London is Eating Me Alive

My plane touches down in London this morning and so I thought, what better way to celebrate than with a guest post by the lovely Xandra of Fashionably Light, who has been living her own English expat adventure for the past few years. Take it away, Xandra…

I think that my spirit animal is a chipmunk. I tend to scurry, and if I were an animal I would want to be small and cute. I also eat a lot. So like the chipmunk that I am, when I landed in London, keys to my own piece of the city at last, I dropped my bags and ran for the nearest tube station.

Day 1: Home furnishing shopping at Muji and Cologne and Cotton, stopping at Planet Organic for lunch and Daunt Books for dessert [Dessert was a book, to be consumed by the mind. Deep, right?], then meeting a friend for breakfast at midnight at VQ.

Day 2: Foodie adventures featuring brunch at the Borough Market, the El Bulli exhibit at Somerset House, Sketch Glade afternoon tea, topped with a cultural eve at the Old Vic.

Day 3: Regents Park Open Air for a Shakespearean matinee, strolling through Spitalfields Market, cosy-seated cinema at the Aubin, and post-film dinner at Pizza East.

Day 4: Walking from the Barbican to Bank just to see what’s in between, picnic in Hyde Park, photography exhibit at the Royal Geographical Society, walking with dinosaurs at the Natural History Museum.

Day 5: Collapsing, and watching How I Met Your Mother all day.

And in the meantime, this writer did not give herself one moment to sit down and reflect. This minimalist writer, I should add, as simplicity is my game – yet here I was, consumed by the stuff around me. London London London London all day no break.

I thought I was prepared. I’ve been an ex-pat for three years now, studying in Oxford, pilgrimaging to London fortnightly for day-long urban adventures. A day, I’ve found, is the right length for cultural stimulation, for pumping life and adventure into me. Library fuel. But longer than that? It’s a bit of an overload. Full-on fun every day is not as desirable as it sounds.

Since arriving I’ve been building up a craving for countryside. For reading Jane Austen novels and knitting. For sitting in a tree and graze gazing [that's the term I coined for the ever-thrilling practice of watching sheep. They're adorable].

So I’ve revised my strategy. I’ve calmed down. This chipmunk, out of her natural habitat, is pacing herself. Equipped with the research from my beautiful guidebooks (London Style Guide by Saska Graville, The Goddess Experience by Giséle Scanlon, and my own work-in-progress Moleskine City Notebook), Time Out London, and my morning emails from The Londonist, I craft my week carefully. I use a diary with small enough spaces that I don’t over-cram. I pick one adventure per day only and leave the rest to spontaneity. These adventures are based around my spiritual needs. London is vast, and though metropolitan, has pockets of rural wonderland – urban farms, rolling fields of park, whimsical teas served by cozy sofas. The best way to spend a Sunday, I’ve found, is Puppy-Counting in Hyde Park. Record is 49, so far.

Keep it simple,