02/19/19
Off of a recommendation I was going to wake up and go to Duck and Egg to watch the sunset, but decided to get some more rest. Today I am going to the Olympic Park to swim in the same pool Michael Phelps won his record 8 medals. That way I can say we’re pretty much the same, minus the medals.
I pack up my swimsuit, and I’m off, but first I’m going to stop at Old Spitalfields Market. I take the tube and get off on my stop a little peckish. I stop at a random bakery on the way and have finalized one thought about London, they got the pastry game on lock. I get a chocolate cannoli, delicious, but my favorite was the custard tart. This thing was the perfect ratio of flambeed filling to perfectly flaky crust, it was unbelievable.
As I eat these I walk through the market, it’s just opening.
The food places don’t peak my interest too much, even though they look good, but the pastries hold me over and I conclude it’s time to get my swim on.
I have to walk through Brick Lane to get to the bus stop and am not disappointed. I see a barber place called Jack the Ripper and have concluded I’ll be back to get my haircut later that day...when in London, am I right? I pass by the other Cereal Killer Cafe location, and walk up to the place I’m looking forward to trying the most: The Beigel Bake.
I walk into this cash only establishment that is stocked with pastries, doughnuts, and most of all, bagels. I walk up to the counter, see the vaulted prize of salted beef under the heat lamp and order the salted beef bagel. I receive this gift (obviously I paid so it wasn’t technically a gift, but truly a gift to my tastebuds) and dig in. The bagel isn’t toasted, which I thought I wouldn’t like, but the texture goes so well with the collective unit. The salted beef is perfectly tender and melts in your mouth, the crunch of the pickle adds another layer to the textures, and the spicy mustard gives this minimalistic bagel all the pizzaz that it needs. I know it may sound weird to us Americans, but I recommend this to anyone that stops by the Brick Lane area.
After finishing off my bagel on the walk to the bus stop I hop on a double decker bus and am off to the Olympic Park.
I get off on what I believe is the closest stop...it’s not. So I walk another mile, but I reach the Olympic Park!
I pay the entrance fee, get in my swimsuit, and realize they made the main pool into a fun play area for kids. Oh well, the training pool is good too.
Side Note: To say I am out of shape in the water is an understatement.
I do a minimal amount of laps, probably about twenty minutes worth, and I am out of there. I get back in the locker room to realize that they don’t have towels. I don’t know why I assumed they would have towels, they usually don’t in America either, but I guess I just have to air dry in the dressing room.
Side Note: I also didn’t bring goggles, so my eyes looked as red as if I smoked a pound of weed.
The Olympic Park has great WiFi connection so I FaceTime Emily first, my Mom after, in order to update them on my escapades. It’s fun to catch up, but now it’s time for the ArcelorMittal Orbit, the one minute long slide located just outside of the aquatics center.
I walk out and you are struck by the almost flowing red steel twisting and turning it’s way to the sky, and what looks like a chrome globe that sits atop the structure. I walk over and am ready to buy the ticket to conquer this beast…
...and they’re sold out. It’s a bummer, but not too big of a deal for me, but there was a mom with her two kids that travelled hours just for this and the daughter left in tears. This obviously has a big draw. For me, I’m headed back to Brick Lane.
As I’m walking toward the bus stops I notice a mall so I decide to hop in their first to see if it is any different than America. Nope, not really. So I find that no busses are going my way on the way out, so I take the tube.
The tube let’s you out about half a mile from Brick Lane, so I walk the rest of the way back. The streets leading to it are heavily muslim influenced and have great street market feels outside of their store fronts. If I didn’t have a goal in mind I might have stopped to get something.
Of course the first thing I see is the Beigel Bake and I ponder if I should get another. “No, Sean” I think to myself, “You must save room for Indian food for lunch.” So I stopped at the other place in sight, Cereal Killer Cafe. Don’t worry I didn’t ruin my appetite with cereal, I only got their LOADED HOT CHOCOLATE. It was solid, not great, but I got the Peanut Butter Hot Chocolate, and nothing goes better together than peanut butter and chocolate.
Side Note: Maybe almond butter, but I think I might just be going through a phase with that right now.
After I finish off this deliciousness I walk down Brick Lane and check out the stores.
I walk by Jack the Ripper barber and think I should get a haircut now since there is no line. Naw, I wanna eat. So I make my way to a heavily recommended Indian restaurant, Dishoom.
I walk in, and it’s a nice establishment. Something you might see in LA, nice wood tables, a bar in the corner, not really what I thought I wanted. But was I wrong. This place took me on a journey and that was all in part thanks to the very helpful waiter. He gave me two options, if I’m less hungry these two dishes, if I’m going for it these three dishes. What do I look like an amateur? Give me the three.
The first dish I had never seen in my life. It was marinated minced lamb meat with a buttery Indian bun on the side. Holy. Shit. This is the appetizer? I’m already in love.
He brings the next dish which was a chicken curry dish with garlic naan (the third dish, sorry for confusion). God. Damn. If I tried to explain the flavors I wouldn’t be doing it justice, so I will suffice by saying it was (and still is) the best Indian food I have had in my life.
The waiter asks if I want to take a look at the dessert menu. Uh, based off the way this meal is going, hell to the yes. Do I have room for dessert? Not one bit. Will I get whatever he recommends? Yes. When he brings back the menu I just ask him what I should get. Mango Kulfi. Don’t know what that is, but let’s do it.
He brings out what looks like a popsicle, and once again, it’s delicious. It’s the perfect combo of real fruit and cream to make an almost smoother and thicker sorbet.
And what does the waiter do at the end? “The only real way to end your meal.” He sets down a dirty chai latte. On the house. What a guy.
I waddle out of the restaurant and start walking back to the barber. I get there and about four people are waiting. Shit. I decide I’m going to walk the street toward the bus stop to see if there is anything else. I’m striking out. I go down one side street as a last ditch effort and find one spot. Should I go in? Just do it.
I walk in and see a clean cut guy that passes me off to the barber who has a very alternative looking haircut. I’m ready for whatever. I tell him to do whatever he thinks would look good. He decides to go high and tight, down. He brings me a beer, we chat about football (he tells me “just call it soccer, people will already hate you cause you’re American”, he’s friendly but honest). He finishes up and I think I look pretty fresh.
I get to my bus and see Shoreditch as I ride back to the hotel. I need to come back here. The barber recommended Blue’s Kitchen for a bar with live music. Don’t worry, I’ll be back.
I get back to the hotel and then it’s off to the open mic poetry event. I go back and forth on whether or not I should read a poem, especially as an American. I decide against it (I definitely should have done one though). The event came with some British humor, very personal stories, but the most impressive thing of all was a woman that lacked all motor function in a wheelchair performing her poem. She had the same tech Steven Hawking used to speak, and not only was performing her poetry impressive, the content was captivating. My favorite line of the night (sorry I don’t remember the context) was a deadpan fellow talking about his diet (I think) “I switch between butter and drugs”.
Anyways the event ended at nine, and London is a place for the most part that closes at ten. So I make my way to a jazz place called Ronnie Scott’s. Eight pound cover charge, I’m alright.
Side Note: Travelling alone I noticed that covers aren’t truly worth it when you aren’t single. Good by me, saves me some money!
I start walking towards another bar, but notice Poppies, a fish and chips place. Haven’t had it yet, I guess I gotta try it while in London.
I sit down and order the dish and a beer. The Camden Pale Ale I got has been the only beer I’ve had that’s somewhat interesting while in London. Interesting means tasty, good in this context. I get the fish n’ chips and dig in. The fish is fried nicely but nothing better than you can get in the U.S. The chips on the other hand are not anything I like at all. The chips are thick, which is fine, but flimsy and no crispy texture at all. It seems I don’t like London style chips.
The conclusion I garnered from my time at Poppie’s was that all I really want is Cereal Killer Cafe, Beigel Bake, and Indian food. OK...and British pastries.
I walk out dissatisfied and notice a doughnut shop on my walk to the tube. It’s 4.50, no thanks. I go back to the hotel and while the fish and chips might have brought me down a little, I still had another fantastic day in London!
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