London

Over the past week, Ziferblat has been all over the news, featured in The Guardian, The Independent, The Evening Standard, The Telegraph, you name it. The first I heard of it was last night over a glass of wine with my friend Isabel; I was lamenting that, while I love getting out of the flat and working in cafes, I didn’t like the fact that I felt pressured to spend money. I’ve been in many a coffeeshop where I have been bombarded by serious side-eyes from the servers until I ordered another latte.

“Why don’t you try the new pay-as-you-go cafe in Shoreditch?” Isabel asked. After doing a bit of research, I set out this afternoon to find it. And, wouldn’t you know it, I’ve walked past it a hundred times; I live no more than a 15 minute walk away.

Photos of one of my favourite cities in the world. And how could it not be one of my favourites, with bangers and mash, graffiti proposals, and snow globes the size of a house?

My absolute favourite thing to do on a Saturday in London is visit Broadway Market. Nearly everything is local, organic, and freshly made, from the smoked salmon to the mushroom risotto to the red velvet cupcakes, and, whatever you fancy, you’ll be sure to find it here. Broadway Market isn’t just for food, either; vintage clothes and jewellery, used books and records, and tons of other knickknacks fill the stalls.

A few weeks ago, I was contacted by Katrina from Eating London about joining one of their tours. If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you may have noticed that I haven’t accepted many tours or trips; it’s just a personal thing. After reading Tom’s post about the same tour, though, and when I realised that the tour would take place in my neighbourhood, East London, I became very, very intrigued. Since moving to London I’ve decided that I’d like to do a bit more “backyard blogging”, which is writing about the place in which you live. As I live in the best city on earth, and in the best neighbourhood in the best city on earth, this means writing a lot more about East London and how much this part of town has to offer.

The other evening, returning from a visit to Leeds to visit my good friend Tom, I stood in the pouring rain and looked around. I didn’t know where I was – the exit I had taken from the bus station was unfamiliar. I was cold, and tired, and the grapes I had bought to snack on during the journey had spilled and crushed in my bag. A taxi splashed by, covering my boots and legs with water. On any other day, I might have been very frustrated with this entire situation. I might have cursed (silently or out loud, it would depend on my mood). I might have huffed and puffed. Instead, I stood there with a grin, laughing at the series of events that could only be described as Murphy’s Law. The thing is, nothing really phases you when you’re in love. And in love I am, absolutely head-over-heels, over-the-top, twirling-in-the-streets kind of love. And who, or what, is so deserving of this adoration?

My ears perked up. “Winnipeg”, I had heard the girl say, I was sure of it. I had a fleeting sensation of excitement, of hearing the name of my hometown dropped casually into conversation, and I briefly wondered why she was mentioning it at all. This entire process took about 1.5 seconds in my brain, before I once again stopped myself, rolled my eyes.

“I’m in Winnipeg, you idiot,” I thought to myself. I had been for a month.