People talk about falling in love all the time. They talk about the way your heart leaps, the way that it flutters in your chest and the gut wrenching leap of excitement when you are given a surprise, albeit wonderful, moment of unexpected joy. They talk about smiling all the time, the feeling of supreme contentment that fills you to the top until all you want is to sit and watch the world go by.
Twice in my life before now I have felt that rush, that thrill, of love. The first time was with a boy a long time ago. The second time was with San Francisco. And now, now it is London.
Okay, so I literally just wrote a love letter about London. That's weird. Well, that's me.
In all seriousness, though. I fell in love with San Francisco a long time ago. I just enjoyed it, walking around, being surrounded by the most fascinating people from all over the world. If for one moment I believed that I could make a life for myself in San Francisco, I would be back there in a heartbeat, searching for a house in the Nopa area, going for runs in Golden Gate Park, skipping rocks on Baker Beach. But San Francisco and I were never meant to be. And weirdly, it wasn't even about the money. Sure, it was expensive, but I worked hard enough and I was focused and careful enough, so I was fine. For one moment in my life, I wasn't concerned about money. But for the love of all that is holy, I hated the people. Not the everyday people walking past me, I loved them, irrationally. I loved their stupid hair and their ridiculous clothing and their weird accents and bad smells because it meant that I was in San Francisco. I loved them in the way that you love an ugly dog who bites when it's scared but cuddles you the rest of the time. You love it because, on some level, deep down, it loves you too.
Well, I didn't expect to fall in love with London. Not really. I liked it well enough on my first trip, when I went to Kensington Palace and snapped photos of it from the open top of a tour bus. But really, that was a view from the outside looking in. It was like looking at a painting and admiring the landscape. How lovely, you think, as you pause to gaze at it and acknowledge the work that went into it, and then you move on to the next painting in the exhibit, and you don't think much about each painting, you just let the overall effect of the thing rush over you. Well, that was my first trip.
But then I went back. This time I went with a friend, and this time I didn't take a bus tour, or wind up sick as a dog on my third day. I also stayed in a much nicer hotel. Don't get me wrong, the first hotel was nice enough, but for what I paid? Maybe not as nice as it could have been.
We stayed in Earl's Court, very near to the tube station. It took a moment of remembering San Francisco and New York to get a hang of the underground, but once I'd figured it out it was cake. The first day we arrived we settled into the hotel and set up our happy little Christmas tree. Then we hit the shops. Of course: London? That means shopping, right? Well, it was raining and we weren't familiar with the area so there was a lot of wandering and admiring of the Christmas decorations and not a whole lot of actual shopping. We did get to see Hamley's and Selfridges, even if we didn't really buy anything.
Then unfortunately when we started the second day we were both pretty exhausted, so it was a fairly lazy day. None of the museums we were hoping to see were open and the Botanical Gardens were booked until kingdom come, so it was just off to Buckingham Palace where we got to see the tail end of the changing of the guards. We were going to walk to Kensington from there (where did I get the idea that THAT was feasible??) but then this sort of downpour happened. I don't think my friend appreciated it as much as I did. To him it was just rain, whatever, get out of it for the worst of it, then move on.
But I was fascinated. We were walking through Green Park when it started drizzling, and by the time we's reached Hyde Park Corner it was pouring. I mean, it was a proper downpour. Only, this was in London, so it was sideways. My rain coat is only a short length, so I wanted to get out of it. We made for a War Memorial, heads ducked against the onslaught, so I didn't immediately see what was inside.
For one thing, there was a war memorial inside, truly amazing with beautiful sculptures of soldiers standing on a plinth beneath an open sky. Okay, there's one problem about what was inside, it turned out not to be fully covered. There were pillars and a bit of a roof, but it was open in the middle, so not much against sideways rain, but it was good enough for a moment. It was also freezing inside. Unfortunately, it wasn't just the rain that was against us, but the air itself was frigid.
But there were also people inside. The whole place was packed with other people sheltering from the storm, and in that weird way that we sometimes find ourselves connected to total strangers, here was this group of people from all over the world all sheltering together in a war memorial of all things. And everyone was looking around, in awe of this mighty weather, of the extreme power of torrential rain, not only to soak you to the bone in icy water, but also to bring people together.
Of course, it was also a problem, because there wasn't much space for us to stand and anyway, it seemed silly to expect it to stop when the rain was predicted for the whole week. So we waited out the worst of it and then soldiered out into the downpour again. It took about two minutes more of walking to have me soaked to the skin from the waist down, and about a minute after that before the rain completely stopped. Of course.
The next few days were still good fun. We briefly saw a christmas market, shopped on Oxford Street some more, rode the tubes, ate at a pub. Twice.
Christmas was good fun. Once we got past the fact that everything was shut and nearly all the tours were booked for the day, we started making plans. Even the tubes were closed! We had to call for a car, which cost £25 one way. Still, we went on a walking tour that went to several of Charles Dickens' most popular locations all while learning about his life and writing. It was interesting, if freezing cold and a bit dull. Then we went back to the hotel and had christmas tea at our hotel restaurant, which was surprisingly good, although the poor woman working didn't know what a yorkshire pudding was and referred to it as "a little pie," which was a bit misleading.
On boxing day we were misinformed that the Natural History Museum would be opened, so we decided to go there. I was crushed when it was closed, but we decided to go to Sherlock Holmes instead. Then on the way there we decided to swing by Kings Cross and see Platform 9 3/4. So long story short on that front, London basically closes from Christmas Eve until the day after Boxing Day, because even the train station was closed. Sherlock Holmes wasn't, though, so we went in that direction only to find a line as long as the street which wasn't moving. Instead we went and spent tons of money on silly souvenirs and wandered down to Westminster where I bought a gargoyle and named him Watson. He's on my bedside table looking so adorable I can hardly handle it.
After that we went on a Jack the Ripper walking tour which was sufficiently creepy, and much less cold than Charles Dickens, since I came prepared in layered stockings, four jumpers under my coat, earmuffs, a hat, and a tightly tied scarf.
That was basically the end of the London Adventure, to be honest. My friend left for the airport around six-thirty in the morning and I went back to bed until ten. Then I packed my bags and checked out with my eyes set on Natural History Museum and the Victoria and Albert. I waited in line for NHM for about half an hour, but it was worth it in the end, although I missed the dinosaurs because the room was so claustrophobic and the line ridiculously long. I knew if I waited I wouldn't get to see any of V&A, so I skipped it.
V&A was lovely, though I was so tired at that point that I was getting confused about what was where. After about thirty minutes of aimlessly wandering I realized I hadn't eaten anything other than a handful of christmas candy, so I headed for the dining room and decided to have tea. TEA. In the V&A. Earl Grey tea and a raisin scone with cream and strawberry jam. It was delicious in the way that I could actually feel my coronaries constricting. I felt so proper, sitting at my table reading my pamphlet and having my tea. While I was walking it to the table after ordering, a woman pulled her daughter out of my way and said, "look out for the nice lady with her tea" and I just couldn't help but smile at the idea of having tea at the V&A.
Once I'd had something to eat, it was a bit easier to figure out how to maneuver the rooms and exhibits. I can't decide if the Ironworks, the stained glass, the pond, or the ancient history room was my favorite. I think probably the pond, which I cannot explain, but I'll post my flicker account once I've uploaded photos so you can see it.
The weird thing is, after all this, I hadn't actually done all that much in London. Still, as I climbed onto the bus I knew that sudden and gut wrenching feeling, like I was being taken away from a lover. There's no real way to describe it other than to say that somehow, somewhere in the day to day goings-on of my vacation, I fell in love with London. I could see myself in a few years sitting at a Costa and writing or standing on a tube, fighting my way through the doors to the exit with the quiet background chime warning me to "mind the gap." Of course, I won't, because in the same way that I know San Francisco and I aren't meant to be, I know that London and I aren't meant to be either. This year is wonderful and I wouldn't change a thing. If I had the option to relive this last year, I wouldn't do anything different. But I can't stand being so far from my friends and family, from California and San Francisco and redwood trees. So as much as I love London, it is more of a winter fling than a deep abiding love. I'll always remember my times in London with fondness, of the Globe Theatre and Oxford Street and walking tours. I'll look back in fondness, but I will never regret leaving it either.
Anyway, I think that is about all there is to say on the subject of London. I have several other blogs queued, so keep checking back. I'll post when my flicker account is up and running with a link, so you can see all my lovely travel photos so far (spoiler: there aren't that many, since google+ apparently decided that it wouldn't actually upload any of them despite autobackup, and my phone crashed, so half my photos are just gone).
Until next time, my fearless followers!
