Bube Tube Dude Strike.

Romantic, efficient.
The tube, the tube, the tube.
England loves transportation.

And workers love to vocalize 5 percent pay increase desires.
A strike, a strike, a strike.

Strike, transportation. These don't pair like beer and curry.

I usually take the Hammersmith and City from Farringdon to Aldgate East to get to work.

Now, what will I do? Walk? Work on my computer in my most very favorite coffee shop, Paul?

Photo courtesy of Alex Farris. That's me, Rachel and Sam perplexed on the tube. When it was working. Now it is broken because the workers made it that way. That's not really true, but I like the tube a lot. Riding it makes me feel less guilty about having a car at home. And I like that the Piccadilly line ends at "Cockfosters." And I also really like to look at the old women and business men and white girls with treacherous looking heels. And I like to accidentally grab people's hands in an awkward fashion when reaching for the bar. And I also like to repeat after the machine woman who says "mind the gap." My accent isn't convincing unless I say, "Mind the Gap, Ski-uhls! (Skittles)."

Come on strikers, my mom told me peace is possible.

Share the London Love

Bubble surprises at Camden Market. CJ Lotz.

The glorious Caitlin Van Kooten is visiting before her own study abroad in Dublin. We overwhelmed our senses at the Camden market and saw all the touristy wonders as well.

Leaning Tower of Big Ben + Parliament. CJ Lotz.

Some recent work at Mute, the magazine where I intern:

A short piece critical of turning "organic" urban gardening into a complicated trend

A short bit + article about the Tarnac Nine. Really interesting discussion of using fear as a weapon, especially in France.

Blooms

Lunch hour, exploration of future story ideas. I took a stroll down Brick Lane, past the curry shops, past the cheap fabric stores and painted panels,


took a right at Buxton Street, gandered through the footballers in the park. Then I glimpsed mammoth Queen Anne's Lace and signs encouraging my steps

all the way to Spitalfields city farm. First I found vegetables, the best kind.



Then I saw my worries sprouting away in the hard drive.



Children and their mamas lunched and watered their herbs.



And even the broken found a place.




As I rambled, I found all kinds of puppies (animals). Some ate oats, some ate scraps, some said baaaaaaaaaa, others were guinea pigs and some couldn't see because they were too stylish.


Others were sly, seductive, upfront about their desires.



Then I jotted back to Whitechapel, back past the curry, into the cardamom, but with the memory of earth whiffs and basil. I found it hard to distinguish thought and sky.

Found in London

I found a "find" today,

A drawing of an engine.

I found a "find" yesterday too,

A note from a drama instructor to her student about rescheduling rehersal.

I love leaning over in the middle of the sidewalk to pick up a scrap of paper that may be a doodle or awkward middle school love letter.

As soon as I find a scanner, I'll show some of my London finds.

For now, check out the inspiration:

foundmagazine.com

Paul Farmer + Obama = Paurack Fabama = Yes.

Paul Farmer is the man. His idea of bringing Harvard-quality medicine to the poorest places (Like Haiti) revolutionized the way the medical world treats the world's needy. There's talk of him taking a place in the new administration. I say, good move. Farmer is young, compassionate and bright, and if there is a surge in AIDS relief money, I'd like to see Farmer in charge of it.

Paul Farmer and Obama

The food issue: diners, taste of Haiti, France

Photo: Wee Willie's still life, CJ Lotz.

Before I left Bloomington, I finished an article about Edie, a diner waitress at the rootsy local Wee Willie's Diner on South Walnut. I spent time sipping coffee, chatting up locals and watching the simple, focused work life that Edie lived, although there were personal surprises that surfaced once I got her to talk about them. She's 75 and can't retire. Here's her story:

Edie

I love diner food. I love the Americana nostalgia of buttered toast, scrambled eggs with onions and way too many cups of coffee. I've spent so many good mornings with people I love just eating food slowly because our mouths were telling stories. When I was 5ish-8ish my favorite place was "Cactus Jack's" in Eureka. Carvings of "CJ" decorated the walls, and I didn't realize that they weren't for me. I always ordered a huge chocolate milk and pancakes that the chef made with Mickey Mouse ears and a whipped cream smile. A healthy breakfast for a growing girl who never liked Mickey Mouse much except in the shape of pancakes.

Then there's Uncle Bill's in St. Louis. After picking golf balls from the field at Tower Tee all night (this is something you do when your dad wants to build your character), there's nothing like a stack of pecan pancakes and an honest cup of joe.

Diner waitresses move fast so their regulars can sit and sip and speak slowly.

Wee Willies is my Bloomington favorite. Thanks, Josh for taking me there.

Today, though not in diners, I tasted two perfect meals:
After church with a few Haitian friends I've made in London, we shared glasses of mango juice and:

1. Haitian lunch.
Diri ak pwa: beans and rice
poul avek sos: chicken and sauce
pwason avek zepis: fish and spices
yam/manioc salad, green salad

Photo: Nick, my Creole professor at IU, enjoying Haitian beans and rice and chicken.

I hobbled to the train station, full after four plates for a mandatory dinner with our internship leader. When I say mandatory I mean amazing.

2. Le Mercury, adorable and affordable French cuisine.

Red wine I don't remember how to spell
Hot goat cheese and bread with pesto sauce and leafy salad
Mussels in cream sauce with thyme and basil
Creme brulee with perfect crunchable top
Calypso coffee + liquor

A needed the long walk home to digest. Happy tummy. Happy day. Bondye se bon.

Dover and Laura Goins' future home

The world from a bus window looks similar across continents. Tree. Tree. Car. Tree. Field...

We drove to Dover and Canterbury today to see castles and other beautiful sites not usually seen from any window of mine:

Dover Castle. The most amazing part was how history was built upon generations of history. I can just imagine the British saying "shoot, we're doing cool stuff, I guess we need another castle," or "shoot, here comes another war. Let's build more secret tunnels. They can wind around the medieval part and up past the WWI lookouts."

Our ancestors shot arrows at our other ancestors from here. Or, they tied ropes to arrows and sent messages in buckets to people bored in other windows.

No words are needed on British signs. It could read: "Don't Fail at Everything."

When we drove to Canterbury, I was thinking about tales and a dear, dear friend of mine, Laura. She'll be studying there for a whole year starting this fall. I thought I'd go ahead and make sure it's a cool place. Laura, there's a sweet army surplus store:


Get those boots and step on crickets.

There's also the main Cathedral of the Anglican Church:


Which featured tracery in overwhelming amounts. We were all reverent, except for this one disrespectful lounging man just chilling in the sanctuary:

Don't worry, I think it's a safe place for Laura to live. But there are a lot of pubs, a lot of old people, and a really good fudge shop that she'll have to deal with.