traveler: grateful in London
I wake up on this Saturday morning, almost 5 months in to our life in London, and every move is like an exercise in gratitude for the life we have now.
I’m grateful for my partner who wakes me up with kisses at the time I requested because I forgot to bring my mobile phone/alarm clock to bed last night.
I’m grateful for our apartment. Small it may be, but it’s so “us” with pieces we’ve picked together with much thought and consideration. I love the solid oak work table paired with sleek white chairs and the welcoming grey expanse of our new sofa. I love that on the table are coasters I collected from assorted Munich hofbraus when we lived there. Our stuff is still piled against the walls and we decide the need for shelving has now been elevated to urgent, but we are still so happy with this space we’re making our home.
I’m grateful for our neighborhood of Shoreditch, with its street art, galleries and cafes. On a narrow street, we check out a cafe we haven’t tried before and make a nice brunch of a delicious burger, cooked medium rare as requested (which is very rare indeed), chocolate croissant, and coffees. The cafe, Ruby, is tiny but frequented by regulars, and we compare it approvingly with Ruby’s, the Australian joint that was our go-to spot for burgers in New York’s Nolita.
After paying our £10 bill, we pop next door to Kemistry Gallery to check out its exhibit by Danish design duo Hvass&Hannibal and admire the effect of curving wooden shapes paired with artful color combinations. Maybe we’ll come back for a screenprinted poster for our currently bare walls. Continuing on, we make our way past the small artbooks shop to the art supply store, buy some notebooks and pick up flyers for an exhibit at the Whitechapel Gallery.
Then I’m off to the small, friendly workout studio for a special dance workshop based on the movie classic “Dirty Dancing”. As we get beginner lessons in the rhumba, salsa and jive, I’m happy to have the confidence to stand at the front of the room, because I want space to move and a clear view of the instructor and I know I can pick up the steps and who cares if I can’t? Yesterday, I was feeling old and wishing I had done more things that now seem unseemly for a 32-year-old to do. But today, I am grateful for being 32, for having done what I have, to be where I am, to look forward to what’s next.
Add comment February 6th, 2010