Sweet!

I thought of Speaker' Corner and what's its name park as I savored the chocolate nougat that Yemi gave me. The Mars made in Slough, UK got me thinking of London which Yemi recently visited. Where on earth is Slough, UK? Google tells me it's 22 miles west of Central London. Yemi showed me a picture of Victoria. I remember Victoria, the transit center in Central London. I also remember Victoria, a nurse from West Ghana, Africa which I was reminded of when I first met Yemi. Yemi who is originally from Nigeria is the opposite of what I remember of Sister Vicky, a British passport holder who ruled the operating theater of Muhayl General Hospital in Abha, Assir Region in Saudi Arabia.. Yemi is a clinical mentor and can never be anybody's tormentor like Sister Vicky who once got me summoned to the office of the "modir", Mohammed Ali Khairi.

What's its name park is Hyde Park. I compared Hyde Park to Central Park in NYC in terms of significance. The Central Park could never be as significant and memorable to me as the Speaker's Corner in Hyde Park in London but I could not forget having my picture taken at the Speakers' Corner pretending to be somebody gloriously famous. I never got to see how silly I could have looked in the picture but I have always looked silly and retarded so what else is new? I do have pictures of the making-out corner of Hyde Park. In broad daylight.

The Mars made in Slough, UK brought me memories of the Soho District.  Cousin Marites who has been living in London for the last thirty years has never been to Soho District nor was aware that the area is just two blocks away from her office. Cousin Marites went to mass every night and never missed a novena to the Sacred Heart of Jesus on Fridays when she lived in Kamuning. One day, she got born again.

Cousin Marites did not seem to find the male forms in kamasutra positions that were displayed in the windows of the adult shops interesting. I was savoring every moment exploring the west end of London.  Just like I savored the Mars chocolate bar that Yemi gave me.  Soho District gave me the "it was nice while it lasted feeling".

The memory of imagining my cousin praying over the pervert souls at the Soho District amused me. My cousin's pastor husband had always thought I was a butch and I sort of played to his imagination being the opposite to my cousin who could have joined the Filipino Catholic Women's League of London had she didn't get to be born again. I am sure Cousin Marites would not dare look at a photo I took at the Natural Museum of London. I'd love to ask her about missionary positions. She should know, she's a pastor's wife.



I have seen enough British royalty stories on TV so I was really not that interested about Fuckingham Palace. Maybe I got a little curious seeing Lady Diana's shrine guarded by an Egyptian Sphinx at the basement of Harrods Department Store.

"It's read as East Enders Kebab," Aunt Pauline LOL'ed and corrected me. I may not have been the only first-time visitor who misread the sign.


The East Ender Kebab spelled out my impression about east end of London: spicy and exotic.  I thought of all the holy cows and sacrificial lambs that became Eastenders Kebabs.  They reminded me so much of the  distinct spicy smell of souks in Saudi Arabia. Just like the Mars chocolate bar that Yemi gave me from London, the East Ender Kebab shop replicates a foreign culture that could thrive anywhere in the world. Inshallah, so the Muslims say!