Sun sun sun

My first easter in London was wet and grey, if I remember well. And though the weather is generally better here than in the Dam, of course that weekend it wasn't. The second year I planned to go away, until a friend anounced he'd celebrate his 30th that weekend and hope we'd stay in town. Bastard then decided to stay in Peru for a bit and Easter weekend turned out wet and grey with no friends in town. So this year I planned to go away once more. Until friend Gorkem suggested a visit, and I decided to stay. And third time lucky: what a glorious weekend. Ridiculously warm for the time of the year.

Poor GG had to spend Saturday by himself as I'd gotten sick on Friday night and couldn't move, but luckily I was alive and kicking on Sunday. Brick Lane, Shoreditch, Spitalfields, via the empty City to London Bridge and the boat back to the Wharf. A perfect Sunday. Monday was spent walking from my place to Tate Modern, with a lunch break at Dim T in front of my office (new office, I may add, in the most amazing location, I can see Tower Bridge from my desk!). And off GG went again. A weekend with a fab friend, in the sun, after a few stressful weeks at work was just perfect. Glad I stayed!

Quinoa FTW

I regularly chuck this Southamerican grain in salads, or eat it with mushrooms and mozzarella. It's healthy, filling, and has a nice bite and slightly bitter, nuttery taste. Had it not been for POD, I wouldn't have associated it with brekkie though. POD is my favourite London take away food place. Crunchy salads, yummy soups and thai curries that are to die for. And as a recent addition to their breakfast menu: quinoa mango pots. At £2 a piece a bit pricey to have on a regular basis, so I succesfully tried to copy it at home.

The 'recipe': an espresso cup of quinoa is enough for 2-3 days. Cook it and mix one part of the cooked quinoa with two parts Greek yoghurt (I like Rachel's Organic for this). Chop a mango in bigger chunks and really small chunks (puree would be best if you have a food processor). Add agave or maple syrup to taste and done. Keeps in the fridge for about 2 days. Yum!

In Dutch....why I don't want to go back

M'n laatste kwartaal hier.... Een klein jaar geleden hakte ik de knoop door na een gesprek met mijn Nederlandse partner. Ik zou terug komen. Hij en enkele andere collega's namen een risico door me de kans op uitzending te bieden (men dacht en masse dat ik niet terug zou komen), en hebben me enorm gesteund toen werk hier vorig jaar klote was. En terug ga ik. Ik heb een belofte gedaan en die zal ik nakomen. Op z'n minst voor een jaar.

Maar ik ga terug naar aan land met een Sahar quotum. Waar een minister en de PVV koehandel drijven over een meisje. Waar mijn Turkse vriend zich niet langer welkom voelt. Waar mensen hun handtas dichter tegen zich aan klemmen als mijn oud-klasgenootje (van Srilankese afkomst) in de tram stapt. Naar intolerantie, botheid, en ieder voor zich en god (zolang het niet allah is) voor ons allen. Tuurlijk is Londen niet perfect. Maar ik voel me thuis in deze tolerante stad. Waar mannen even wachten als je aan komt lopen om de deur voor je open te houden. Waar iedereen zich in rijen van tien opstelt om 's ochtends in een veel te drukke metro te stappen. Waar een zekere courtesy heerst die ik in Nederland zo mis. Ik ga terug. En wil het minimaal een jaar geven. Maar het zal me niet verbazen als ik bij de volgende Ashes weer hier woon. En weer fijn banter heb met collega's over de cricketprestaties van de poms en de aussies.

A day trip to the coast

Beach huts from behind, a photo by Gypsy Saskia on Flickr.

When friend Sandra emailed me she'd like to get out of town when next visiting me, I thought that was a brilliant idea. When I realised the CWC final wasn't in March but on the 2nd of April, the brilliance was lost on me. So we agreed if Australia would make it to the final, we'd watch the match. If not, we'd go to Whitstable. And Whitstable it was... Though dubbed 'Islington on Sea', I wouldn't have heard of it if my bro hadn't sent me a NYT article two years ago about this coastal town in Kent. It looked pretty and was known for its seafood. Sold. So off we went. Sun, a nice train ride (d*^khead ticket dude at St Pancras more than made up for by the sweetest ticket lady on the train), the sea, seafood and a close friend. Ingredients to a perfect day.

East London FTW

Every so often I re-fall in love with East London. Today was one of those occasions. My friend Liesbet was here, and I decided to take her to Spittalfield Markets for brunch at LUXE. Good food, good coffee, and fantastic people watching. The shops around the market are generally pretty cool, I especially love the florists with the beautiful bouquets that I cannot afford. There is also a pretty funky hairdresser. The SM Barbie dolls in the pic were in its window. Only in the East end...

From Spitalfields it's a short walk to Brick Lane. Turn right and you will have to fight off a gazzillion Bangladeshi restaurant-staff trying to lure you in. Turn left and you will find loads of street food, cool market stalls, and loads of vintage shops. Actually, don't turn into Brick Lane straight away. First there is Nude Espresso, serving one of the best brews in London (staff fully dressed...).

From Brick Lane we wandered (well...speedwalked) to Columbia Road as I wanted to buy flowers just before the market closed. On a beautiful spring day like this it's ridiculously busy, but fun nonetheless. Three bunches of flowers for a tenner brought spring into my flat. As we walked a million kilometers yesterday, we then took a bus home, through Shoreditch High Street. I was still too full to consider tea, or I would have taken Liesbet to Pizza East, a good New York style pizza place in the Tea Building.

The things listed above could be anywhere. But what makes the East End so special is its variety of people. Once the Jewish part of London, it is now the home of many Bengali and hipsters. Especially Brick Lane and Columbia Road are fantastic for people watching: it's where all the cool Londoners seem to hang out on Sunday afternoons. And between the Alexa and Russell look-a-likes, you find the stalls handing out leaflets on Islam, and grey men with kufis. A good mixture.

Sword of Damocles

"We really didn't think you'd come back", several Dutch colleagues told me in recent conversations. Whoever betted that I would, should be a rich man soon. Next week April will be upon us. And with April, my last three months in London. The 'one more year' was fine. The 'six more months' bearable. But the daunting thought I have only three months left in this city that is more home to me than any other has ever been....it's tough. Yes I will be back heaps of time, made easier by the fact I'll have every other Friday off as of July. But I will so miss the mixture of people, the friendliness, the buildings, the restaurants, the Sunday papers, the gym, the supermarkets, even the commute! Back to massive traffic jams, supermarkets not unsimilar to your local 7-11, rudeness and miserable service in very average restaurants and an utter lack of cricket and rugby convo. I know it also means back to friends and family. And there are of course decent places to eat in Amsterdam. And the canals are pretty. And maybe the supermarkets have improved. But the closer I get to the end of June, the more certain I am my move back home will be a temporary one. Let's see what I will call home in a few years' time. Melbs? London? Or will something happen that makes me want to stay in the Dam? Time will tell.

Ruggers in Cardiff

Mary and I went to Cardiff last week to watch Ireland play Wales. We didn't get the result we wanted, but what a fantastic day. The Millennium Stadium is spectacular and the fans of both teams are just the best. The bloke in the picture is an Irishman, fresh of the boat to County Clapham. He decided to marry Mary there and then. Something to do with her relos having road facing land...

I wrote a blog for a Dutch sports blog - in Dutch. Sorry non-Dutchies, too lazy to translate!