After a rough day from before, Justin and I woke up to a breakfast of salmon tartar, hot coffee, and…
… Orange poppy seed cake. I never noticed until then, but there are very few things as pleasurable as having a huge wedge of cake with a cup of good coffee.
The place was Nordic Bakery, a small Scandinavian cafe tucked away in a quiet block off the bustling streets of Piccadilly Circus. Featured on the “cool” periodicals like Wallpaper and Monocle, it is praised not only for its menu but also for its design.
I really enjoyed its cappuccino: so silky, aromatic, and rich. One thing I noticed is that the general quality of cappuccinos served at your average cafe is considerably higher in Europe than what I find in North America. In the past, I never liked cappuccinos, because they tasted watered down (and the poor quality made them overpriced).
(Marimekko bags on the wall)
But I guess I like the cafe’s interior design and ambiance even more. Don’t know what it is exactly, but there exists this strange bug in my system that goes crazy every time I encounter Scandinavian or Scandinavian-inspired designs. Maybe it is because of the clarity and ease with which beauty is found. The lines and their intersections appear so straightforward and simple that I can’t help thinking to myself: “Why yes! It must have been like this, and it should have been like this. All along.”
We spent an afternoon at Tate Modern, one of the most anticipated stops on our list.
Lots of art, magnificent spaces, sunny weather, quaint surroundings, and a view by the river. What’s not to love? Like the V&A, this is another place that I would love to drop by randomly in times of dolce far niente.
I also sent my mum a quick hello via the awesome webcam service outside the museum shop. Simply record your message, enter the recipient’s email, click submit, and voilà! You got yourself and your faraway loved ones a sweet souvenir. Despite my incessant prodding, Justin adamantly refused to appear on camera for his family and friends. What a cold-hearted party-pooper.
“And Justin is taking pictures of staircases. He doesn’t want to say hi.”
After a quick supper of baked seafood rice, we went to see the St. Paul’s Cathedral city salute parade. Not sure of its precise purpose, but I reckon the event was for honouring the British military. Unfortunately, my height prevented me from fully appreciating the parade. Physical compactness, apparently, is not always a desirable trait in our modern age.
(original image from The Daily Mail)
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