Oh so hazy pub crawl...

One thing I am most unused to is a constant state of drunkenness. In my old age, I rarely drink and even more rarely drink to the point of excess. Frankly I can't afford the hangover time anymore and it's expensive. That sounded even older than I wanted it to...

Saturday I went back to the British Library for research purposes, mostly out of guilt for not having done so and needing to report to professors as such back home. I checked out the items I most wanted to see, but felt again disappointed at how I missed out on something by being in a generation where I can see all of these things online and at home. I thought holding 400-year old documents in hand might have some kind of magic, and it does, but not in a way worth the trip probably. Sadly. After a bit, I found myself needing to sit there long enough to justify having someone retrieve said items for me - is an hour enough to prove that I'm a serious scholar? If I were a serious scholar, that question would likely not need asking at all, I suppose.

I met Sarah and we had a nice lunch at Pret - a mushroom risotto soup that was so scrummy that I still want another cup and I'm not even a big fan of mushrooms. I returned to the library for more "work" time and then met up with her at the flat to decide how we'd spend the remainder of our Saturday in London. Originally she had a friend coming to meet her for the weekend, but he couldn't make it, thus leaving us with rearranged plan time. I'm glad, too, because this ended up being one of my favorite days of the whole trip.

We decided to hit Portobello Road market (in Notting Hill) and it was all I wanted it to be and more. Not only is this the cutest damn neighborhood you can possibly imagine, but the market is huge - we walked for over a mile and for hours and didn't see even half of the market. They have everything there from jewelry to antiques to food to ... whatever. You'd have to see it to believe it. I had a blast, and got my future nephew a Ramones onesie. We started to get hungry and decided that hell or high water, we were having curry for dinner tonight and opted for the fail-safe Brick Lane district in Whitechapel. The same Whitechapel made famous by Jack the Ripper (yay). We came across the Ten Bells pub, dated 1666, advertising absinthe (double yay), and vowed we'd stop back in after supper.

Brick Lane is its own little world. I love the three or so block stretch of curry houses where men stand outside the doors and try to lure you in with specials, free wine, discounts, and these get better as you go further down the street. It's strange and it makes me suspicious and uncomfortable, the same way I dodge the people in the mall with clipboards. But we had already decided to eat at Aladdin because it is publicly touted as "the favourite of Prince Charles" and how can you go wrong with that endorsement? In short, the food was AMAZING and inexpensive and it was the kind of food that makes my tummy feel happy in its own right. We ate Chicken Ticca Masala, Saag Paneer, poppadoms, garlic naan, and veggie samosas. I can't remember when I've had a more satisfying meal.

We ventured back to the Ten Bells, which was so cool inside - it was dark and the old wallpaper made it creepy. I'd never had absinthe and so Sarah and I shared one. It's odd because it tastes like anise - which I don't like - but as soon as you taste it, you crave more of it. We chatted up some girls at a nearby table and finished the drink. I see why people love it and why so many places outlaw it. It is more than alcohol; it has some kind of narcotic effect, which I learned is heighted dramatically by movement, say, on an Underground train. I felt impaired after only one-half of a drink and it got better from there. We headed to The George Inn, where we had Strongbow cider and George Inn Ales, met up with some very chatty folk. Then to London Bridge station because I wanted to finally go to that club I missed on my birthday last year, but alas, the queue was already long and not moving, so we passed on. Next up was Cheshire Cheese - probaby the coolest of the pubs I've been in so far. It's 1667 - rebuilt post-fire - and is still in the old style of having small individual rooms, each with a bar, and you can even sit in the hallways between and drink. Here we had more cider - mine was strong and unremarkable, really - and then we discovered Samuel Smith's Organic Cherry Fruit Beer. It's delightful, strong, and doesn't taste like beer in any way. It's like cherry cider and we had a couple of them. We also chatted up an incredibly drunk Englishman who only moments later did not recognize us. Quite amusing. At some point later, I lost the ability to focus - visually, mentally, etc. I may have called Jamison. I definitely walked home from there but don't remember it well. I spent the rest of the night trying to keep the room from spinning.

But I had a great freakin' time...