London Herein So Far

I apologize for the lack of updates. Wireless internet alludes me in this lovely, drippy land; though my roommate and I are plotting to converge our finances and remedy the situation with a router.

Regardless, this experience has been enlightening, though is has just begun. Let us begin by dispelling a few erroneous stereotypes which disfigure its glorious form, much like the blanket of clouds that swathes its physical personage.

London is not smelly, smoggy or in any way unclean. After stepping through the smartly sliding glass doors from the airport, I steeled myself for the vicious olfactory onslaught which normally assaults me on the filthy streets of any American city.

I inhaled…crisp, fresh. Clean. Like home. Exactly like home.

There have been only two instances in which any offensive odours have struck my nostrils with their terrible hammers. There is one section of stairs leading to and from the underground platform which I take to university where there is a rotten, putrid scent. Either someone vomits there every morning, or it’s haunted be some foul smelling spectre. The only other occasion where the city befouled itself was when it rained. I suppose the water itself was of a poor nature, but I’ve no doubt it pulled the fumes and so forth from the roofs and gutters, giving them new life. It could’ve been, also, that Berwick Avenue is simply repulsive to the nose in and by itself.

Oh and what rain it was! Rain such I haven’t seen back home in years. Which touches upon another interesting note, how most individuals in London- unsurprisingly, and even some of my peers from California- more surprisingly, are not aware that Southern California can indeed receive fluffy, white snow. I simply smile wryly at the gripes and moaning of the cold and dour weather. This is like home for me, as my father reports that fog is already beginning to embank the house and overcast skies are increasing in frequency. I digress.

London is not impersonal or rude. On the contrary, I’ve found that asking for help or talking randomly to local carries no ill will from the other party. Like in all large cities, the denizens thereof tend to keep to themselves for sake of safety and sanity. Londoners and the British are simply quite and introverted towards strangers, much like myself unlike my ostentatious attire. Londoners are quiet when left alone, but are more than happy to speak to you once contact has been made.

London is not rushed or hectic. Unlike major American cities such as San Francisco, London has all the pace and dignity of a well oiled machine, a clock which strikes and chimes as it has for a millennia; much like the clock tower in which Big Ben sleeps. The fact of the matter is that Europe, and of course London, is old. They have traditions, buildings, monuments that make the cities and streets of America seem as grains of dust. It is busy, it is bustley, but it has a sense of control, of order. Beyond the overwhelming vastness of Euston Station, I’ve never felt lost, scared or alone; even in the instances where I was lost and alone.

In short, America needs to slow the fuck down.

The Tube/Underground. The tube is not nearly as bad as it is made out to be. It is quick, it is quiet and it is efficient.

The tea here is excellent, naturally, the best black tea I’ve ever had, brewed right in my home. Houses, fridges, cabinets, waterclosets- everything really, is all so very small. And being a small person, this is delightful. There is no shower in my house, only a bath, which speaks to me of another manner in which the speed of the city is tempered with the necessity of tradition and those old things that breath in the richness of the ages.

The architecture is breathtaking. There is more dignity in the stoop to my home than any flat in the confines of Lancaster, California. It is magnificent, with graceful arches, baroque curls, relief, rococo- it’s all magnificent.

There are some unsavoury things about the U.K., or London in the least. Londoners seem to judge passing persons far more on the character of their attire, not so much on manner of their physique. Wearing my knee high boots, plentiful pinstripes and fishnets galore, I’ve garnered many a scrutinizing glance and awkward gaze. Supposedly Camden Town is far more accepting of such vestments, but I’ve yet to set foot on the actual street there, merely slipped by silent in the early morning hours or late at night beneath the sleeping beast within the tube, or ambled around the underground station trying to find my way to school, bleary eyed and confused.

Unsurprisingly, London is expensive. £1.50 for a side of chips in the pub, £3.75 for a nice tart from a darling café. Last night my roommate and I threw out £18.89 for dinner at an Indian Restaurant a block from our house. It was no Mali’s price or portion wise, but the flavour was excellent. A hefty price for a large city is no surprise, though.

London is the first city I have felt any measure of love towards in my entire life. Having spent most of my life in a rural and small city environment, I shun most metropolitan areas for all their faults, the smog, the smell, the lack of green, the drab buildings and the hip and hurrah over nothing. London is different. London is patient, London is kind, London is one of the most environmentally conscious cities in the world. It is old, beautiful and majestic. It has been the seat of power and renound the world over.

This is a city I would love to live in for years.

Maybe one day, I will.

Now I must be off to figure out how to buy Franz Ferdinand concert tickets through a UK site. Tricky business…

More tales a more specific colour to follow.

Cheers!