When I look through old i.d. photos of my mother, aunts and grandmothers collecting dust in shoe boxes from a time in Iran where hiding in the basement after hearing air raid sirens was normal life for a while, I am fascinated with their black, plain roosaris, the Farsi word for hijab.

Though Los Angeles has a sizable enough Iranian and Pan-Muslim population, you won’t find people wearing the hijab as easily as you will in London, either a condition of leaving behind the symptoms of oppressive regimes, the California heat or other personal reasons. Or maybe I’m not looking hard enough, since the layout of  my pedestrian-challenged hometown, with its freeways and wideness doesn’t allow for too much interaction with as many people as I’d like.

Whatever reason these particular women have for wearing a hijab and despite opinion and legislation against this expression, it is interesting to see not only the inter-mingling of the world’s cultures on the streets of this city but how the women who choose to wear the hijab, and make it fashionable – a far cry from the hijab wearing of my mother’s day.

Here are a few iPhone portraits I managed to take, mostly walking on Oxford street.

A few links:

Hijab Style, the UK’s first style guide for Muslim women.

We Love Hijab, advice on how to wear a hijab, haute hijabi couture and more.

What It’s Like Without the Muslim Headscarf, a personal blog post by Egyptian science journalist Nadia El-Awady, who also reported on the recent Egyptian Revolution.

Why I Do – Or Don’t Wear the Hijab, an interesting video report from Radio Free Europe/ Radio Liberty with interviews from women from a variety of countries:

All photos © writepudding.com

When I traveled to London, Dublin and Paris earlier this year, taking photos of people actually reading newspapers became sort of an obsession for me. As a young journalist who was thrust out of school a little over three years ago into a melting media market that bled jobs daily, life became uncertain and depressing and well, worrisome.

I felt as though the dreams I had been building upon since middle school of becoming a writer were falling through the cracks – and that I would never get them back. I never could be a Nicholas Kristof of the New York Times, writing about worldly problems and changing the world in the process. I could never be a Ben Badikian, an editor at the Washington Post who came into possession of The Pentagon Papers. I would never be in that atmosphere. That excitement, that time.

I could never write for the Los Angeles Times or Atlantic Monthly or the dozen other publications which I cherished more than life itself.

And while now, I have resolved my fear and am more in the “I can” rather than the “I can’t” box, the possibility of not fulfilling my passions is still a frightening concept. I know I have what it takes to write for the L.A. Times and the NY Times and whatever else. I just know it. It’s the one thing in my life that I am completely, 100 percent sure of. When I get there, I don’t know. But I will get there.

In the meantime, I found comfort knowing that there were still people who actually read newspapers, even if it was overseas. There are papers everywhere you go in London. On the tube, in cafes, on the street – it’s really a reading culture, and as someone from Los Angeles which suffers more from a “tv culture,” it made me feel at home.

The world of media is changing right in front of our eyes and it’s amazing to be in the middle of this revolution. I am excited to see what the future holds for journalism, but for now, I revel in the fact that somewhere in the world, someone cares.

London’s Sagar restaurant offers authentic Indian cuisine that will in many ways, make you feel you could be just minutes away from the Taj Mahal, while also managing to make your mouth water. The entire menu is also vegetarian, which is great for someone like me or a nice change of pace from meat drenched menus of other restaurants. Sagar, meaning “sea” in Hindi, is located nearby Tottenham Court Road, although they also have a branch in Hammersmith. It is one of the only restaurants in London to serve Udupi cuisine, which is the world renowned cuisine of South India. It’s not particularly flashy or overwhelming, but manages to stay simple while combining traditional and modern elements, all the way down to the decor of wooden tables with brass statues that grace the walls.

Although we were hungry, we had one appetizer to share, which was probably a good decision, considering the size of the dish. Unfortunately, I was so excited about the food, I forgot about looking at the menu to see what exactly it was that I had eaten, so I could keep it for future reference. I must point out that this forgetful trait I have during moments of awesome food, clothes, shoes or otherwise happens often. I’m going to say that it was more or less like a falafel, only it tasted much better. It was a great combination of different beans and vegetables and the deep fried shell made it tread into heaven territory. It also came with a fabulous coconut chutney that I could have drank on its own.

We both ordered dosa dishes, with some kind of vegetable concoction inside, I believe mine was aloo (potato) masala. It doesn’t really matter that I can’t remember, but all you need to know is that it was delicious. It came with that amazing coconut chutney and we ordered some cucumber yogurt on the side.

That yogurt came in handy because my dosa was especially spicy. The server warned me before he took my order but I thought it would be easy to handle. Note: Watching Bollywood does not make you immune to hot Indian spices. Trust me, I learned the hard way.

As you can see by our dishes above, we enjoyed the food (and the drinks!) very much. The food was great, the service was good, but there was something that we couldn’t put our fingers on that kept us from being able to fully enjoy Sagar that cold Saturday night in London. I guess the only way to describe it was the atmosphere. To the left of us we had a group of about six hip and trendy 20-somethings, who by the way, couldn’t all arrive at the same time, so every 20 minutes or so, one would show up and greet the others before sitting down. This didn’t help the fact that all the tables were EXTREMELY close to each other. If they were any closer, I would have been able to see other people’s nose hairs. That group was nothing compared to the over zealous and obnoxious German tourists who insisted not only on talking loudly and putting a plate they weren’t using on our table when we weren’t looking, but standing up and taking professional photos with a camera that probably cost well over $700. Needless to say that it was annoying and as I pointed out in my last post about Akari, the atmosphere of a restaurant is at times perhaps a bigger deal than the food.

Sagar
17a Percy Street
London
W1T 1DU
020 7631 3319

Smart restauranteurs always know there is more to opening an eatery than just the food. In an age where those simple moments where you’re able to breathe and (gasp) relax are coveted, the atmosphere of where you do the most sacred of daily tasks – eat, is so important.  Japanese restaurant Akari,located in the London borough of Islington, is the type of place where you can breathe.

Its inconspicuous location, low lighting and friendly wait staff make you feel like you’re a world away from the hustle and bustle of the city outside.

When you walk into Akari, the first thing you notice are their homey, rustic wooden tables and how the patrons at them are completely involved in their own conversations enough to not even look up when the servers put food down. I told you this place is relaxing – filled with enough talk to mask the sound of silence, but not enough to mask the talk at your own table.

When we arrived, it looked like most of the tables had been reserved for different parties. We inquired if they had room, and they graciously opened up a reserved table for us, as the other party wasn’t expected until about two hours later.

After the staple order of edamame and two glasses of pomegranate tea, which I have to say, was so delicious, it was time for some food.

Cue in the vegetable rolls and deliciously warm Udon buckwheat noodle soup. As you can (kind of) see below through the lens of my iPhone camera, the rolls are put together so delicately. The seaweed was so fresh and soft and the shape of the roll made it perfect for dipping into some soy sauce. The soup came with its own little saucer full of spices that you could mix in the bowl to your heart’s content. At first, I didn’t mix it well enough, so I got a mouthful of spices that needed to be washed down IMMEDIATELY before I choked.

After the Udon completely warmed our souls, it was time for dessert.

I wish I could remember the name of this heavenly concoction above, but it slips my mind. It was like a sticky soy pudding, with a delicious glaze on top. I have to admit that I couldn’t finish this dessert, which is a rare occurrence for the likes of me, but it got a little too rich by the end.

We capped off the night with some traditional green tea. If you noticed a difference between this last photo and the ones before, it’s because we were so involved in the ambiance of the place, that we didn’t even remember that we had an actual camera with us until the very end. Akari restaurant gets high marks on all fronts: it is a charming, authentic Japanese restaurant with great food, good service and an atmosphere that’s missing from a lot of restaurants. By the time you get up to go home, you’ll realize you’ve spent about two to three hours there. You probably will be well-fed and happy enough to not care.

Price: Quite reasonable. Except to pay around £25-30, obviously more if you decide to indulge in the extensive drink menu.

Interesting tidbit: Akari’s location was formerly occupied by a pub named Three Brewers.

Akari Restaurant
196 Essex Rd
London, N1 8LZ, United Kingdom
+44 20 72269943

Los Angeles is a raw town. It’s an open wound. It can chew you up and spit you out or put you in its lap and pat you on the back all in a matter of weeks or even days. There is no rhythm to this sprawling city of concrete jungles and imported palm trees. There’s only one thing you can be sure of: traffic.

It’s unique in its ways, which is probably part of the reason why people either love it or hate it. I have not yet met anyone who has ever had lukewarm feelings about L.A. It’s always “L.A is just amazing!” or “I don’t care how amazing it is, I will never spend that much time in a car.” I understand, believe me I do. I ponder that thought on a daily basis.

If by some fluke, my parents hadn’t decided to move to Los Angeles, I would have probably hated it too. But then again, it was either L.A or staying in a post-revolution Iran. I will thank my lucky stars that they chose the former.

Either way, L.A does not have a rhythm. It’s more random than rhythm, that’s for sure. Because of Hollywood, because of the eclectic nature of industries and jobs, there is no beginning and end to a day spent here. There is no “I’ll be there on time,” or “I will be home for dinner.” There is no day of rest, no pity from the blazing sun, there is no certainty.

Los Angeles doesn’t operate like other cities. Especially not like the city of London. In London, everything is defined by a rhythm. Tube arrives on time, please mind the gap, you will be at your destination of choice. This is as certain as the fact that it will be an overcast day. Tea time at 4 p.m. , overcrowded bars after 5 p.m., Gems TV rebroadcast from 7 to 9 p.m. (don’t ask),  stores closed by  9 p.m., The Evening Standard being sold in tube stations,  in bed by  midnight to do it all over again.

It’s nice to have that feeling of security.

Do not misunderstand me.  Because of my attachments to the City of Angels, I could never really insult her and I secretly cringe when someone does. It’s just that living in Los Angeles makes you feel that sometimes, the rest of the world does not exist. You gain a sense of entitlement and think there must be few places in the world as good as this. This place where you have everything available to you at the drop of a hat. It’s amazing how there is an entire world out there that’s just waiting for you to explore.

London is the only place other than Los Angeles that I have actually wanted to live. I mean, really live. When I was younger, I dreamt about moving to New York and though I’ve been there a handful of times, it never really felt like “home” to me. Unless it was somewhere like Brooklyn or Long Island, I couldn’t imagine myself living that entangled in a metropolitan city. This is probably a reason why I have never had the urge to move somewhere in Los Angeles like West Hollywood or the up and coming neighborhoods of Downtown.

London feels different. Maybe that’s because my boyfriend lives there and it already feels familiar, maybe it’s the people, the food, the neighborhoods, but after a week there, I had gotten so comfortable with it that when I thought of the idea of getting in my car to drive to work (gasp) I really felt nauseous.

The thought of arriving somewhere in less than 15 minutes and usually on time is astounding, especially to a native Los Angeleno. Public transportation is an awe and enigma to me. After a one week taste, I am thoroughly enamored by it.

When I first got to London, with all its quaint architecture, funny pub names and narrow streets, it looked like a set that belonged in Disneyland. I thought any minute now the view in the distance would be just a backdrop when I got closer. But the view didn’t fade, and the dainty black cabs whizzed by, right after the red double decker buses slowly made their way down the avenues.

With its long list of street markets, ability to get many places on foot and general rhythm, you are constantly exposed to people all day long. This is a far cry from life in Los Angeles, where even at work I interact with people through instant messenger when they are sitting right next to me and the extent of my involvement I have with people doesn’t come any closer than the bumper in front of me on the freeway.

It’s expensive and crowded, yes, but it is so much more. Do you know how amazing it is to see and interact with  people from other countries? But Los Angeles is one of the most diverse places in the U.S you say. Yes, this is true, but do you know how exciting it it to see people who say they are German who are ACTUALLY from Germany? Or to hear people speak Polish and Greek and Nigerian? It is absolutely thrilling for me to see young people whose native languages are not English, who have not been jaded and swept up in Western fever to the point where they are no different from teenagers in the U.S. It’s pretty damn exciting, let me tell you.

London has a heart beat. A big blood red heartbeat. We were walking in Covent Garden Market on my last day there when I saw a man with a guitar in the middle of the market singing a beautiful rendition of one of my favorite songs, “Wild World” by Cat Stevens. At that moment, no other song sounded appropriate and excuse the pun, but it really struck a chord in me. Yes,  It’s hard to get by just upon a smile. There’s a lot of bad and we should be aware. But to see new places, to not take opportunities and risk, to not see what else is out there would be a disservice to yourself. As I boarded the plane out of Heathrow, dreading a 10 hour flight home, my insides tangling up at the thought of it being months before I see him again, there was a Mark Twain quote that I remembered.

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

It’s true.

In the Notting Hill district of the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea in London, lies a curious path called Portobello Road which leads to a visual feast of a market featuring antiques, vintage clothing, innovative designs and more food than you’ll know what to do with. Oh, the food.

Mark my words: This is not something to be missed.

When you begin making your way to the market, it becomes painfully obvious that the majority of people who are walking with you ( and believe me, there are a lot of people) are tourists from Germany, Spain, Italy, Poland and Japan, among other places. This little fact might put a damper on your mood. It put one on mine, but I recovered quickly enough to sing “Is this the way to Portobello” in my head to the tune of “Is this is the way to Amarillo” sung by Tony Christie.

When you do get there, apart from the fact that you have to navigate through bodies to keep moving or get a good look at those vintage shoes you’ve been eyeing from afar, the crowd becomes secondary to all that you have laid out in front of you.

Of course, the first thing you’ll notice is the food. There’s so much of it and such variety, you wont know where to look. You’ll probably be regretting the fact that you had the audacity to eat breakfast before making your way to Portobello, rendering you unable to consume the delightful delicacies on the road once known was Green’s Lane.

Savoury quiches, mouth-watering donuts, fresh and glistening fruit. Paella to whet your appetite, Nutella crepes you wont be able to resist. You’ll almost forget that there’s more to Portobello than the food. Oh but there is. There is.

Vintage fashion from all corners of the world seem to use Portobello Market as a sort of dumping ground – but not in a bad way. There is something for everyone here, from shoes, scarves, costume jewelry, coats and hats. If recycled fashion isn’t your thing, rest assured there are plenty of stalls displaying the newest trends and local designs.

You can even buy knick knacks for your projects in a variety of sizes and shapes.

The above stalls are very dangerous because of the temptation they present. As I am currently working on developing self-control around food, I didn’t indulge in these delicacies, but you should definitely be my guest.

If you get weary during your journey through Portobello, there are a multitude of places to sit and eat. Grab some authentic Mexican cuisine or just a cappucino or latte at Santo, perhaps. Of course, there is no shortage of food on the street, so a bite on-the-go works just as well.

As always, the most important aspect of visiting anywhere, whether its Portobello Market or another such locale, is being there with someone you love.

This time next week, I’ll be in foggy London town. Yes that’s right, I’ll be walking in Oxford street, probably needing an umbrella and drinking copious amounts of tea. Well, more than I do now anyway. In many ways London feels like a second home to me. My boyfriend is there, which is the primary reason for my impromptu visit, and I have a great affinity for British culture too. This time around, it’s a bit more exciting as two of my friends from school are also there.

On my last trip to London, I had an amazing time – the city feels light years ahead of the U.S., even ahead of Los Angeles and New York, especially where fashion is concerned. I felt so under dressed. In London, most of the women look hip and happening. They wear high riding boots, with beautiful crafted jeans, velvet plum blazers and fashion forward accessories. With tousled hair tied loosely back, a cup of tea or coffee in their hands and their ridiculously expensive bags that I covet, they look fabulous.

The men aren’t far behind where fashion is concerned, but the most amazing thing that I found endearing about the people of London is the fact that they all carry newspapers. It was like a journalist’s dream come true, at least in 2005 any way. Londoners valued their print back then and I’m hoping that fact stays more or less true this time around.

Perhaps the most amazing part of my trip was Portobello Market, an outdoor swap meet with treasures you wouldn’t find anywhere in the U.S. That’s not to say that we don’t have great swap meets too, in fact some of the best are located right here in L.A., but the atmosphere of Portobello is something else!

Places to go:

• A Clockwork Orange screening – British Film Institute
• Darwin Big Idea Big Exhibition – Natural History Museum
• St. Patrick’s Day Festival and Parade – Trafalgar Square
• Shah Abbas, The Remaking of Iran – British Museum
• Sing-a-Long-a Sound of Music – Prince Charles Cinema
• The Art of the Poster – London Transport Museum
• London Word Festival – Stock Newington International Airport

Places to eat:

• Hakkasan – Soho
• Wolseley – Piccadilly
• Sagar – Tottenham Court Road
• Food for Thought
• Saf Restaurant & Bar
• Lola Rojo - Fulham

Places to shop:

• Fortnum and Mason
• Beyond Retro
• Muswell Hill Bookshop
• Lollipop
• Primark

Since London is such a hop, skip and a jump away from France, I hope we find time to spend a day in Paris. If that happens, rest assured I will be going to the Cafe de Deux Moulins from my favorite film of all time, Amelie. Vive le France!