London in a Day
12 June 2006
I was picked up eventually by a friend of the family, MrG. Mum had described him as rather conservative, very right wing. A little bit of an overstatement. He was more like an english version of Pauline Hanson. You know.. England for the English, fix problems at home first, then let immigrants in, test all immigrants for diseases, make them learn english, make them get jobs, but ensure everyone has an equal chance, best man for the job, not cheapest man for the job etc.
Funny thing is, alot of english people I met when walking around in London on my first full day there were like that. Alot of them rolled their eyes at “foreigners” who didn’t know how to do things like.. Queue.. or stand to the right on the escalator so that the people rushing could get through. Apparently standing in line for more than 3 minutes was waiting too long. Obviously, I have alot of patience, I didn’t care if I was in line for 3 minutes, I wait up to 10 to get my coffee at work.
It was a hot day, 32C. Well I loved it, and hooned around the tube, and when the tube wasn’t working, on the buses. I got to sit on modernised doubledecker buses. No airconditioning at all on these things, or on the Tube, reminded me of the old perth buses and trains before it became electrified.
MrG did a great job in showing me alot of things, I went to see where my dad was born, and took some pictures of the front door with me in front of it, and then the man who was living there opened the door and we had a chat for a few moments. He had moved into the house after my grandmother had died. How cool. He let us in, and I walked through the house, on the same floor as my dad did when he was a kid, into the same backyard where he played in. Mind you, it wasn’t nice anymore. The garden had died, the ground was cracked and dry due to no rain. However I was finally there.
Then we took the tube into central london and the man sitting opposite me was sweating so much, that water was dripping off his face on to the floor, and there was a huge puddle. I have never seen so many people sweat like that except at the gym after a heavy workout. I made sure that MrG had plenty to drink as we wandered through the city. The biggest irritation was not getting a COLD drink. They were lukewarm. The coldest drink I had was the Carlsberg beer at a pub. Great drop that.
Now for the awesome bit. Getting off the tube at Westminster, coming up the stairs and around the corner and seeing Parliament house, Big Ben and after being totally gobsmacked and looking like a bloody tourist with my camera.. I then noticed the big burly policemen carrying around sub machine guns, the helicopters flying around the central city, and MrG moaning about terrorism, Tony Blair and how evil he was, and how hot he was, and lets go to the London Eye.
Still, one thing I need to say, most people in london don’t smile. They snarl, or avoid looking at you and look away if you try and catch their eye and smile. I started keeping count. Indian women do not talk to white people. I smiled at many and none of them smiled or acknowledged me. That was a bit confronting.
We made it to City Hall, supposedly the house of Dick Whittington. I still have a hard time believing he was real. By this time it was around 3,00pm and I was getting irritated with MrG. All day he had moaned about everything, the tube, the buses, the lack of government control, the anarchy of the system. I saw a Salvadore Dali and Pablo Picasso exhibition, permanently on display and wanted to go in, and he turned around and said to me.. “oh do you have to, why do you want to see that type of thing?”
I got really annoyed. I didn’t want to rush around all morning like he had made me do, just so we could see dad’s old place. He just wanted to get there and then he had said, the rest was up to me. This was something I needed to see. When you live in a small city like perth. Thousand’s of kms from major events, when there is an opportunity to see what is my favourite artist (Dali) why wasn’t I going to use that moment in time, grab it, and say, this is my moment. I could regret it. I turned around to him and said, “There is no guarantee that I could see this again if I come back, it is here right now, you said I could look at what I wanted, and this is something I want to do, right now”. He backed off and told me he’d wait in the cafe. Off he went, and off I went, to have my first almost religious experience with Dali.
After Dali, it was the Eye. Pretty cool, wrapped up in a plastic bubble with MrG looking not very happy, but he hadn’t been on the eye before so it was something new. I got him a hatpin to celebrate. We purchased dinner in Leceister Square. It cost me 75AUD for a hamburger, chips, Fish and chips, 2 cokes and 2 iced coffees *choke*
I can’t describe how it felt to be in London, seeing it with new eyes. Seeing this historical city. Walking through streets I have read about in plays, heard in songs, watched on movies and on the news. Seeing something older than I had not been exposed to. Someone should invent a word to describe it. I am definitely coming back next year.
posted by lori at 10:52 PM
2 Comments:
Hammy said…
It nevers ceases to amaze me how trusting and interesting the English are. In which other country could you travel to from halfway around the world, land on their doorstep, and be invited in for a grand tour of the household? He obviously bought the story that it was where your father grew up but most normal people would turn you away, don’t you think? It must have been a fabulous experience though and I’m betting that you’re glad the old man entertained you with the tour and hospitality.
6:32 AM
lori said…
I guess he bought it because we knew so much about the house, the door knocker that my grandfather put up, he knew a little of my grandmother due to the neighbours around at the time, however they have all passed away. He said something lovely. He said that the house was lucky. That made me smile.