two sundays ago: chilling in soho

twisted view, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

I've been meaning to tell you about Cafe Boheme on Old Compton Street in Soho for months now. I felt, at first, that its new incarnation was going to become my (Grand) Cafe Amsterdam away from Bucharest. Everything was tops, some dishes even amazing, the waiters brilliant and the closing hours—late enough to keep you partying into morning.

Then the French fries stopped being perfect, the bar turned cocktails out in random fashion, and for the two last Sundays we've witnessed them closing before midnight. It's still enjoyable, still worth, but not my most favouritest place to crash on a whim—albeit, none is, and that's very sad news indeed for an area gleaming with life and laughter.

That story aside, in this rather funny self-portrait you see yours sincerely chilling out at Cafe Boheme's nearby sister venue, Boheme Kitchen and Bar, also reopened recently and seemingly run by one of the former Cafe Boheme waiters. It's lovely that they open the large windows so that the likes of me can sit on the cushioned windowsill, smoke, and take the whole world in.

The food? I wouldn't know; possibly similar in price and quality. The drinks? We had Leffe, and that was on tap, a nice and rare touch in London. The DJ played an amazing number of my favourite former DJ tracks; though, God bless him, on vinyl. The evening was warm for June and, in my tiredness, I wore the sunglasses like those posh kids I dislike.

Afterwards we saw The Edge of Love at the Curzon around the corner, which proved fairly easy as only a few lunatics like us go to the movies past 9 p.m. on a Sunday. Both the movie and the late hour experience—highly recommended; what with their midnight hour films during the summer! In honesty, there isn't as much Dylan Thomas as promised, but that's fine.

Last Sunday wasn't so lucky and chilled. We showed up in Soho too late, and after strolling about more tempting places, ended up at Balans, because nearly every other venue was pulling the shutters. Oh, well, Balans isn't that bad, after all. But isn't my most favouritest either. When you want to kill the Sunday evening blues, Central London isn't the place.

reading: a heartbreaking work of staggering genius

We are unusual and tragic and alive. We walk into the throng of parents and children. We are disadvantaged but young and virile. We walk into the halls and the playground, and we are taller, we radiate. We are orphans. As orphans, we are celebrities. We are foreign exchange people, from a place where there are still orphans. Russia? Romania? Somewhere raw and exotic. We are the bright new stars born of a screaming black hole, the nascent sun burst from the darkness, from the grasping void of space that folds and swallows—a darkness that would devour anyone not as strong as we. We are oddities, sideshows, talk show subjects. We capture everyone's imagination.

Page 96, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, Dave Eggers

the day nothing happened

I spent Queen's official birthday sleeping late, observing the opening of the Porcelain Exhibition at the Croatian Embassy across the street (we must check out the building, mmm, porcelain in the coming weeks), lazying about various seating surfaces and angles, enjoying the few minutes of damn hot sun and, dear dear, watching Sex and the City, the movie. It is so awful, in so many ways, that I won't even go that way. Suffice to say I had enough focus left, during those long, squeaky hours, to read a good interview with Audrey Tautou in a free (junk) real estate magazine, check plenty of RSS feeds, photograph the outside world, entertain conversations, help with DIY and pluck various unruly hairs; I nearly squeaked myself when I could finally cook dinner.

my first moo order

my first moo order, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Except it wasn't exactly an order, but a gift for buying a Flickr pro account. Except I wasn't buying one, but renewing one; or is it the same? Except I did also buy one as a birthday gift for my mother; was I worth two Moo sets overall? Except upon arrival, the Flickr text on the back of the Moo card pack invited me to buy a pro account as a gift. Now wait a minute!

All this complexity aside, here are the ten free Moo cards I experimented with. I love the concept and business of Moo, but it really is too expensive a print and the cards—too small to communicate some great photo, too easy to lose in pockets and purses, too demanding a crop for the usual Flickr user. I've been given so many bad Moo cards over time!

Not that I've got the arrogance to call mines much better. Just better, and somewhat educational (process and photos), all in all. Still, impractical.

so

so, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

I've been on and off iTunes for quite a few years now. This is, however, the first sweet and ironic thing it's ever given me. Next to loading my iPods, of course. More to come before we're friends?

wardrobe remix: last saturday

saturday, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

A slow transition, again in tune with weather and activities, from Thursday to Friday to Saturday, a day that included, from noon until midnight, a pub for drinks and another pub for food in Chiswick with Gary and Adrian, an amazing contemporary dance & Shaolin Monks' martial arts show at Sadler's Wells in Islington/ Angel, the Tinder Box cafe and a Masala Zone terrace by The Screen on the Green in the same area with Amy, and finally a ride back home on the tube bearing signs of parties honouring the last day of drinking before Mayor Boris's ban. It all went as smoothly as planned and we were able to enjoy every experience in its own rhythm.

Among lazy summer week-end dressing, going to the theatre, and being outside in the late chilly evening I put together an outfit to please all eyes and yet keep me comfortable: the new white capris from Viet Nam, a matching jacket from Romania, the adorable and somewhat revealing black & white stripy top bought in Bucharest years ago, a French Mamselle style red scarf to compliment the red handbag that can hide two umbrellas, Amy's gift, and all other woman paraphernalia, adorable shoes from my sister (again!), by the sexy and pricey Musette, a Romanian brand of leather goods, the bracelets you know by now, a mother-of-pearl in sterling silver butterfly brooch, black & white just like the glass earrings of Italian provenance.

Though all these items are equally loved as guaranteed sources of pleasure, my highlight last Saturday was the world premiere of Sutra, a show that enchants, amazes, and expands one's mind and soul; a must if you come across it. See Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui & Antony Gormley rehearsing with Shaolin Monks at a temple in the Chinese province Henan.

last thursday @ Book Slam

Andrea Triana @ Book Slam, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Rachel introduced us last week to Book Slam, a monthly literary and musical event happening across various locations in London for a few years now. The line-up consisted of writer Toby Litt, performance poetess and former World Slam Champion Kat Francois, and Andreya Triana, soul music delight from Brighton.

Toby Litt has written nine books so far, titled in alphabetical order, and read us two stories from his latest book, I play the drums in a band called okay. Enjoyable. Kat Francois got the public raving with the unique interpretation of her poems, and made us wonder whether they preserve their rhythm in writing. Andreya Triana has a sweet, husky voice and made my heart sing with joy when I recognised a song in her too short a playlist.

While the founder Patrick Neate noted she's the first ever artist invited after browsing a MySpace page, I couldn't stop obsessing over the song I couldn't have heard on MySpace, because I never open it. Trying to locate the tune on iTunes today to perhaps buy it, I discovered I own it! Tea Leaf Dancers (Flying Lotus Featuring Andreya Triana) appears on Gilles Peterson's compilation Brownswood Bubblers Two, a Christmas gift from my love.

All in all, yummy evening for GBP 6/ capita in the inspired setting of the 12 Acklam Road club. Even though the bar made us pay a 1 GBP fee for buying a wine bottle with a card.

belated spotting: big ideas need big spaces

big ideas need big spaces, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Months ago I picked up this card from pub or cafe in London, because I liked the statement and the print. Consequently, I came about the idea behind it and found it great, even if sponsored by a commercial company: the Diesel Wall was touring Europe via Barcelona, Zurich, and Manchester. That Manchester, instead of London, made me forget about the contest and the photo of the card. Then, a newsletter received today reminded me about it, and checking the website I learned that New York follows (news to me) and that European cities are in various stages of the event, so you may still enjoy exhibitions if traveling to any of them soon. Details and updates on their blog.

5 minutes, take 3

5 minutes take 3, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

These 5 minutes were spent on the Herzliyya beach in Israel (near Tel Aviv) more than a year ago. The overwhelming amount of photos and tasks gathered on my plate meanwhile brought about this long pause in between the experience and its outcome. What tipped the balance, though, was the recent testing of Adobe Photoshop Lightroom, a piece of software I now adore. For the whole story, download 5 minutes, take 3 [PDF, 2.10 MB].

The series 5 minutes is about brief moments in our lives. 5 minutes when I truly look around. 5 minutes when our roads cross. 5 minutes when I reach out. 5 minutes when I empathise. 5 minutes when you see through my eyes, through my heart. Take 1 was about common people. Take 2, about common birds—silly city pigeons. Take 3 is about common fun times at the beach. Enjoy!

a good bit of my Saturday went along with Olivia Ruiz

Just when I thought that French music hasn't got much left to offer me, I found Olivia Ruiz. And loved her. And listened to all songs I could find. Songza, another new find, helped creating a playlist. And some of my Saturday went by in the company of the two. I give you one of my favourite songs so far, Ce Georges, a duet with Salvatore Adamo reminding me of Pink Martini.

he said it best

The Spanish commentator of Eurovision, right after the Romanian song (bleah!) was over: una pelicula de Disney, no me diga! A Disney movie, don't tell me! It sounded exactly like that.

watching: we own the night

Robert Duval's character: If you piss in your pants, you can only stay warm for so long.

Marinca to be Delpy's lover

Like many, I've seen Anamaria Marinca in 4 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days, the Romanian movie awarded Palm D'Or in Cannes last year. I've also listened to her afterwards, answering questions from the audience, and appreciated her views and thoughts. To my surprise, it turned out that she lives in London.

Decided to keep an eye on her future doings, I'm quite excited to announce that she replaced Radha Mitchell as Anna Darvulia in The Countess, Julie Delpy's new film. I'm a big fan of Delpy and that explains why I take seriously a movie about the blood countess Erzebet Bathory. Add that Anamaria Marinca plays Delpy's lover, while William Hurt and Ethan Hawke compliment the cast, and I think we have got a drama to look forward to.

friday: underwhelmed by Happy-Go-Lucky

Time Out - Mike Leigh and Sally Hawkins Interview - Photo 3, originally uploaded by sally-hawkins.com.

While most British publications and TV channels call Happy-Go-Lucky some sort of superlative comedy, I'm ready to bring the Dark Side of the latest Mark Leigh's offspring to your attention.

1. It is too long (2 minutes short of 2 hours).
2. It isn't as funny as the trailer suggests. Only a few scenes and dialogues are.
3. It isn't going anywhere: there is no plot, there is hardly any conflict, there is hardly any resolve and the main character stays unchanged.
4. There are no obvious depths to the main character, just a naive, one track approach to life.
5. There are scenes that do not add to the story (meeting the tramp, long walk in the street with classical music on the background—though I'd never thought I'd say this, too continental).
6. There are inconsistent cultural references: while a primary school teacher shopping in Camden would buy a plastic bracelet popular across Europe last year, she wouldn't buy a coffee mug from Liberty, would she?
7. The only highly conflictual scene is rooted in the least credible outbreak of the only negative character. It may be well acted, but still far-fetched.
8. It is predictable, which hardly ever goes down well with me.
9. It lacks the strength of Mike Leigh's Vera Drake (another long movie), though everyone praises him from having moved away from that bleak atmosphere.
10. Did I mention it is too long?

I'm sure I could add more, but these top of mind wrongs should build enough of a dark global picture. While on it, I must say: yes, Sally Hawkins does a good job of playing Poppy, I won't rise against her Silver Berlin Bear award. If anything, she was more convincing than when playing Anne Elliot in the ITV movie Persuasion.

I've seen that only a couple of months ago, last time I was in Romania. My mother loves zapping channels in search of something watchable and this is how we saw perhaps the second half of that one. I could tell from a mile that it was a Jane Austen novel. I couldn't tell, however, whether Sally's character was supposed to be ugly, which came through even more since she played next to Rupert Penry-Jones, the Adam Carter spy in the Spooks TV series from BBC.

Having seen Sally look good in photos, and then having seen her in Happy-Go-Lucky, too, I think directors love that unconventional beauty/ next door girl streak in her.

Update, May 24th 2008: there is some balance. My love loved this movie, and I love As Good As It Gets, so he got to watch the latter. He didn't like it, and his major complain was that characters aren't credible. My major complain would be, seeing it again ten years after, that it is too long/ slow. While I don't propose that the two movies have in common more than cinematic genres, I must remark, once again, that we appreciate rather different kinds of humour.

who is this? honestly

who am I? 3/5, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

I photographed a bunch of live statues on the Southbank two weeks ago but it's impossible for me to tell some of the characters. Help, if you please. The Spanish live statues, three years old, could also use an eagle's eye. Given some faint resemblances and repetitions—and, more so, the late hour—could it be they're more or less the same gang, traveling world cities all year round?

camera wars: ten comparative shots, one major decision

As it's no secret anymore, Panasonic gave me a Lumix DMS-TZ5 two days ago. Overall it seems better than my previous Sony DSC-W200 (a camera best described as... fair), but, since they're both compact and from different producers, a comparison is needed before I decide which stays with me. Theoretically, it'd be quite easy to opt for Lumix due to Leica lens, wide angle (28mm), and better zoom, but its iA technology can make it slow in shooting and it doesn't allow for barbarian treatments like maximum zoom + macro (see last two photos below). All photos' titles describe my use of the cameras. Honestly, what would you choose, and why?

wide interior, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

wide exterior 1/2, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

wide exterior 2/2, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

close-up interior, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

close-up exterior, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

macro exterior 1/2, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

macro exterior 2/2, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

maximum zoom exterior 1/2, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

maximum zoom exterior 2/2, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

maximum zoom + macro exterior, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

not so long ago today: ice & sleet

sleet, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

ice, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

And there I was, complaining about March weather, no idea April would turn me upside down. Funny enough, last time I mentioned the April snows in London an incidental blog reader got in touch to send me Prince's Sometimes It Snows in April (isn't this an interesting Google take?).

goodie bag in style

ready to embark, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Just back from a Panasonic event for bloggers, introducing some cool cameras and camcorders with iA and/ or HD inclinations. Charging my new Lumix DMC-TZ5 camera so that I can show you what its 28mm lens can do. Also, just how smashing it was to take the London RIB Voyage armed with a 25mm lens, touchscreen camera and an 8 GB SD card. Fair to say, that was the best boat ride since rafting down river Jiu four years ago; I loved the speed, and even the tilting—no motion sickness on Thames, just pure adrenaline.

As a side note, it seems that in London PR can sort out the weather, too, or simply get extremely lucky to organise the event on a day when the South Bank is at its best: sunny as hell, full of live statues and musicians, and packed as if there'd be a holiday. I'm liking this London. Sun can be so rare here that I forget what it's like, so only now do I understand why locals get so excited when the big star's on: all of a sudden the city swarms with shorts, dogs, tees, ice creams, outdoor events, freebies and sun glasses.

As Arnold Schwarzenegger subtly put it some 24 years ago, I'll be back with my goodie bag.

gotta love Time Out

Ultimately, music gives us an opportunity to build an understanding based on non-political criteria. Like sport, except it's something the UK is good at.

Eddy Lawrence, Why world music must die (i.e. as a brand), Time Out, April 3-9 2008

From the trailer, you can almost see the makers shooting for that 12A rating. Those who can remember the first series will recall that its script contained the ‘C’ word in virtually every sentence. Which was a good thing.

Time Out on Sex and the City's movie trailer

Note: The 'C' word. Because we're English here, and have no taste for the 'F' word, thank you.

saturday: brunch all the way, my way

charcuterie plate, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

cheese plate, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

I woke up late, naturally, after such a full Friday, and had no intention to leave the bed in a hurry. He thought of roaming Marylebone, on the other hand, and won, as always, but not before agreeing to brunch at La Fromagerie. I can be bribed. A few hours later it turned out that we had different definitions for brunch—mine only states, to be clear, that it's a meal that ends sometime before dinner. Which seating at our favourite table, incidentally, then sharing a cheese plate, a charcuterie plate, and a bottle of house red wine proved correct.

All nice until for the same money paid for cherries in brandy I got grapes in rum—not so bad, yet not the same—, the price of the baguette was nearly twice what we recalled (and the baguette a lost bet, in the end, which makes it worse), and the second cheese on the plate that works around the clock bit our throats and internal noses with the strength of a cheese that maybe could've ended the plate. If the Lithuanian waiter wasn't merely amusing us, the order on the plate changed after my complaint. Yet we never went back to that cheese.

Meanwhile, the place had opened its extension next door and seems poorly prepared to use the extra space at its best—which may explain some prices being higher than before. There is, indeed, one more big table, yet not in the smartest shape, and some more shelves but not that many to justify them spilling into the new room, plus a larger bar than before and even more staff about the place. The fact that owner Patricia was writing the product tags on the spot may be endearing, but not promising, business-wise.

However, as long as I can have their stuff now and then—that blue cheese by the apple slices was the dream of a cream—and they let me take my espresso cup outside for a smoke, we're staying friends. It makes sliding into nearby Oxfam, Waitrose, or the Farmers' Market on Sunday more tempting, and it sure offers the best coffee in the area. It's very pleasant afterwards to simply flow through one's remainings of the day: arranging flowers with a cup of tea, sorting groceries, watering plants, devouring the delicious once-in-a-quarter pork pie from the Ginger Pig, learning that I need some three-four shots before leaving to Vietnam—ouch, needles!—and giving the first season of Weeds (putting the herb in suburb) another chance to impress me.