I used to live in London. I tell people that, but in reality I was only there as a “resident” for three months before ending up in Zürich. Now I keep telling myself that London is where my heart lives. My body is happy in Zürich where I can easily access the mountains, where I can run along the lake, multiple rivers or up huge hills, but my heart is still beating for the hustle and bustle of London. I still yearn for the random encounters, the joy brought about by an unexpected ray of sun, the ability to nibble your way around the world’s many cuisines and, let’s face it, the shopping.

Zürich is not a shopping city. Some may say it’s reserved for those to whom the gold bars under Paradeplatz belong, but I would simply say it’s pretty insipid no matter how many Swiss Franc bills you have stashed under your pillow. The combination of the prices and the limited choice means that every time I go to London to visit friends I end up trying to coerce someone to spend half a day shopping with me. I just did that very thing last Friday, well, the persuading someone to shop with me part was unsuccessful seeing as it was during the day, but the successful outcome of the shopping itself was reflected in the discrepancy in weight of my suitcase on the in and out bound journeys.

This reminded me that I quite often get asked for recommendations when it comes to London. What to see, what to do, where to eat, which shops to prioritize. So I thought I would present my ideal day in London. It’s not entirely realistic because the public transport and the crowds of people on the street would inevitably slow you down a bit, but if I had London to myself for the day and could usher everyone back into the city at sundown, this is how it would look:

08:00 am

Ideally, I’d be staying in a hotel near a park. I once stayed in the Town Hall Hotel in Bethnal Green and found it to be quite the delight. It was thanks to a bargain on lastminute.com that I managed to stay in such a lush place. On this particular fantasy morning, I would be opening my eyes while nestled in the covers at this hotel. I would then nip out for a run in Victoria Park, a stone’s throw away from Bethnal Green. In fact, where I used to “live”.

09:00 am

Freshly showered, I’d now be ready to set out to find some breakfast. Even if the hotel provided breakfast, I would head to Broadway Market because on my fantasy day it’s a Saturday, which means the market is on. Who can resist the idea of munching on a hog roast sandwich, sipping on a Vietnamese coffee and all the while browsing all the beautiful handmade goods on offer. I would have to take a short break, so after the shopping I’d swing by the Broadway bookshop, scoop up something delicious to read and plonk myself down in L’eau à la bouche for a cup of tea and a power read.

12:00 pm

On days like these I usually stuff myself to the brim and can therefore go without lunch. Fully fuelled up and ready to spend some money, I would walk over to Brick Lane and have a wander around the wonderfully quirky boutiques. Not everything is to my taste there, but the gems I have found have shone on for years.

14:00 pm

Although it’s become a bit of a cliché, I’d at this point head to Oxford Circus and wander into Uniqlo for my basic tees and tights and what have you. Perhaps it’s because I’m half Japanese and, as a result, a wee bit biased, but I find Uniqlo is definitely the best place for basics. Once the sensible shopping is out of the way, I would veer towards Carnaby Street to buy yet another pair of Onitsukas or some yoga wear or something equally nice but unnecessary. Of course, while in this neck of the woods a gander at the goods in Liberty is unavoidable. I just hope to come out with a positive bank balance…being a guilty spender, this is usually no problem for me.

16:00 pm

Time for a coffee. Bar Italia, of course. Soho welcomes all tired London explorers and sends them packed full of energy again. The shops in the area and leading towards Covent Garden are worthy of a whole day’s touring, but alas, I have to squeeze everything into my ideal day.

18:00 pm

Time for a last minute bargain to assuage any guilt I feel for over splurging throughout the day. TK Maxx came to London a few years ago and landed itself on Charing Cross Road. The assumption that Londoners didn’t need to buy Prada, Seven for all mankind and those other wallet bashing brands for a fraction of the price was a pretty misguided one, if you ask me. Since this is a fantasy day, I’m going to say that I found myself a pair of arse enhancing jeans that didn’t even need shortening.

19:00 pm

Not having lunch has its consequences. I need to eat now. Again, this is my ideal day, so all my shopping has been taken off my hands by my boyfriend, who dashed back to the hotel to leave it all in our room while I head to a cocktail bar for a quick aperitif. A Mr Hyde’s No. 3 goes down a treat at Purl. 12 quid for a cocktail is standard when you come from Zürich…but to be cost conscious, I would opt for a pub for dinner afterwards. When in Rome.

20:00 pm

The boyfriend would meet me at a pub my friends introduced me to recently. It’s called the Duke of Wellington and is rather hidden but not far from Marylebone, giving me a chance to walk off the effects of the cocktail. Last time I was there I had a burger with peanut butter in it and beetroot coleslaw with poppy seeds (or something like that). Divine.

22:00 pm

Since this is my fantasy day and I have limitless energy, feeling a bit squiffy by this point, I would drag myself back to East London and grab a night cap on Hoxton Square at Happiness Forgets. Quiet and cosy, just what I need now that I’ve crept past that age where the music clubs in this area were where my high-heeled feet would lead me.

So, if this sounds like a fantastic day out in London to any of you, let me know if you want a travel buddy! I will pounce on any excuse to hop on a plane to London. Helping a stranger do their shopping in London? Standard.

*Just so you know, this blog post is in no way sponsored by the companies to which I link. It is an entry to a competition organised by Visit Britain Shop. The topic appealed to me, so I entered. The content is genuine.

images from here, here, here, here, here, here, here ,here and here

If there’s one thing I know, it’s that I drink like a Brit, not like your average dainty Japanese lady.

There must be some Japanese girls who like to drink just as much as I do, but they all seemed to hide from me when I lived in Japan; I repel them. I have only met a handful of Japanese girls who like to drink and nearly all of them have lived abroad or are in fact still expats. The one I’m most familiar with is my own mother.

Since my mother is a drinker and my father is British, there was no way I was going to grow up to be a non-drinker or a pathetic drinker. I don’t like to encourage irresponsible drinking, so I won’t; I’ll just indulge in it without promoting it.

I have actually calmed down quite a bit since the glory days of Uni came to an end, I only drink when in good company… no, wait, actually, I drink more when in awkward company. Anyway, I think the Swiss drinking culture and the Swiss drink prices (Aside: 10 Francs for 100ml of wine?! It’s a beverage, not a drug!!), are what have brought me back to civilisation.

I do, however, consider myself a heavy weight for my size. People often ask if I get Asian flush or if I have all the right enzymes needed to avoid morphing into a booze-fuelled crazy person.

I would like you to now guess which of the below facts concerning my behaviour when plastered are true or false. Whoever guesses them all correctly shall have a pint on me whenever we may meet.

Exhibit A – I go red in the face like I’ve been dipped in ketchup

Exhibit B – I fight with 10 ft women despite being only 5’3 myself

The hint for this one is in the picture

Exhibit C – The Superhero against binge-drinking often pays me a visit

Exhibit D – I give into the forces of gravity

Realises she is too drunk to walk so gives into the comfort of the floor and continues to drink while people stare in utter horror.

Exhibit E – I might have just once parted ways with a pair of knickers

Exhibit F – I run the risk of looking like this before stumbling into the taxi

If you find out that any of these facts are true, let’s keep it between you and me, ok? The boyfriend doesn’t need to know what he’s getting himself into!

British Bureaucracy. Yes, it’s capitalised. I, Reikalein, hereby declare British Bureaucracy a national anti-treasure.

The Brits are experts at implementing superfluous rules and thus complicating an already defunct system only to inevitably lose grip of the reigns entirely a few months down the line. There are rules and regulations for every possible action you take in the UK and they mostly stem from an obsessive concern with health & safety or political correctness.

My boyfriend went into HSBC to withdraw money after they had failed to deliver his debit card after three weeks. He asked for a receipt and they flat out refused to issue a receipt. Although, apparently he could ask for a balance statement, which essentially fulfills the same function as a receipt. Why be so nit-picky about terms nobody could possibly care any less about, especially when talking to a foreigner? Such attitudes are as petty as the one of the bus-driver who gets a kick out of driving away just as you reach the bus stop after a frenzied sprint down the street from the direction the driver is facing.

Another example of the hoops you have to jump through in the UK to get what you are entitled to is the simple process of requesting a refund on a train ticket. I received two letters to say they had received my complaint and that they would be dealing with the issue as soon as possible. The cheque itself arrived close to a month later. Surely they would have saved time, paper and resources by sending the cheque first, but of course that’s never an option; one must ignore the voice of reason and get the all-important procedure ratified by the president of anal bureaucracy first.

Why do the Brits insist on giving themselves more “procedures” and keep introducing new protocols when they’re clearly having trouble with basic common sense?

I was reminded of the good old days during which I battled idiots sat behind train-ticket counters or a crew of morons working for the T-mobile call-centre on a regular basis when I received this letter:

This letter is a direct result of me just fiddling with the wrong setting on my Student Loans’ Company account. What’s more, it actually strolled into letter box about a month later than the date shown.

Britain, why do you give me reasons to mock you? Why do you insist on pushing the prospect of my ever drifting back to your wonderful shores further and further into the depths of unlikelihood?

With Halloween just around the corner, oh wait, it’s only September…then why does it feel like it’s already winter in Zurich!?

Anyway, with Halloween just around the corner round the corner that is September, I thought I would look back on the fancy dress log from my Uni days for some inspiration.

The obsession the Brits have with fancy dress was a revelation to me when I moved to the UK 5 years ago. Of course, the Japanese are the masters of Cosplay, but that falls under an entirely different category of strange and isn’t practiced in the same manner or in remotely similar contexts.

Given the chance, the Brits would probably make every party they ever organise a fancy dress party. It’s in our blood. So, without further ado, here is a selection of evidence that Britain is inflicted with an unhealthy (but infectiously fun) addiction.

Once or twice a term the Students’ Union invited us to dress up as school girls and boys.

Christmas party to which my friend went as an elf. Note that he is topless.

I’m pretty sure most boys across the country indulged in this theme at least once. Though they may not have all used baby oil like my friends did..

Halloween: Pippi Longstockings, not Chun-li

Halloween the year before. M&M.;

Our C themed party – I apparently thought it would be a good idea to dress as a cow…
Now for the one that’s going to be hard to top in terms of effort invested:

Super hero party! Most of our costumes were self-made. Can someone please organise another super hero costume party asap?

I haven’t dressed up once in Zurich, but, as I mentioned, Halloween is coming up and I have plenty of time to brainstorm and get creating. Any ideas??