Convergent Journey

A cuppa tea and a camera

Posts tagged ‘Thanksgiving’

Weekly Roundup No. 3

In this week’s roundup: food, frozen yogurt, running and the outdoors! Practically a lifestyle blog today. Of note: finally, something good to be said for British cuisine!

1. Deliciousness of the week

Two delicious meals (and a dessert) this week! On Tuesday, T treated me to dinner at the Malaysian canteen – it’s an unofficial eatery, tucked away on a rather random residential street. A sign outside says “Malaysians only.” My my! I felt very special, and kinda sneaky. Nasi lemak, yum :)

And as I said in my last post, I went out to dinner on Thanksgiving, again with T and her friends from church. The poor unsuspecting folk, I did make them all do the “What are you thankful for” icebreaker, and they were good-spirited enough to go along with it.

We had dinner at a Korean place called Koba. I was confused by the name of the restaurant—it sounds more Japanese to me! But apparently their specialty is Korean BBQ, hence… Ko(rean)…. ba(rbeque). Now, as I’ve mentioned before, it is against my principles to have to PAY for kimchi and the lettuce in which to wrap your BBQ beef. But it was Thanksgiving after all, and I decided to let it go just this once. And it was delicious. Still wrong, but delicious. Granted, there were three types of kimchi, and they were arranged so beautifully: cucumber kimchi criss-crossed like a log house, cabbage kimchi piled high like Jenga, and kkakdugi like a tower. But there is still no excuse. A tiny bit of nicely arranged kimchi should not cost $8!!!! THAT’S RIGHT. I PAID EIGHT DOLLARS FOR A TEENY WAD OF KIMCHI. Whew. I didn’t realize that I had internalized this anger.

Anyway, it was delicious and wonderful (the haemool pajun was also very good). In the end it didn’t come out to be exorbitantly expensive, though in the States we’d have gotten bigger portions. (Come to think of it though, portions are always smaller here—and in the rest of the world. Only in America do restaurants try to take all your money and make you obese.)

Afterwards, we went to a frozen yogurt place called Yog, and… friends and foodies… Pinkberry and Red Mango may have started this trend, but they’ve got NOTHING on British frozen yogurt. The yogurt here, first of all, is so much better than it is in the States. It would only naturally follow that the frozen yogurt here is also umpteen times better. As you may have picked up from this blog, there are precious few things in British cuisine that I rave about. But the pomegranate frozen yogurt at Yog was, hands down, the best I’ve ever had.

2. Autumn in Hyde Park

I’ve been going on a jogging route through the park that’s approximately 3.5 miles around. From Lancaster Gate, along the Serpentine, to Hyde Park Corner, then along the south side of the park past the Princess Di memorial fountain to the Prince Albert memorial, then north to Lancaster Gate. Whereas in the gym I probably wouldn’t last for 3.5 miles of treadmill boredom, in the park I just can’t get enough. The swans, the trees, the flowers! The baby strollers, the dogs running free in the fields! Seriously, every time I see unbridled doggie joy I just think, that is how a dog’s life is meant to be.

It’s just so lovely and wonderful that I took my phone along today and snapped photos along the way. Some of them are warped because I took them while running…

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Happy (American) Thanksgiving

This is my first time spending Thanksgiving outside the States, and it makes me realize how much I love this holiday. It’s timed so perfectly—it kicks off the holiday season with reminders of all there is to be thankful for, with full stomachs and hearts, with family and food and friends! I mean, what more do you need in life??

So I’m kind of sad that I have to spend Thanksgiving writing a paper and going to class. I’m going out to dinner in the evening with a friend’s group of friends—in other words, a bunch of people I haven’t met yet, and I don’t think there will be many Americans. Nonetheless, I’m secretly planning to spring an icebreaker of “What I’m thankful for” on them and force them into celebrating American Thanksgiving, hee hee. I’ll let you know how it goes.

My London-related Thanksgiving list:

  • Thankful for fast friends who’ve filled my first two months with memorable moments.
  • Thankful for the wonders of Skype (iChat, Google+, etc.) to help me keep in touch with friends and family back home! (Miss you all!!!)
  • Thankful that I still have eight months to explore this city and Europe!
  • Thankful for my church community (and to have found it so quickly).
  • Thankful for spontaneous moments of grace.
  • Thankful that I live near Hyde Park—and that the weather’s still good for jogging outdoors!
  • Thankful to see the sky out my window.
  • Thankful to be pest-free (I’ve had too many mice for roommates in NYC)!
  • Thankful for my kettle and many cups of tea.
  • Thankful to finally be in the city that I’ve dreamed of living in for years—and that it’s been even more amazing than I hoped!
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On Being Happy and 27

My first gripe about London has little to do with London… it’s more about human nature, and everyone else’s gripes about London.

Here’s how it usually goes. When I meet people and they find out I’m new in town, they ask, all friendly-like: “How do you like it here?”

My response: “Oh, I absolutely love it here!”

Their friendly expressions turn to pity. “Just wait,” they say, “until it’s dark and gloomy / cold and rainy / grey and foggy.”

You can have your own personal rain cloud if you want it

Strikingly, this happens most with Americans who have lived in London for a while. By contrast, when I meet English people and tell them that I love London, they get all heartwarm, like, “Aww, here’s this girl from New York, and she loves my city!” But I guess when American expats see my happy enthusiasm, they want to bring me down and make me miserable too.

On Saturday, I went to an event put on by my alumni association’s local chapter, and I got cornered into an extended conversation with a guy who really hates London. I did not enjoy this conversation at all, for two reasons. First, he had a tendency to spit on me at least once per sentence. Secondly, he’s from the class of ’96, so it’s especially unpleasant to listen to a grown adult whine for fifteen minutes that it takes forever for the cable guy to come, the tube shuts down when the workers strike, and I don’t know what else. I just wanted to tell him to grow up and deal with it—but he’s got a decade on me!

The one nice thing about alumni events is that it’s quite standard to ask people what year they graduated—it cuts to the chase. Normally, in American culture, it would be considered rude to ask people how old they are, but I actually prefer people to ask how old I am than to assume that I’m seventeen!

The other day one of the pastors at my church was trying to convince me to find a job in London when I graduate. When I put up some resistance to his insistent persuasion, he asked me if it’s because I miss my family.

“Well, I mean, sure I miss them theoretically, but practically, I haven’t lived at home for ten years, so I’m alright…”

He gave me a double take. “Wait, how old are you?”

Haha. He’d thought I was an undergrad, 20 years old, tops.

At least it beats the time I was walking down the street with my fifteen-year-old tutee, and a woman asked whether I was his girlfriend. This, by the by, happened five months ago.

*Update: On a related note, here’s a nice article on gratitude and happiness. Just in time to say, Happy Thanksgiving! :)

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