An American in London - Part 1
Trepidation and excitement. The feeling that, under different circumstances, would be mere anxiety. This is the feeling I held for most of the beginning of my journey - as I left my tiny apartment with 40 kilos of baggage I would be tugging along with me for most of my time in England.
At the bus stop - an omen. As the sun blazed hot over my head, I met a guy who was cleaning the glass walls of the stop-shelter. He was Jamaican, and had grown up under the British education system. We had a great conversation about the commercialisation of America and it's affect on children.
On the train - another omen. The lady I sat next to was British, though she lived in New York. She worked for the University system studying airborne diseases. (She assured me I had nothing to worry about with the quality of Britain's air - no Ill Wind there). I asked her what the main feature of difference was between the countries since she had lived in both for a long amount of time. She said that every time she went home now the word "quaint" would cross her mind. I was to see what she meant.
On the plane, I met a married couple who were quite nice - Paul and Sarah Bowser. He - an English guy who loves football and drummers. She - an American bartender with beautiful red hair and wonderful sense of ear accessories. Both were living in Minnesota - a town my friend Carson, who I would be meeting in England, had lived in for a year-and-a-half before going to Russia. We exchanged funny quips and talked of our mutual admiration for musicians like Pink Floyd and jazz drummers.
The flight wore on a bit - difficult to get comfortable enough to have a deep sleep. Unless you're Sarah across the aisle in her window seat with a light-blocking mask on and a spouse's lap to snuggle in. I briefly considered snuggling in the lap of the person next to me, but thought better of it - he looked a bit unsavoury and hadn't said a word to me the whole time. I decided instead to unfold the Delta blanket (which would prove quite useful) and try to doze as best I could.
The movie "Tower Heist" is much funnier without sound.
I briefly took out my camera and tested it. Thought it would be a bit rude to take a picture of my travelling companions while they slept, so I intended to ask them for a picture once we made it to Gatwick.
Gatwick!!! It was much colder here than Atlanta, but it was a bracing cold and not unpleasant in the least. This was helped by the fact that I had blatantly stolen the airline's blanket tied around my neck like a scarf. I began to realise that the back of the right shoe of the pair of walking shoes I had specifically purchased for this trip was beginning to rub a hole in my foot. Also, the weight of the pack on my back was making my left knee which I had dislocated last new years ache. "Ah well", I thought, "Just man-up and bear it, you'll probably not do this again soon."
Something I have noted about the modern architecture of Britain, though I haven't been able to get anyone who knows anything about it to comment on, is that it seems to like curves. I first noticed this in Gerry Anderson's 1960's Thunderbirds marionette-action show, and also in things like the works of 2000 A.D.comic-book artists like Dave Gibbons (working for the Doctor Who 'zine before he did little things like The Watchmen.) Simply put - the edges of corridors, buildings, and transit vehicles prefer to be rounded rather than square. This may seem a non-issue, barely worth noting - but when you have just gotten off an 8 hour flight after little sleep it's all part of a milieu which can be a bit confusing and overwhelming at first.
Anyways, my new companions and I went to baggage claim and waited. And waited, And waited. Eventually, everybody on the whole flight had retrieved their things except for me!. Paul and Sarah bowed out graciously, citing a need to relieve their overfull bladders. They promised they'd meet me on the other side of customs. Alas, I finally retrieved my bag and when I went to look for them I could not find them. A picture opportunity wasted!!! However, I did locate them later on facebook, but I don't think they'll be answering my messages anytime soon - their next port of call involved a safari in Tanzania!
The Great British Customs Questions
They: What are you doing here?
Me: Visiting a band.
They: How long are you staying?
Me: A week.
They: Right. Off you go, then.
End of the Great British Customs Questions
Exiting the airport led me out into a uniformly grey sky. The kind of sky that everyone has always told me is typical for England. It was still cold, but still not unpleasantly so.
Rode the transit monorail to the Gatwick express rail-line - an above-ground train. Most of the above-grounds have about an 8-inch rise between the platform and the train, making the term "Mind the Gap" make sense. I realised I was there early enough that everyone on the train was commuting into London to go to work. Everyone was whispering like it was a funeral. I watched the English countryside go by through the dirty windows. I was fascinated. Suddenly - a sound like a slamming door shook the whole cabin and made me jump. Another train had passed in the opposite direction and the air pressure had rattled the windows. I looked aorund - no one seemed to have noticed. Obviously they were so used to it it didn't faze them. I smiled to myself, feeling that I stuck out like a sore thumb, but nobody seemed to notice.
Watching all the little houses go by was mesmerising. All stuck close together with their chimney stacks and multiple pots. Moss and damp weathering making everything look old. And quaint. (That word!) Suddenly my eyes alighted upon a familiar configuration which shouldn't seem to be there. 2 American flags waved in the distance - they belonged to an American Auto parts store! Ha!
Finally pulled into Victoria Station. This is one of the stations in the system which has connection to London above and London below (for all you Neil Gaiman fans out there!). I traversed some steps and tunnels (seems to be all England is made up of!) until I found my way to the central station. Wow! It wasn't that large - was on two levels. But it was the first large indoor space full of people I had really seen - I was supposed to meet my friend Carson here! How was I to find him? I stood there spinning slowly round until finally Carson magically appeared beside me. I dropped my bags and gave him a hug for being familiar.
Followed him onto the Tube, and to the Swiss Cottage station where we exited and walked to the place we would call home-base for most of the time there. The Palmer Lodge was an old red-brick edifice which had been converted out of an old school. We checked in, but had to store our bags until 2'oclock. It was still very early, so we went and had breakfast at a little cafe around the corner. I had my first full English breakfast. We used the wi-fi on Carson's phone to ring up Edward at his home. He seemed delighted we had made it, and told us that you couldn't do much better than the area we were staying in. This seemed fine. Everything was going pretty much as planned. We wandered around the area a little more and looked at the shops. Finally, 2 'o'clock rolled around and we put our bags in our room - an array of 12 bunk beds, each with their own little curtain, storage bin, and reading lamp. Tremendous! I laid my head down and was fast asleep before you could say Peter Pan. The first leg was over!
My "fixer" and good friend, Carson Walker - in front of the Palmer Lodge.
The entrance into the Palmer Lodge.
Further view of the lovely old Lodge...
To be continued...