The constant rush in London gets into me all the time. It’s a busy, flowing, sprawling metropolis that never cease to stop despite the time of the day. Other than the zoo activities that happen daily along Oxford Street, the underground is also a source of annoyance to me. Perhaps the stations were built in pre-historic times; platforms zig-zagging against each other, different tunnels leading to a myriad of entrances and exits but none to the platforms that you’re looking for, filth and smell of dampness and decay festering below. And the mad pushing, shoving and steady throngs of faceless strangers that zoom within these claustrophobia only nudges me to fight my way to exits so that I can reach a place of refuge where motion cease to exist. But every now and then, during my instinctive escapade, my ears would pick up a gentle strain of a violin or a furtive dance across the nylon strings…..time stops for me. Someone is playing an instrument somewhere, creating magic with their fingers and their voice for the masses, who probably don’t listen. But for me, my heart will soar with joy. The moments become still…I float out of reality. During those sole moments, I feel like I belong to London. The music connects. It’s just me and the music. That’s why, the next time I see a musician languidly strutting their stuff, I’ll nod and spare them my change.

We are the cafe people!

The job that I got is at a health-food chain restaurant called Leon’s. They have about 8 restaurants all over London. While each branch has a different decor, every one of them shares the same policy of producing good and healthy meals/drinks with loads of passion and sunshine. When I was first interviewed at the branch near London Bridge, I was immediately impressed. They asked me if I’d like coffee while waiting for my turn. A guy named Andra, from Bermuda, gave me an application form and asked me a few questions after I finished it. The interview questions included what the standard ones like availability, experience and some background details. He also wanted to know what will inspire and bring out the best in me. In the end, we talked for a good hour, speaking about food and traveling. I left the place with my face flushed, revitalized and immensely pleased for no apparent reason.

They gave me a four hour trial at Carnaby Street where my task was to help Adita from Poland, to prepare salads. It was fun running around, sprinkling broccoli, rocket salad, cous cous, aquina and yoghurt toppings on some of the salads. 4 hours went by without me noticing it.

Tomorrow will be Leon’s new staff member’s orientation day. Andra called it his Magical Mystery Tour. I like the sound of it. He’ll probably feed us with what it means to be part of Leon’s family.

Didn’t know that there are so many procedures involved in getting a job in a restaurant. It felt more difficult than getting a PR or journalism job in Malaysia, where I usually got hired after one interview!

I was disoriented when I touched my oyster card against the card reader and walked through the gates of Oxford Circus Underground. It was 7.25am and I was on my way to Leon’s for my 4 hour job trial. Andra, the recruitment consultant of Leon’s has arranged it in such a way that if the management in the Carnaby Street Branch likes me, they’ll pay me for the 4 hour trial and then hire me to be one of their team members.

I looked at my worn out and stained Central London map (was duped into buying it by one of the foreign exchange counters guy who changed my Euros into pounds but surprisingly, it proved to be quite useful) and back again at the names of the exits. Should I take the Argyll Street exit or the Regent Street exit? A rosy-cheeked, middle aged man, dressed immaculately in pressed black suit, stopped and called to me, “Do you need any help?”

I told him that I needed to go Carnaby Street. He motioned me to come with him as he’d point me into the direction that I wanted. He asked me if I were Japanese. I shook my head and revealed to him that I was a Malaysian. He was pleasantly surprised and said that he is planning to a trip to Malaysia some time soon. Maybe I could help.

Yeah, why not, I said.

He gave me his business card, wished me luck for my job trial and waved me goodbye.

I turned over the grey card in my hands to see his name.

“Noel Saunders-Managing Director of John Lewis”

Wow.

And I got the job too.

The reason of the breakup has became clearer. We both want the best for each other, and seems like the best thing to do is to let each other go instead of putting each other through a ‘triste’ life. Yet while we’re no longer bounded by the label and its concept, we will still spend hours speaking to look into each other eyes, sharing our daily lives and trying to care for each other in whatever way we can.

Perhaps, that’s for the best; for now.

I still do dream of him every night. I wonder how long will these dreams last.

Someone should pick me up and strangle the wits out of me, because I just got to London a few days ago, but I’m perpetually stuck to my Macbook, emptying out the tissue-box, blowing my running nose every now and then, let my mind wander back to the good times. Deja vu? This is a perfect picture of a woman who just broken up with her boyfriend, in a foreign country. And while there are just theaters, bookshops, markets and museums waiting to be explored, I only crave for company of familiar faces, my mother and perhaps a steaming mug of hot chocolate. I have anticipated the break-up and have brought it up a number of times, but he denied everything and made sure I had a good time in Italy then, slammed the door on my face on my face after that.Ouch. After all the family dinners and childhood friends meet and greet. Which is why honesty sucks. But we knew it was coming.

Perhaps the change is for the better but why the hell do I still feel so lost?