Some ME Time

“Ooooo , sometimes I get a good feeling, yeeeaaaahhhhhh”

It’s another cloudy Saturday morning. I’m trotting towards the tube station in N’s typical style. It’s nearly 11am and I have a bit over an hour left to get to the salon I made my appointment with. The appointment for my new haircut, that is. The bus stops just as I pass by the bus station but I decide to ignore it in order to pop into a shop for a take away coffee. The truth is I woke up really late this morning, barely managed to fix my hair and put some makeup on before rushing out of the house. Breakfast was out of the question, sadly it usually is… The tube arrives just as I make it to the station and as I managed to find my oyster card without digging too much through my shoulder bag, I actually climb on the first train. Looks like I will make it on time after all. I sit down, happily sipping from my first coffee of the day.

And after experiencing some minor delays on the C line, I make it to the salon just on time. For some reason, I never really liked all the processes involving cutting my hair. Still, there are a few pleasant bits, like the head massage I got and the cute stylist who cut my hair this time around. But the  bad part of it was having to listen to some fat and loud lady how, she pretends, used to work in the film industry in Hollywood but quit and moved here instead for… well… a very long list of reasons.

One hour and a half later I am out of the salon, happy with my new look but not as pleased with the wind blowing it in all directions. I decide to head toward the National Gallery, it’s been a while since I stopped by. I haven’t checked what they have on but it is within walking distance (London walking distance) and I’m sure I will find something to enjoy. Not surprisingly, Oxford Street is packed with shoppers and I narrowly escape from bumping into people at every step. The noise and movement still surprise me even after being here for so long. I take some back streets instead, to avoid the hustle and bustle.

I enter a little shop, attracted by the French music. The place is packed but a smiling shop assistant offers me her help. I am quite surprised, for some reason this doesn’t happen too often. The quality of service is rather poor in this city. The best excuse I could come up with is because London is full of tourists who come once and never return. It doesn’t really matter if you’re nice to them or not, sales figures will be the same. As expected, I buy myself a red, little something.

Back on the street, my stomach reminds me I have had my last meal the day before. A slight headache is installing as well and I quickly change my plan. Priority number one: breakfast. Well, lunch… I stop at this little French restaurant whose menu I am familiar with and I order my usual prawn, guacamole and salsa tartines. It is quite odd to eat out alone but I do enjoy it. Two ladies next to me are trying to have a conversation on guys and headache pills. One is Asian and the other is Eastern European. Neither of them speaks or understands a lot of English so they are both talking and smiling, pretending to understand the other. I sip from my Prosecco until my tartines arrive and I can elegantly dive in. I forget about the conversation at the nearby table but I do notice the tall guy sitting across, at a different table. He is facing me and talking to his girlfriend/partner/friend/co-worker. Is he staring at me or is it just my imagination? I focus on my food. I receive a text and it looks like I will have a packed afternoon tomorrow. I look ahead and the guy smiles and says “hello”. The lady he was with wasn’t there anymore. I say “hi” back and see to my food. A few minutes later the lady reappears and gives him a big kiss. They leave together while he turns his head and winks at me. What a hypocrite!

Back on the street the wind is blowing badly and my curls are a little bit less defined. Leicester Square is filled with people shouting and singing. I recognize the Catalan flags and the football club T-shirts: Barcelona is playing tonight. I can’t work out who they are playing against though. Trafalgar Square is filled with supporters as well and I can hear them cheering as I walk up the stairs of the gallery. My headache is fading away.

I pick up the “what’s on” guide and choose a George Bellows and Ashcan painters exhibition. The New York landscapes remind me of images from movies while the landscapes from Main send me to the world of Huckleberry Finn. My phone goes off as I admire the last painting and I hurry outside. Looks like I will be busy tomorrow morning as well. I scan through the guide again but decide to leave. I often find it hard to concentrate on more than one exhibition during a visit to a gallery/museum, without a break.

It’s gone colder outside. I make my way towards Charring Cross where I know a little Starbucks that shouldn’t be too crowded. R’s words echo in my head: “every change starts with a haircut”. I listen to a tango from the Burlesque soundtrack as I pass by the Salsa Club. It’s been so long since I last went dancing! Memories fill my head.

The Starbucks isn’t too crowded. With a mocha frappe on one side, I slip away into my book. If I ever had any thoughts about working on a tropical island, they are all gone as my book uncovers the less glamorous aspects of working in a tropical paradise. I am absorbed by the story while a quick rain comes and goes.

Two chapters later my phone rings. I always love chatting to N but this time I can’t understand a word! I don’t know how to turn the volume higher on this antique phone! My bb is broken and I got a complimentary phone in return until mine is fixed. I miss my bb! I think I say that about a hundred times a day! I pack my things and head towards the tube. The sun is out and London is ever so crowded. I suddenly regret having turned down the party invitation I received yesterday.

Night Hike in New Forest

For a while now I've been feeling the need to get out of London even if for a day and my need was met two weekends. Nothing sounded better than a nice night hike with several troops of scouts in the New Forest National Park.

But the idea I had at home regarding the hike proved to be pretty inaccurate once in New Forest. It was night all right, and cold. It did not rain, the sky was clear and perfect for star watching (what a miracle!). But this is where surprises started... 

The troop of scouts (8 in total) I went on the hike with was given a map and a compass. We were supposed to walk around 8 miles in order to reach our destination, the scout hut where we were going to camp. The hike was cross-country, therefore we avoided the 2-3 roads crossing the national park and headed through the field and later on through the forest, not really minding the water and the mud. But when I say water... oh! In some areas it was water nearly up to my waist! There was no point in having good hiking boots, water went inside them anyway, from above. Water, mud, water, mud, forest, more mud and forest again... + funny scouts with (not so) funny comments. Adventure did not end after reaching the destination (sometime after midnight) as we still had to set up the tents and have dinner and hot chocolate. 

Staying behind and 'eavesdropping' on the scouts' conversations was a delight for my ears! Among my favourite quotes from that night were "If anyone ever says 'Let's go on a night hike! again, I will probably kill him!" and "I used to hate cars but now they look quite friendly to me!"

BEAVER Meeting Invitation :)

I was very happy to honour an invitation to a Beaver Meeting yesterday. As part of their Global Challenge Badge, the beavers of one of the local scout groups (I'm not going to tell you which one) have learned and plaid games from different countries. As expected, I was there to talk about SCOUTING in ROMANIA and to make a Romanian game. The beavers showed a genuine interest towards novelty and diversity and have certainly enjoyed the meeting, especially the games. I loved every minute of the meeting as well. And here's the proof! 

P E O P L E

We always say we want to meet new people; we want to make new friends. Only that this is not entirely true! We want to meet new people who have specific characteristics / qualities; who are exactly how we want them to be.

Just think about it… how many people have you met during the past year? And during the past month? And how many of these people do really count? How many of these people would you choose to meet, if you have the chance, instead of just effortlessly tweet/email/ text once in a while… for the sake of keeping in touch?

Disappointing answers?

It's Called S E R V I C E

This might sound cocky and patronizing but before you read, take a deep breath and a few seconds to reflect on these two sentences:

1. If you had a taste of something better (pizza / services / lifestyle), would you quietly accept going back to something less good?

2. If you were, at some point, involved in creating something better (pizza / services / lifestyle), would you now quietly accept going back to something less good?

Now you understand where I’m coming from…

Last week I was let down by the services in London’s coffees and restaurants three times in a row and when it is three times in a row, there is no mistake! On Friday, dinner at Desperados (Maritime Greenwich) was a fiasco! Only one of the two ordered starters made it to the table and the waiter asked us to move to another table in the middle of our dinner so that he can make space for a party of 6 people. Coffee at Coffee Nero (Canary Wharf) on Saturday wasn’t better as the waitress failed to inform me they were closing until after she had charged me for “eat in” coffee and cake. At the cozy Japanese restaurant in Soho they completely forgot to bring us the water; at least they had brought the wine!

A better service makes the client come back time and again just because he/she feels valued / important / appreciated. The tips are higher (or at least they exist), the employees are happier and the vibe inside the establishment is positive. And it’s all free!

On the other hand, why would anyone make an effort to improve their service in a busy, touristic city like London, where customers come no matter how lousy the service is, how dirty the sofas are or how arrogantly the staff replies?

When is the vicious circle going to be broken and by whom?