Hunting for Hugh...

Some important news, I have sorted a place to stay. A room in Kelly's flat has become available and I have signed up. It is a great scheme for travellers - I have paid two weeks rent as bond, and then I don't have to pay rent for another two weeks. Plus, the commitment is only eight weeks to begin with and from then on a week-by-week basis. So, I have somewhere to live that fits my budget for the eight weeks I can survive without a job, and then (because I am totally expecting to get a job) I can work out whether I need to move to another part of London etc etc. Brilliant. Also, it will be nice to live with a friend for those first weird weeks.

So, having sorted that out yesterday, Kelly and I and my soon-to-be-flatmates Jeremy and Karen headed to the Notting Hill Carnivale about noon. The Carnivale is Carribean based, but seems to have segued to South American as well...

The first thing that hit me when we arrived was how gorgeous the houses are, and that all the windows of shops and front porches are boarded up. Apparently, that magic English combination of people and beer has caused some trouble in the past. Everywhere we walked it was the same - it was a really strong reminder that this is a much bigger country with some strange behaviours...

Soon enough we found our first collection of stalls. The Carnivale is set up with food and sound stages clumped together every few blocks. The stalls and music are all quite similar, so it is weirdly repetitive, yet new every few corners. It is a very big neighourhood, and lots of the locals have moved out for the weekend. Others are making a killing charging women £1 for the loo.

The police presence is very obvious. Since that big football disaster when all those people died, police have taken crowd safety really seriously- and it shows. Everywhere we went there were steel and human barriers keeping crowds down and people apart. So, in spite of the masses of people (200,000 in the course of the day) it didn't feel too crowded for the first while.

Kelly and I got in the Carribean mood with Jamacian beer (which was REALLY good) and jerk chicken. The chicken is made spicy with the authentic combination of sweet chilli sauce, ketchup, vinegar and HP. It was very filling, but not particualrly amazing.

Eventually we stumbled across a parade route, and waited a long time in the sun for a really disappointing assortment of lorries with drunk corporate sponsor types displaying their inner-Jamaican. Not pretty. So, we gave up on that and went in search of more beer and food. I found some Rum Punch which made me quite happy, and then we found the good music.... I have finally got the hang of pushing without apologising - without it I am sure I would still be stuck in the crowds this morning.

We ate some more food (fried plantain and rum cake), danced to more music and resisted the many temptations to join in with percussion parades. We finally saw some of the real parade - and the costumes was amazing. Apparently there were some groups that had to be asked to stop bumping and grinding in front of the children... Believe it or not, but in the end it got a bit boring, and the crowds were growing so much it was getting hard to move. Apparently, the night time at Carnivale is both amazing and daunting, so I was happy when Kelly suggested we find a Tube station.

of course, this is England so there is no logic to the transport. The closest Tube station was closed and the other line was down for mainteenance (what good planning that was!) - so we had to walk a looooong and mysterious way to find the best way home.

By the time I'd done that, absorbed all the beer and recovered from the sunshine the propsect of another night's crappy hostel sleep was too much, and Kelly kindly let me crash with her again. We got kebabs (with the obligatory chips), watched telly and crashed by 9pm. Tomorrow I am going to give myself a rest.