In from the cold, and it's still cold

We're supposed to have this bbq today and London weather is out in full force. I had a cute little sundress all picked out and now I may have to change outfits cause it is chilly and drizzling. Hoping the sun comes out at some point though.

Speaking of chilly, last night was biting. I went out to dinner with the RT (great dinner date by the way...that Chinese food was da bomb) and while standing in line, for...wait for it...ice cream, I was just dying of the chills.

Let me digress. We decided we were going to do dessert at the Haagen Dazs restaurant, after a great meal, and when we first passed by I said to myself, wow, look at those assholes in this long queue for ice cream. I was later one of those assholes, and it was much colder too. lol. But the wait in the face of cold breeze and cackling of teenagers was worth it. The chocolate waffle was good for the soul and for the complexion.

But back to chilly...

I am not the tourist who depends on the relatives to take me places and drop me off, and London is not really that kinda city either. You have your Oyster card and you're pretty much set. But after 12.30, you're screwed. Enter the night bus. Oh my God. When I got to the bus stop and realised I missed the last regular bus to my stop by a minute, I was about to die. Not only was I cold, but I was surrounded by thirsty Africans who kept staring at me and trying to be friendly. Do I look like a friendly person??? These are the times I really really miss my car and the convenience of liming as late as you want without the worry of having to suffer on a cold corner for a damn bus.

And call me diva (go ahead, I give you permission) but when the bus comes to the stop and is ram crammed with smelly Londoners, with their arms hanging on to the handle bars, sending the aroma of expired deodorant into the night, you wait for an empty bus. lol. When I eventually got an empty bus, I had to change at another station, where not only was it biting cold, and where there was a couple of foxes lurking around for bits of food, but this chatty bright African felt the need to come offer me a ride. To where? Rape and destruction??? I doh think so friend. Even though my bus was a mere 20 mins away, I did the only thing I could have done. I called for a ride. lol. Luckily my cousin is as much as a night owl as I am, and was still awake, at minutes to 3am, and so when the African would not frickin' leave, I told him my man was coming to get me and dashed across the street and hopped onto the warm welcoming leather of the Beemer. Thank you God!

My next challenge is trying to make a pelau with limited ingredients - no fresh carrots, but some mushy shit in a tin; no fresh celery; no shadon beni. My goodness. I ask God to bless my attempts with this Anglo-Trini pelau this morning.

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Life in London

The sun is out today. Yesterday was a typical dismal English day but I still braved the cold winds and went out to do my important job as a tourist. Though Robbie and I had spent a good chunk of time there last time I was here, I had to spend a little bit of time in the National Gallery again. I could spend all day there. Earlier I had gone to the Tate Modern and again, I have confirmed that I am not a huge fan of contemporary art. It was an amusing experience, though not a thoroughly enjoyable one. I am not really artsy fartsy but I know what I like and yeah, I love the classic stuff. I saw some pieces that I could probably do and if all it requires is painting an entire canvas blue with a splash of red and yellow somewhere, then I can be an artist as well. Still, I did enjoy my day. I walked a lot, both for the fun of it and to walk off some of the crap I have been eating. Though I did not walk with gym gear this time, I really wish I had.

I am always amused by the hustle and bustle of Londoners - the tightness of a man's arse as he scurries from tube stop to tube stop, the plethora of ugly flat shoes on scores of women who rush from the train to wherever they work, most likely with a pair of heels in their bags for when they get to the office. And then there is me - in my sweater and flip flops, idly walking to the underground with no care for whether the train is there or not. I know I will get to where I am going at some point. This is the power of vacation and man, am I owning it.

But I can relate to these men and women. The alarm goes off at 3.20am and I curse and hustle to make it out of the house by 4.45 for the latest to avoid traffic and road rage. I park my car and then slip into my flats for the short but dangerous walk to the office and by dangerous, I mean the dozens of holes, bumps and inclines on Port of Spain pavements. I have had to repair enough shoes because of our Third World pavements.

But I never thought I would say it, but one almost misses the catcalls and amusing comments from Trini men on the street because here noone looks at anyone, noone speaks. Heads are buried in books and newspapers or iPods drown out the world. It's a bit sad, but it's just how it is. It makes gaping a bit useless since noone is gaping back. lol

I promise to fill you in on Italy soon but for now I am relaxing. I feel like I need to dedicate myself to that entry. Tomorrow, we are having a barbecue, hoping the weather is as cheerful as it is today, but then all Trinis need are each other and alcohol and it will always be a good time. I have been recruited to make a pelau, though why my cousin feels the need for one is beyond me. In any event, I am not complaining. Thanks to my darling Cat though, I get to see a show I have been wanting to see ever since I saw the poster underground. So next Wednesday, the Cat and the 'bat are off to see La Tanguera. Tonight I am off to Leicester Square for dinner with the RT and for now, I am eagerly anticipating my breakfast date.

The time is going by so fast now as the end is near.

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Break in communication

One would think it would be easy to come and write about my adventures in Italy but somehow I just cannot bring myself to blog about them. They were great and I had an awesome time and maybe it is a hormonally charged episode of writer's block but I am just not in the mood to gush about my walks through the beautiful towns in the Tuscan countryside. I am home sick today, watching old reruns of Law and Order and waiting for my cherries delivery - to be hand-delivered with love and consideration I should add. I am vegging intensely today and that's what vacations are all about.

I may feel more inclined to blog when I can download photos and not steal photos off the web. I would like my genuine experiences to be accompanied by genuine visual memories and not those of some other traveller. I am also now faced with the reality that 1)time does indeed fly when you're having fun and I will have to return to Trinidad eventually and 2)I still have a decision to make which I have put off the past week because it was too annoying to contemplate when the world was such a beautiful oasis of adventure. But now I am faced with the fact that I do indeed need to make this decision. It will not go away until I do.

Hope everyone is well.

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Bella...that's me!

I came all the way from the Caribbean to get a tan. Italy is hot. Despite my best efforts to look like I just walked out of my room all day, I was a hot tourist reaching for the euros to buy some water, slushies, gelato or soda. And I went playing farse, in this heat and decided I had to go to the Piazza de Michelangelo. I advise you Google this wonder to fully grasp the agony. No amount of time in the gym could have prepared anyone for this new form of torture as this sun blazed down upon the innocent.

The first half of the day went nicely, with a day spent in the Galleria degli Uffizi, art and history whore that I am. I am having a lovely time, in my little sun dress, enjoying a beautiful, albeit hot city, with a myriad of characters. Last evening, while sitting on the steps of the Duomo, I met Francesco, clearly alone and needy, who after 15 minutes of stilted conversation - his broken English and my zero Italian - invited me to dinner, at his house!!!! I told him I would meet him this evening instead at 8.00pm. It is now 7.49pm and I am in the hotel, with zero intention of walking back to the Duomo or anywhere but my room. Poor fella. I hope he does not wait around too long, but when your teeth are screaming for you to stop drinking coffee, smoking and to find a dentist, you have zero chance of making a good impression. Take a hint, boys.

The other admirers have been various flavours of odd and of course since I am black, I can only be from Africa since nowhere else in the world has black people. Steups.But they have not been grabbish or rude. Just full of admiration, maybe lust and curiousity.

I did meet a very nice lady from Paraguay while wasting away in the museum line this morning. When she asked where I was from and I was trying to decide whether to say Africa or Trinidad, I decided to go for gold and say Trinidad cause clearly I was meant to educate the world about the Caribbean. Instead, before I realised she was from Paraguay of course, she was like, "Oh Trinidad and Tobago!!!"

Friend for life!!!!

Thank God for CXC Spanish cause we managed to have quite a nice conversation in the end. She has been living in Italy for 21 years and was only doing the tourist thing cause her brother was visiting from Paraguay.

I also witnessed a police chase in the square as immigrants went pelting down the street, followed closely by il polizia in their skin tight pants. I was more anxious to see some ripped seams than captured Africans and Arabs.

And I think all the food I ate between last night and 5 minutes ago has been effectively burnt off from walking across the length and breadth of this city, which every guide book and the 2 Italians I spoke to, referred to as SMALL. lol. My feet are crying for justice. The food. How do people stay slim here? I have been trying it all and loving it all and tomorrow I will have more and tell you more about my waistline and my bliss.

Tomorrow, I don my yellow sundress and head to Tuscany, where hopefully my sugar daddy hunt will be more Diane Lane and less...well...less Francesco. Oh the excitement of my life!

I will do proper travel reviews when I have more time but right now my feet are as black as my flip flops from Vespa dust, and trudging up steep slopes. Ciao!

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Ciao a tutti

I am now in Italy, where I got to my hotel looking hot and greasy after a smelly train ride from the airport that seemed to have no end. No end of dirty trainline neighbourhoods - and smelly people.But there were some gorgeous natural highlights. My hotel room is cosy - small but spotless and with a bidet. lol. Gotta love Europeans but they know what they are doing. It will take me forever to type this with this European keyboard kicking my ass but I am alive and safe. I am going to hit the cobblestoned streets and start exploring and gaping. I have already sorted out where I am going to have some dinner later and take in the human sightseeing. Luckily for me, I am not the only black person in this part of the city because on the train I felt like an alien!

But do congratulate me for successfully adjusting my diva lifestyle to suit economy airlines and their cabin bag restrictions. Liquid eyeliner had to be sacrificed for toothpaste, but the mascara made the cut. No Bath and BodyWorks, but I got a small Body Shop shower gel to fit, and cooling spritz. Jesus. Hoping for the best!

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