were hardwork. Lots of packing of boxes, inventories and lethargy in 7 degree venues with poor lighting. It was hard, but it got done. Enjoyed spending time with Sophie where we 'worked' but also spent some quality time shopping and eating.
I knew I was ready to leave water-world when Sophie and I went to a cachetti bar (Venetian version of McDonalds) and I ordered an aranciatta with mozzarella and polenta *ik* and, while I ate it at the diner tables I was forced to watch the rear end of a husky being hand fed fried things by its owner whilst listening to the happyhouse mix of Popcorn... on repeat - no, i'm not exagerating either. I think living anywhere will eventually break you down but Venice has an incredible capacity to make you whince with both wonder and bewilderment. Its parochial beauty infiltrates the culture of the place, and its people, who struggle to live in a Disneyland of discomfort and unsuitability. It's hard not to get mad when you are charged Euro 4.50 for a glass of tap water in the only club in town above a supermarket.
That being said I've been incredibly fortunate to be here. And I've particularly enjoyed spending time with some of my local comrades over some lovely dinners on the mainland at Mestre with Nasko and Massimo, and Brooke and Niko but also in Venice with Simone and Biljana. Mestre felt normal: it had cars and buses and supermarkets and coriander! It was wonderful and normal and the company was splendid. Brenda and I got a little tippled at Naskos and gave an intense and straight-up version of Australia, warts and all. I hope our guests found it interesting - we obviously had complex opinions about Australia which we'd discovered since our absence from home - both good and bad.
I spent some catch-up time doing touristy things: Basilica San Marco, the clocktower, Campo Frari and its church, Torcello (one of the outlying islands on the laguna), the Academy, the Doge's palace. The amount of renaissance painting that dons the walls of so many buildings is shocking. You get neck cricks from having to tilt for the next Titian. Too much to talk about regarding the sights but it was more engaging than I had thought. S. Marco is just gorgeous with some terrific mosaics and the reliquaries and bits of holy bodies in jars and crystal boxes. On top of the church you can see the people and pigeons in the square below and we'd been told about a certain tidbit of carnage on the west side. Sure enough, two concrete pillars facing Giudecca housed an array of disembowled pigeon carcasses being picked over by the I-can't-believe-they're-not-seagulls that are more super-petrel than gull. Jess almost threw-up despite her morbid interest. I've got pictures but available only request - bit too graphic. I nice visual metaphor for Venezia: happy tourists below ancient pillars housing carnivorous fauna.
Ended up moving into a Venetian sixties 'set of a soft porn' apartment. Brenda and I enjoyed a small photo shoot in our final days to celebrate the beauty of it. My room was salmon pink and had a lovely leather setee in which you could admire the brass vase with ostrich feathers, the madonna above the bed and the fully carpeted floor to ceiling curved room. mmm-mmm.
Amid goodbyes and farewells it was time to leave Venice the menace.
Final days in Venice were hardwork. Lots of packing of boxes, inventories and lethargy in 7 degree venues with poor lighting. It was hard, but it got done. Enjoyed spending time with Sophie where we 'worked' but also spent some quality time shopping and eating.
I knew I was ready to leave water-world when Sophie and I went to a cachetti bar (Venetian version of McDonalds) and I ordered an aranciatta with mozzarella and polenta *ik* and, while I ate it at the diner tables I was forced to watch the rear end of a husky being hand fed fried things by its owner whilst listening to the happyhouse mix of Popcorn... on repeat - no, i'm not exagerating either. I think living anywhere will eventually break you down but Venice has an incredible capacity to make you whince with both wonder and bewilderment. Its parochial beauty infiltrates the culture of the place, and its people, who struggle to live in a Disneyland of discomfort and unsuitability. It's hard not to get mad when you are charged Euro 4.50 for a glass of tap water in the only club in town above a supermarket.
That being said I've been incredibly fortunate to be here. And I've particularly enjoyed spending time with some of my local comrades over some lovely dinners on the mainland at Mestre with Nasko and Massimo, and Brooke and Niko but also in Venice with Simone and Biljana. Mestre felt normal: it had cars and buses and supermarkets and coriander! It was wonderful and normal and the company was splendid. Brenda and I got a little tippled at Naskos and gave an intense and straight-up version of Australia, warts and all. I hope our guests found it interesting - we obviously had complex opinions about Australia which we'd discovered since our absence from home - both good and bad.
I spent some catch-up time doing touristy things: Basilica San Marco, the clocktower, Campo Frari and its church, Torcello (one of the outlying islands on the laguna), the Academy, the Doge's palace. The amount of renaissance painting that dons the walls of so many buildings is shocking. You get neck cricks from having to tilt for the next Titian. Too much to talk about regarding the sights but it was more engaging than I had thought. S. Marco is just gorgeous with some terrific mosaics and the reliquaries and bits of holy bodies in jars and crystal boxes. On top of the church you can see the people and pigeons in the square below and we'd been told about a certain tidbit of carnage on the west side. Sure enough, two concrete pillars facing Giudecca housed an array of disembowled pigeon carcasses being picked over by the I-can't-believe-they're-not-seagulls that are more super-petrel than gull. Jess almost threw-up despite her morbid interest. I've got pictures but available only request - bit too graphic. I nice visual metaphor for Venezia: happy tourists below ancient pillars housing carnivorous fauna.
Ended up moving into a Venetian sixties 'set of a soft porn' apartment. Brenda and I enjoyed a small photo shoot in our final days to celebrate the beauty of it. My room was salmon pink and had a lovely leather setee in which you could admire the brass vase with ostrich feathers, the madonna above the bed and the fully carpeted floor to ceiling curved room. mmm-mmm.
Amid goodbyes and farewells it was time to leave Venice the menace.
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