Our weekends in London have been great so far- we still have that “brand new” mentality that we should go see everything, walk around, explore, be with the people. It’s hard to remember to always have tourist eyes in the city you live in, but for the love, I am trying.
Friday night one of Bryan’s teams at work had a fun happy hour, then we had dinner in the very bumping Covent Garden part of town. Saturday we walked along Oxford Street before taking refuge, if you can call it that, on the famous Carnaby Street. Oxford Street is like 20 shopping malls exploded into the outdoors. There are 10 H&Ms, 15 Zaras, multiple department stores, the unveiling of the largest Banana Republic I have ever seen in my life, and 2.5 million girls wearing black tights and Uggs.
Saturday night we owed a friend dinner and decided to try out L’Entrecote (as it’s known), a perennially cool joint in our neighborhood where you stand in line outside, descend into a big, bright bustling French brasserie-type room, and… here’s the catch: there is no menu. There is one thing: steak frites. They will not veer off this model. There is no butter for the bread, no ketchup for the frites (only mustard), and always a nice surprise, when you think you are done with your meal- there are seconds. We would have known this, but didn’t fully understand the adorable young French server who presumably mentioned it. All the servers were hot little underage French girls, wearing french maid-like outfits. Check it out. They looked to me as though they had been recently plucked from the streets of Paris and smuggled through the Chunnel under someone’s arm. Bryan kept calling all of them Cosette.
Sunday we were invited to one of Bryan’s colleague’s home for a “Sunday Roast.” This is very big here and all the pubs have a version. Sarah & Mark, who are British and Swiss, were wonderful hosts and we got to play with their three awesome kids for hours. It was good to have our kid fix after leaving our Brooklyn neighbors.
Sunday evening we rallied and stomped through the rain at a random pub crawl we had sort of planned with friends. I thought there would be throngs of people wearing green and pouring beer all over one another, but I must have mistaken central London for Fat Tuesdays in Daytona. All in all, fun times.
Here are some pics from the past few weekends…
The Volunteer – start of the pub crawl
Schwab fam (in Paddington- Emma loved my boots)
Millennium Bridge / Thames / St. Paul’s
Borough Market – delicious dead rabbits