Shades of Europe: London - Sparkling in the Gloom
July 4th 2008 19:07
Note to self: When making the 24 hour or so flight from Sydney to Europe, do not go by way of a location which will be deemed unsatisfactory as a place to spend a night by the people paying for your flight. Such was the unhappy circumstance I found myself in when I arrived exhausted by a 14 hour flight in Abu Dhabi, and could not retreat into the blistering heat of the non-air-conditioned world for some unwinding from the stresses of long-haul travel... I was forced to continue my journey with a 7 hour flight (3 hours of waiting in between) to Heathrow International Airport. My foray into the Middle East (I don't think Istanbul counts?) will have to wait a longer while. But I suppose if I was to smoothly hurtle in the general direction of a locale I could expect to be approaching catatonic in, London was not a bad place for that to be.
Why? When a place gets so much currency in international affairs, is seen as a desirable location by people all over the world, boasts a multicultural community to rival that of Sydney's, and you've never been before it all adds up to a pretty enticing mix.
As it turned out, I couldn't see any of England from above - it was all under cloud cover! We circled around Heathrow, waiting for the 7am congestion (I kid you not) to clear up so we could find a stretch of runway all of our own to utilise, for about 20 minutes, driving me just a little bit more batty. When we finally touched down, picked up our belongings, made our way to customs and joined a queue which was the longest I'd ever seen (and I thought Narita earlier this year was bad!), I looked around at the people around me and found myself irate - except for the higher proportion of blacks and Arabian people, I could have been in a queue in the centre of Sydney. Where was the inimitable English style I was simultaneously excited about and wary over witnessing?
I comforted myself that these people would be mostly immigrants coming home from holidays abroad, or nationals of other countries looking to check the place out for a while. After all, I was in the non-EU national section (though technically I could get a Bulgarian passport at any time and be regarded as a member of the European Union), and could hardly expect to be surrounded by the more traditional Brits.
After a wait which was definitely more than 45 minutes, the friendly guy at customs actually reminded me that if I had brought a Bulgarian passport I could work in the UK, a reception I wasn't expecting!
Stuffing my passport back into the pouch around my neck, I officially entered England, and was surprised to see that the crowd was not drastically different from the people waiting in line at customs. England was clearly more multicultural and non-white, than I was expecting! Somehow I managed to get myself to the bus depot, and purchase a ticket to London's Victoria train station, which I could only assume was centrally located. One thing that made an impression was that, while I was supposed to be swapping winter for summer, Heathrow was chillier than the Sydney I had left. This made me glad I had brought polos and warm clothing just in case. I was a bit annoyed, though, and hoped it wasn't going to rain the entire time.
I finally saw two old, white women in the bus, which made me realise that I much preferred the young, coloured people around. They were cheerily bantering with the driver, who had something of a Cockney accent and took it upon himself to scold any driver who violated the road rules through the window. It was just like a scene out of Sydney, but it was not. For one, the driver had a royal blue outfit (uniform?), and seemed conscious of his working class status. For another, while they were speaking merrily, the presence of assumptions by mannerism of speech did not go unnoticed. And thirdly, the accent. I had to remind myself that I was in an English-speaking country. That I was in the country that gave the language its name, that nurtured it for more than a thousand years since it was born, before it became the linguistic staple of the new world.
Before I left I wrote on an envelope (any surface is a canvass for a writer): Most people start out in, or with, England. Yet it is my 20th, 21st or 22nd country to visit (depending on whether you count Libya, my birthplace, where I only spent 7 months, or the Vatican, or not). I have lived in the South-East of Europe for 6 1/2 years, and have indirectly felt the influence of England all my life, perhaps even more so as Bulgaria was never a colony of the crown. I entered the UK with a fascination with all things English, and also a dread of them. This is one of the places where Eurocentricism thrives, where snobbiness is frequent, where pretentiousness can be found daily. Yet it is also the environment that brought me the Sugababes, Robbie Williams (amazing voice), Stephen Fry, Elton John, Oscar Wilde and a whole host of incredibly talented, beautiful and resplendent people. It seemed England was one of the places where it was AT.
For a while on the road there was nothing but greenery, soaking up the speculative graze of rain, then, all of a sudden, little roads with buildings nestled in around them! The houses all looked like they had been designed by the same architect, as part of the same construction, on every block, mostly in earthy, clay-like tones, with perhaps some ornamentation in white. I found this new landscape mesmerising. Then I saw the largest advertisement I had seen in my life. It was for an iPod, and I think the colours were a tropical-looking combination of mango and mauve. It was probably three or four times as big as the flashing Coca Cola ad in Sydney's King's Cross (below), and looked delicious. I'm one of those people that can appreciate a good advertisement and even see the better ones functioning as public art.
So we crept into London about forty minutes later, passing through the posh Kensington district where I would be staying. I loved it - the buildings were kinda uniform, but at the bottom of each was a shop with a glossy, colourful shop sign. It was clean, crisp, a combination of matte and shiny surfaces (the road itself was now a gleaming reflector for what was above), and the atmosphere was very cosmopolitan. There were manifestations of the rampant multiculturalism everywhere - Chinese and Indian restaurants everywhere, all the usual fast food franchises (you know the cliche that there is a Starbucks on ever corner? Well, I was struck by the frequency with which I encountered the company) and a few new ones which were clearly a UK delicacy, like Pret a Manger (I later found out this place mainly sold packaged sandwiches).
Being a vigilant person, I figured out that I was in Kensington through the name places and my delight was kicked up a few notches at the thought of spending a week starting out my day in this place. My first impression of the layout of London was the streets were relatively small, and the traffic that animated them seemed awfully large. Humongous red double-decker buses, and larger than life trucks twisted their way through these delicate major streets, which were less wide than my cul-de-sac in Randwick! It was often that my view of the street was obscured by a large vehicle, an experience I will now associate with London. I twisted my neck to get good views of the iconic red telephone booths, which cheered up the city even more. I had expected it to be a dreary place, but there seemed to be colour everywhere, making the streets a pleasant place to let the eye meander around.
Just before rolling in front of Victoria Station I was treated to a view of the Thames. It seemed anti-climatic - it was such a tiny, shallow-looking river, and how polluted! But the riverfront properties spoke of a highly sought after location, with buildings which diverged from the usual rectangular blocks (any sign of variation is notable in the West, unlike Shanghai, for example).
Getting out at Victoria, I had no patience for discerning bus stops and timetabled schedules, so I caught the first taxi I saw. The interior was unlike any taxi (or vehicle) I'd ever seen and left a strong impression of luxury and comfort, amidst a practical but stylish design. It was all black, had arm-rests and hot pink bars to hold on to. It was modern without being quite punk, and stately without being stifling. Totally worth the 8 pounds or whatever it was that took to get to Barkston Gardens' Merlyn Court Hotel / Bed & Breakfast.
In forty minutes I was ready to go to bed at the fittingly incongruous hour of 9am, so I nestled under the covers and... realised I couldn't sleep.
Should I give it some time, or embrace my wakefulness and discover the world outside? It didn't take me very long to realise that it would be a good idea to take advantage of the day outside, so off I went.
More in Part 2!
For some reason this reminded me of Thailand
Why? When a place gets so much currency in international affairs, is seen as a desirable location by people all over the world, boasts a multicultural community to rival that of Sydney's, and you've never been before it all adds up to a pretty enticing mix.
As it turned out, I couldn't see any of England from above - it was all under cloud cover! We circled around Heathrow, waiting for the 7am congestion (I kid you not) to clear up so we could find a stretch of runway all of our own to utilise, for about 20 minutes, driving me just a little bit more batty. When we finally touched down, picked up our belongings, made our way to customs and joined a queue which was the longest I'd ever seen (and I thought Narita earlier this year was bad!), I looked around at the people around me and found myself irate - except for the higher proportion of blacks and Arabian people, I could have been in a queue in the centre of Sydney. Where was the inimitable English style I was simultaneously excited about and wary over witnessing?
After a wait which was definitely more than 45 minutes, the friendly guy at customs actually reminded me that if I had brought a Bulgarian passport I could work in the UK, a reception I wasn't expecting!
Stuffing my passport back into the pouch around my neck, I officially entered England, and was surprised to see that the crowd was not drastically different from the people waiting in line at customs. England was clearly more multicultural and non-white, than I was expecting! Somehow I managed to get myself to the bus depot, and purchase a ticket to London's Victoria train station, which I could only assume was centrally located. One thing that made an impression was that, while I was supposed to be swapping winter for summer, Heathrow was chillier than the Sydney I had left. This made me glad I had brought polos and warm clothing just in case. I was a bit annoyed, though, and hoped it wasn't going to rain the entire time.
I finally saw two old, white women in the bus, which made me realise that I much preferred the young, coloured people around. They were cheerily bantering with the driver, who had something of a Cockney accent and took it upon himself to scold any driver who violated the road rules through the window. It was just like a scene out of Sydney, but it was not. For one, the driver had a royal blue outfit (uniform?), and seemed conscious of his working class status. For another, while they were speaking merrily, the presence of assumptions by mannerism of speech did not go unnoticed. And thirdly, the accent. I had to remind myself that I was in an English-speaking country. That I was in the country that gave the language its name, that nurtured it for more than a thousand years since it was born, before it became the linguistic staple of the new world.
Before I left I wrote on an envelope (any surface is a canvass for a writer): Most people start out in, or with, England. Yet it is my 20th, 21st or 22nd country to visit (depending on whether you count Libya, my birthplace, where I only spent 7 months, or the Vatican, or not). I have lived in the South-East of Europe for 6 1/2 years, and have indirectly felt the influence of England all my life, perhaps even more so as Bulgaria was never a colony of the crown. I entered the UK with a fascination with all things English, and also a dread of them. This is one of the places where Eurocentricism thrives, where snobbiness is frequent, where pretentiousness can be found daily. Yet it is also the environment that brought me the Sugababes, Robbie Williams (amazing voice), Stephen Fry, Elton John, Oscar Wilde and a whole host of incredibly talented, beautiful and resplendent people. It seemed England was one of the places where it was AT.
For a while on the road there was nothing but greenery, soaking up the speculative graze of rain, then, all of a sudden, little roads with buildings nestled in around them! The houses all looked like they had been designed by the same architect, as part of the same construction, on every block, mostly in earthy, clay-like tones, with perhaps some ornamentation in white. I found this new landscape mesmerising. Then I saw the largest advertisement I had seen in my life. It was for an iPod, and I think the colours were a tropical-looking combination of mango and mauve. It was probably three or four times as big as the flashing Coca Cola ad in Sydney's King's Cross (below), and looked delicious. I'm one of those people that can appreciate a good advertisement and even see the better ones functioning as public art.
So we crept into London about forty minutes later, passing through the posh Kensington district where I would be staying. I loved it - the buildings were kinda uniform, but at the bottom of each was a shop with a glossy, colourful shop sign. It was clean, crisp, a combination of matte and shiny surfaces (the road itself was now a gleaming reflector for what was above), and the atmosphere was very cosmopolitan. There were manifestations of the rampant multiculturalism everywhere - Chinese and Indian restaurants everywhere, all the usual fast food franchises (you know the cliche that there is a Starbucks on ever corner? Well, I was struck by the frequency with which I encountered the company) and a few new ones which were clearly a UK delicacy, like Pret a Manger (I later found out this place mainly sold packaged sandwiches).
Being a vigilant person, I figured out that I was in Kensington through the name places and my delight was kicked up a few notches at the thought of spending a week starting out my day in this place. My first impression of the layout of London was the streets were relatively small, and the traffic that animated them seemed awfully large. Humongous red double-decker buses, and larger than life trucks twisted their way through these delicate major streets, which were less wide than my cul-de-sac in Randwick! It was often that my view of the street was obscured by a large vehicle, an experience I will now associate with London. I twisted my neck to get good views of the iconic red telephone booths, which cheered up the city even more. I had expected it to be a dreary place, but there seemed to be colour everywhere, making the streets a pleasant place to let the eye meander around.
Just before rolling in front of Victoria Station I was treated to a view of the Thames. It seemed anti-climatic - it was such a tiny, shallow-looking river, and how polluted! But the riverfront properties spoke of a highly sought after location, with buildings which diverged from the usual rectangular blocks (any sign of variation is notable in the West, unlike Shanghai, for example).
Getting out at Victoria, I had no patience for discerning bus stops and timetabled schedules, so I caught the first taxi I saw. The interior was unlike any taxi (or vehicle) I'd ever seen and left a strong impression of luxury and comfort, amidst a practical but stylish design. It was all black, had arm-rests and hot pink bars to hold on to. It was modern without being quite punk, and stately without being stifling. Totally worth the 8 pounds or whatever it was that took to get to Barkston Gardens' Merlyn Court Hotel / Bed & Breakfast.
In forty minutes I was ready to go to bed at the fittingly incongruous hour of 9am, so I nestled under the covers and... realised I couldn't sleep.
Should I give it some time, or embrace my wakefulness and discover the world outside? It didn't take me very long to realise that it would be a good idea to take advantage of the day outside, so off I went.
More in Part 2!
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Comment by RubySoho
Music Zone
Thought Zone
Comment by Morgan Bell
Deep Pencil
Current Business News
Movie Train
Artist Quirk
i will live vicariously through you too . . . ive never travelled anywhere!
Comment by postmoderncritic
Postmodern Critic
Daily Inspirations
Relativity Watch
Padsoc
Morgan - Oh, Morgan, I really recommend it! It's so enriching, and you find out things about your culture that you couldn't have learnt any other way... Just find someone to go with since you don't sound like you like travelling alone, and don't let those doubts dissuade you from your journey!
Comment by Morgan Bell
Deep Pencil
Current Business News
Movie Train
Artist Quirk
Comment by postmoderncritic
Postmodern Critic
Daily Inspirations
Relativity Watch
Padsoc
I forgot to tell you about a very interesting part of my journey - being surrounded by (good-looking) women in the following uniform:
First of all, the uniform is gray, a colour that represents ambiguity (the anti-thesis to black and white), then you have a light, transparent stripe of a scarf held in place at the top of the head by a beret - a symbolic meeting of Middle Eastern and European influences which earns its place in the pomo 'East meets West' files.
I would recommend Etihad Airlines, not just for the uniforms but because the planes come equipped with mood lighting (it comes from above the luggage compartment and gingerly salutes the aircraft with hues of violet, blue, pink and orange, constantly changing into one another!). This sumptuous lighting doesn't infiltrate into a bland off-white cabin either - the seats and walls are a coral peach colour (in fact the economy class is called the Coral Class) which is very soothing and conveys a feeling of luxury. Not only that, there was the faintest representation of a starfish on the front walls of each section.
Etihad's entertainment package was also one of the best I've ever seen, with complete music albums for you to listen to - I bopped along to the latest releases from Madonna, J-Lo, t.A.T.u, Rob Thomas, Celine Dion, Justin Timberlake, Ashlee Simpson and the Sugababes. And this was just in the Western Pop & Rock music section... there was a wide range of audio options - you could even listen to the Quran! Moving onto the video section, CNN anchors specifically mentioned Etihad when introducing CNN segments such as 'Art of Life' and 'Business Traveller', and there were almost 100 movies to choose from, including award-winning Indonesian films, hearty French films, the latest Bollywood flicks, Chinese epics, Arabian movies, old classics such as Casablanca and 'Some Like It Hot' and the Hollywood blockbusters which were just out of the cinemas such as Vantage Point and The Other Boleyn Girl.
Also, I didn't need a seatbelt extension, as I did with Japan Airways, which was nice - no need to draw attention to my waistline's rebellion against the seating arrangements, no matter how politely such a request is always attended to.
Comment by Mountain Fog
Infognito
anyhoo, lucky deviless that you are!!
Love the descriptions, and look forward to reading more.
The sole extent of my travles was to Papua New Guinea, when I was 12, with my family.
An amazing trip, but, oh so long ago now, I never got my act together to travel, I was an idiot, and now, it is beyond my reach....
I never once thought I would remain in my own country, having always, since early childhood, wanted to live in far away exotic places.
Well, I, (and all of us) can watch docos, and movies, one of my faves was Mary Poppins, (the book was written by an Aussie woman too!) and dream of what once was, and could have been....
going to lay my weary sad head down now.. sniff..
cheers.. vicariously so... sigh..
fog
Comment by The Travelling Fairy Dancer
Travel Magic
I loved Stradford-upon-Avon, mainly as a performance of Othello by the Royal Shakespeare Company was one of the best things I've ever seen. Did you see a performance?
Comment by postmoderncritic
Postmodern Critic
Daily Inspirations
Relativity Watch
Padsoc
Well, Fog, you're never too old to start travelling - go out and make those 'exotic' destinations a home away from home... No excuses!
In fact, if I become a travel agent in the near future (I had my second interview today) I will let you know about the best deals you can take advantage of.
Dancer - Yeah, I avoid Lufthansa... the service isn't that great, and the inside of the plane often looks pretty bad.
I would have loved to catch a performance in S-u-A, but I only had a day there. I opted for two plays in Shakespeare's Globe Theatre in London instead (A Midsummer Night's Dream and King Lear, both were fantastic).