Tag Archives: green

Around London in 6 colours

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My feet are killing me. I am sitting cross-legged on the floor of my apartment, iPad on my lap, mug of echinea tea on my side, and I stretch my hands in front of me. I can not stop smiling.

In the past two days I walked all over London, took pictures of familiar places in unfamiliar angles, spoke to strangers, got lost, found bits of the city I thought I knew, and bits of myself that I did not know.

I can not really say I lived the Olympics in its fullest. I did not have enough free time to volunteer, or enough money to get tickets. I worked in retail, which means that my mornings were spent in a crowded tube, face stuck in between the armpits of a City banker and a person with a purple and red uniform and a lanyard with their smiling picture. I was working close to the Olympic Park, and I passed the same giant foam fingers, amplifiers, and crammed bridge everyday.

So, now freshly in between positions, and feeling better from a cold, I was on the App store, when I saw the London Official App. Without thinking about it, I downloaded it, and within minutes I was absent-mindedly browsing it, when I stumbled on the Discovery part of the Trails section. I cocked my head to the left as I was scrolling down the six trails, feeling a strange kind of excitement. A frown and a deep breath later, I decided that I would complete them; all of them. I took my notebook out, made a plan, typed it on my iPhone, set the details, and then -and then, nothing.

You see, I always have an internal fear of giving up; of letting go. I am afraid that I will be tempted to not follow through, and even though experience has shown me that this is not true, that fear always kept creeping up. I remember two years ago, I was in Greenman festival, when my friends decided that it would be a great idea to climb the mountain that was facing the festival camp site. Now, we climbed it, got attacked from a herd of cows, landed in a pile of fresh shit, tore our clothes, and documented the whole process on film. Once we reached the top, we painted our faces, looked down at the crowds, and smiled to each other. Throughout the whole process though, there was this voice inside me saying this is too tiring, what if something happened, why not stop now, why continue, why are you doing this? I then thought that my perseverance to reach the top of the mountain came from the presence of others, from the reassurance that comes from a common goal, a common purpose.

Yesterday, I was having a bowl of corn flakes on the couch, watching reruns of Ugly Betty and trying to command my face to a state of awake, when my eyes caught of my bag on the floor. I could see the corner of my notebook, and without really thinking about it, I took it out, and flipped it open. I looked at the last page; at the plan. I stared at it for a while, aware of Betty Suarez talking in the background about making the best of life. I pursed my lips, got up, got in the shower, put my trainers on, my notebook back in my bag, and locked the door behind me. I knew I would complete the 6 trails, and take pictures of all 84 of the Olympic Mascot statues around London. Now, when I was outside, I heard a rather familiar voice; why are you doing this? this can be too tiring, -and for nothing! why not stop now, and just go to a coffee shop, have a latte and write? I have to admit, I found this really tempting. I was passing from my closest Costa, when I heard my body sigh, felt my legs slowing down, my gaze directed to the door; and then I continued. I moved forwards, passed it, and replied to that voice: I will complete it. I will find them. I will finish what I started.

I took the Red Trail map out, and made my way towards the first location. Now, it is crucial to remember that I have no real sense of direction. I usually rely on the ability of friends, the kindness of strangers, and the GPS on my iPhone to find my destination; but not this time. For some strange reason, I was determined to find them all with my printed maps, and my non-existent direction skills. I walked forwards and turned backwards, made circles, huffed and puffed, and not before long, I caught sight of a colourful blob in the middle of the sidewalk. I can not explain the feeling I had when I found the first one. It was a small, completely childish, absolutely pure form of delight. I took my iPhone out, and snapped a pic on Instagram. I walked from Westminster Bridge, passed from the crowds marvelling at the London Eye, and walked down Southbank with a daft smile on my face. What I initially found challenging was the focus that this exercise required. You see, I always think about other things when I walk down the street. I think of how my week went, how my week will go, I add things in my never-ending to do list, fret about the future, or in this case, worry about finding the next location. Well, try doing that and keeping an eye for something on the street. Let me tell you, it is not easy. After passing a few, and going in circles to find them, I realised early on that I would have to really clear my head, and focus on the task in had: finding life-sized Olympic Mascot statues in the streets of London. And sure enough, the process became easier. I passed Lambeth Bridge, and found myself in Victoria Tower Gardens. I was amazed at how relaxing this whole process was. Before I knew it, I snapped my last Wenlock.

My natural instinct was to rush to the next location. I mean, I had five more trails to do, so I. Better get moving; and yet, moments later, I was sitting on a bench, looking at Southbank from the other side. I took my notebook out and looked at the list. Half today, and half tomorrow.

For the Pink Trail I walked to Charing Cross, found the Novel Wenlock next to the Oscar Wilde statue, and made my way up to Leicester Square. I spent a good 20 minutes trying to the Spotlight Mandenville, but surprising myself with a steely unwillingness to give up. When I found it, I felt a strange sence of achievement. I did not give up. I did not convince myself that the statue was moved, stolen, abducted from aliens. I persevered. I made my way to Covent Garden with a smile, passed from some of my favourite shops, got two new notebooks from Magma, and then walked down towards Embankment. I had never been in the Victoria Embankment Gardens, so I was surprised by the amount of people that were lounging on the grass, soaking up the sun and giving me funny looks when I was circling the same spot numerous time, with a map on my hand looking lost. When I took a picture of the last Mandeville, I returned to the gardens, and sat down to regroup; 30 minutes later, I was still there.

I later started the Purple trail. I found the first one (Red Bus Wenlock) drowned in a crowd of passers by, tourists, and hurried Londoners. I followed the path up to Mayfair, passed the big Waterstones (and resisted the urge to get inside), and went all the way up to Bond Street, where I encountered my first real issue. After 15 minutes of trying to find the Tyger Tyger Wenlock, I was frowning at my app, not sure what on earth happened. Where was he? Should I give up? Well, if I can not find one, what is the point? I will not complete it. Let’s give up now, and save my feet a world of ache. And then I noticed my grip getting stronger, my jaw tightening, and my eyes spotting the next one. So what if one mysteriously disappeared? The rest are there. Something can be thought out perfectly, or it can be actually done. Time to crack on, I thought, and as I was about to move on, a voice woke me up from my own pep-talk: ‘Oh, if you are looking for the Tyger Tyger one, that is a mistake in the map. It is actually part of the Pink trail’. I turned, and this (very tall) man in a West End attire was smiling down at me. Needless to say that I had to restrain myself from hugging him, thanked him, and walked down St Molton Street. By the time I reached Regent Street, I was feeling hungry, thirsty, and elated. I looked at my Instagram, and my jaw dropped. The three trails got 8000 likes so far, and some very positive feedback; I was really surprised. The rest of the evening involved a hot shower, warm food and a really early night. After all, I still had three trails left for the next morning.

Today I woke up and felt every muscle in my legs complaining. One Tree Hill was on E4, and Payton had to make a decision; so did I. Should I start from the longest trail, or from the hardest? One might assume that it would be the same trail, but no. You see, the Green Trail is a bit more than half of the Blue trail, but is in was in Regents Park; an actual park. No streets, no maps, just directions. The horror.

An hour later, I was walking in Regents Park with a look of terror on my face. But then, something happened: I saw a family having the same look at their face; and then another. The Green trail was different, as it was almost a group thing. People would stop you to ask you where that Rose Garden Mandeville is, and would give you info on that ever-elusive location of the Rainbow Mandeville. By the end, people would show you their pictures, and you discussed where they came from, and how unusually hot London is at this time of the year. I jumped in the tube, and got out in London Bridge for the Blue Trail.

I walked down to the City Hall to find the Skyline Wenlock. I walked down towards Southwark Cathedral and the Golden Hinde, and reached the Globe Theatre and Tate Modern before passing the Millennium Bridge. I then spotted my favourite one, the St Paul’s Mandeville sitting beneath St Paul’s Cathedral. I passed from Cheapside, moved to Bank and reached Monument. Believe it or not, I have never been to the London Tower, and I was really surprised at how lovely it was. I made a mental note to come back, took a picture of the Ravens Wenlock, and walked up to Aldgate to start the Yellow trail.

I weaved my way through Bishopsgate to Liverpool Street, browsed at the Leadenhall and Spitafield Markets, and stopped at Brick Lane to add to my collection of graffiti pictures. In the end, I sat down at the Music Cafe nearby, and browsed through my Instagram account. All 82 Wenlocks and Mandevilles were there, looking back at me. I felt an overpowering sense of achievement. I did this. I went all over London and took pictures of this slice of time, of this moment in the London history, of a fleeting landscape (the statues will stay there until the 06/09/2012).

My feet are still hurting, and I need a refill of my tea. Now, let me see what is up in tomorrow’s schedule.

love,

G ; ;

Minding the Gap

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The couple next to me is making a list on the back of a receipt. They look like they are in a hurry, the girl looking at the boy for reassurance, the boy looking at the list for an escape.

I am sitting at EAT. I just finished my lunch, and am now relaxing next to the window reading my book. The door is open, and the cold wind is rushing in, leaving the sunshine outside.
I had an orange juice. I need the vitamins. I am so tired. I had a lot of sleep, but my eyelids still feel heavy. It is all about perspective. I sleep more and feel more tired. It is all about perspective.

I am walking the fine line between content and stressed. A lot of things have changed in the past month -even in the past week. Have you ever experienced the kind of relief that will not allow you to be happy? The kind of relief that seems almost impossible; almost out of place?
I am so used to seeing my day as a list, that I forget the heading. Life. Living it. Not completing tasks, but experiencing moments.

I walked through a park today; I passed a patch of daisies, a full rubbish bin and a dog carrying a branch. I reached the road, and saw a gap between two buildings across the street. Everyone was walking past it, not paying attention to how wonderfully out of place it was. And then I noticed over the gap, how the wall of another building was taken over by a green moss; my heart skipped a beat. It was so beautiful, so unexpected, beauty of the world that stays hidden in plain sight. Looking at a gap should not only be about taking note of what is missing; it should be also be about finding out what is already there.

I sigh; the couple next to me have finished their list, and they look content; I am content too, even though my list is far from over.

Love,

G

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Penny for Your Thoughts

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Absolute blank; infinite void; totally empty. I am standing in front of a man in a suit, ready to give me a penny for my thoughts, and it is now that my mind goes completely vacant. I look at him, smile awkwardly, and let the silence do the talking.
But I must start from the beginning. I woke up today with a start, grabbed my phone quickly and checked the time. I got up, put Scissor Sister‘s Magic Hour on the speakers, scoffed down a bowl of cereal and jumped in the shower.
Minutes later I was in a crowded hot bus, that was following the London Good Weather Rule: when the sun shines, everything slows down. We were going at a snail’s pace, but so was everything around us; people seemed to stroll down the street; the power-suits were replaced with summer dresses, and the briefcases with canvas bags.
It felt as if everything around me was going in slow motion, while my insides were fast forwarding; my heart was racing, I had a deadline, and the bus was so hot. I decided to press the stop button (repeatedly), and get off, as my to-do list was burning my pocket; I had an infinite amount of chores to finish, and determined to finish on time, I went in super efficient mode, completing everything way before I expected to. I found myself startled when I crossed the final thing on my list 2 hours after setting off to do it. I blinked hard, scanned the list again, and opened my mouth as if to say something; nothing came out.
I was close to Southbank, so I decided to kill some time in the Tate Modern shop. I looked around, decided on a budget on my purchases, broke my budget, payed and walked out with two bags and a latte.
I walked out of the main entrance, and stopped. The grass in front of Tate was filled with people soaking up the sun, in various stages of undress, alone, in groups, with drinks and ice creams, smiles and pouts, mechanical fans and oversized hats. Tourists were taking pictures next to Damien Hirst’s Hymn (a giant anatomy model of the human body in the courtyard), pointing at various organs and giggling.
Just as I was thinking that it is impossible to resist loving London in the summer, a man caught my attention from the corner of my eye. I did a double take, not really sure what I was seeing.
He was sitting outside of the grass area, on a mat. His grey suit defied the weather, and the overall scruffy look that he was sporting, with his retro sunglasses and his fluorescent green digital watch. He was sat in the middle of a mountain of pennies, and had a sign in front of him. The sight reminded me of Scrooge McDuck, swimming in his pool of coins, and that fact alone made me curious; what was written on the sign? What did this man want?
I stopped for a bit, backtracked and looked at the reactions of the bypassers. Most of them ignored him. The ones that noticed him, seemed to dismiss him as homeless or a beggar. But something did not add up.
My curiosity won in the end, and I noticed that I was walking in his direction. I stopped in front of him, smiled, and read the sign.
Penny For Your Thoughts.
He grabbed a penny from the pile next to him, extended his hand to me, and held it there.
Crap. I can not think of anything. What are my thought? Think of something. Anything. Lyrics from a song, lines from a movie, memorable quotes from coffee mugs or coasters. Nothing. Not a single thing. The only thing that came out was ‘I feel stressed’.
The man smiled, looked at me, and asked me why am I stressed in such a nice day. Truth be told, I did not have an answer to that. All my chores were done, I had just bought a library’s worth of books and I was in the middle of the loveliest city on a sunny day. Why was I stressed? And then it hit me. All of these thoughts were not there before; just the emotion. I was too consumed in feeling stressed, and I did not allow myself to question why.
I smiled to the man again, shrugged and said, ‘I don’t know’. We started talking, and I learned that his name is Martin, and he is a performance artist. Penny for Tour Thoughts is a piece he has presented in Liverpool and Manchester, and is performing in London for the first time. Martin is relying to curious bystanders and their perception of him. ‘People pass and see someone in a suit, and they think, is this guy begging for money? My presence here, my purpose is to confound their expectations, to engage them’, he says, and flashes a grin. So, why here, why in Southbank outside of Tate Modern? ‘Well, I am not sure what makes a good spot, or what makes a spot at all. It would be interesting to see what people’s reactions are here, and what people’s reactions are in other places, like in the middle of the City!’.
We talked for a few more minutes, during which he told me that even though it had been a bit slow during the day, he is there until the end of the week, handing pennies for thoughts and startling people.
I got up, and felt lighter. I had a penny in my pocket, and a smile on my face. I looked around, and with my next step, I decided to join the slow-motion crowd. I went in a cafe, had chocolate cake and strawberry milk for lunch, and walked along Thames, breathing slowly, blinking, taking it all in.

Penny for your thoughts.

Love,

G

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