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Published: April 14th 2008
Welcome Home My Dear Convict Son
It felt as though I’d just spent nine hours in time machine when I emerged from the plane. I was pretty sure that I arrived in London significantly before leaving New York, and as I was still operating on Tacoma time my internal clock was telling me that the sun really ought not to be up at midnight. I hadn’t slept on the plane of course; who can fall asleep when your body is telling you that it’s 10am? I was obviously quite grumpy, but I was holding myself together just long enough to get to my hostel and fall asleep.
Heathrow airport was doing what I can only assume is it’s usual thing, slowly filling with annoyed travelers and piles on unsorted baggage, the line at immigration was about an hour long. Initially confused by the innumerable different lines, eventually herded correctly, scrutinised repeatedly by CCTV, lined patiently, and finally I was next in line to immigrate. “This should be easy, I’m not doing anything wrong, I don’t intend to work, I have a plane flight out of the country, I’ll walk right through”.
The official looked nice enough, if this
were China I would have been happy to have been processed by the young, good looking woman rather than the cranky old man in the next booth. This, however, was not China. She looked at me, looked at my passport, looked at my passport some more, flicked through my passport even more, examined every visa in there (is it a crime to have a lot of visas? I thought it was the other way round) and then looked me in the eye.
“Why have you come to the UK?”
“On a holiday”
“How long will you be here?”
“Till May”
“Can you prove that?”
“Yes, I have a plane ticket”
“Show me”
“It’s an E-ticket”
Well now, this is where it got depressing. Apparently, despite all of the technology that they do have available, UK immigration has no way of getting ticket information from airlines. I thought that would have been an obvious first step to stopping illegal immigration. I mean, really, is it too much to expect that UK officials know what British Airways is doing? What is the point of an E-ticket other than not having to have a physical ticket? I didn’t say any of
Tower Bridge
Remember the bridge that a US entrepeneur tried to buy but accidentally got London Bridge instead?this to her, but it all crossed my mind.
She continued asking me difficult questions such as how I was paying for my obviously elongated holiday. She didn’t believe me when I told her that I had received an inheritance. My bank statement wasn’t dated (how a bank can do that is beyond me), my other financial statements were out of date (well, they only get sent to me once a year, they can’t be any more up to date), and she simply didn’t believe that I had any money. She seriously suggested that I may have spent every single penny that I had last year, all $100,000 worth of them! She asked about my cash supply and didn’t believe me when I said that it was in my main luggage under the plane (even when I suggested that if I lost my luggage the cash in there would be a trifling problem compared to my lack of other belongings), she asked about credit cards and bank cards, she asked me about everything she could think of.
This was all quite baffling to me as for once in my life I was crossing a border without any intention
Westminster Before The Queen
When I first visited the cathedral it was closed off by the police. . . what could have been going on? of lying, deceiving, working or anything else untoward, and yet this was the first time that I’d been grilled to such an extent. She told me that as a “clearly well traveled individual” I ought to know what to expect. Of course, she hasn’t ever traveled, otherwise she’d know that nowhere else in the world is so anal about onward tickets. This was all getting out of hand and I was just about ready to suggest to her that I didn’t want to enter her country anyway because it was full of uptight idiots with no sense of the world around them, when she came out with the single greatest line I’ve ever heard:
“You see, we get a lot of Australians….. many nationalities actually…. who come here to work illegally.”
Racism aside, and forgetting the fact that being young and well traveled is a good thing, not a sin, I was still fuming. I very nearly came out and suggested to her that, as a fully qualified engineer, if I ever wanted to do a days work I would do it legally because I would be able to earn four times her salary without any effort. Why
Assembled Crowd
Waiting to see who was going to come out of the Cathedral. would I ever consider illegally working for £5 an hour? That simply wouldn’t make sense. Of course, she wouldn’t have believed me as I wasn’t carrying around my university degree signed in triplicate by the joint heads of the UN.
Nevertheless, she let me into the country because, and I quote, “we’re really busy today so I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt”. After thirty minutes of being yelled at and having my entire life story written into their computer to be cross-checked if I ever try to return to the UK, they let me through anyway. For the next week I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to live in a country that encouraged such stupidity, but then I met all of the Australians here and I understand their concern. Next time I will travel with my uni degree.
Old London Town
I won’t bother trying to explain all of the things that I’ve seen in London for it is truly packed full of interesting places to see. Beyond the usual attractions, the Tower of London, the Tate Modern, Big Ben, Westminster, Buckingham Palace, the endless museums, galleries, parks, public spaces, squares, circuses, old
Double-Decker Buses
They don't tell you that sitting int the front seats on top is actually a scary experience. You keep thinking that the bus is getting far too close to cars, walls, buildings, signs and pedestrians. buildings, and who knows what else, London is just an exciting place to be. Walking the streets, in between countless old places, famous buildings, street names you recognise from Monopoly (in Australia we use the English board), you really do feel like you’re somewhere special, or ancient. There is so much history packed into everything here that everything seems unique. Every now and then you’ll pass a sign saying “so-and-so, the famous something-or-other lived near here in 1420” or something to that extent.
As an example, on my very first walk on my very first day, I managed to walk past a pub named by Charles Dickens, a museum holding the Rosetta Stone, a church which was twice as old as my country, a train station (or two) hidden underneath a cathedral larger than any building I’d ever seen before, and a collection of old houses which were only holding themselves up by their cumulative expanse (literally 20 houses all connected). Also, everything here exudes a definite English-ness, something indescribable but definitely English. It’s to do with the zig-zag road markings, the street signs, the colours, the fonts, the clothes (English people are obsessed with black, stockings, short skirts
Parliament
The Parliament of the United Kingdom with the iconic bell tower where Big Ben sits (I haven't actually heard Big Ben though. . . I might have to do that sometime.) and high-heels) and many other things, all of which add together to make every single street scene look like a scene from “The Bill”.
I’ve spent many days wandering aimlessly around the streets of Central London as it’s impossible to get lost and so ridiculously small that I can never believe how much is packed into it. From my second hostel which sits on the edge of Kensington Gardens I could walk for hours around Westminster without ever walking the same street twice, without ever getting bored, and without ever being more than twenty minutes away from my room. And this is without even going into any of the interesting places!
I do love being in London, wandering around, enjoying the feel of the place, but it has a couple of small flaws which unfortunately render it unlivable. Principally, the food here is rubbish. Unless you are a rich man and can afford very nice restaurants the quality of food is quite terrible. Of course there are exceptions, but these take some finding, and more often than not I find myself gravitating to a pub because it’s the only place where I can guarantee myself a decent meal
Surprise Nothingness
After seeing the Queen I wandered aimlessly down a street, into a museum courtyard, through an arch, and suddenly found myself standing in the middle of a parade ground. That pretty well sums up what London is like. without paying in arms or legs. However, across the board, everything in England is expensive. Even the simplest meals of substandard quality can cost more than £10 if you aren’t careful. Even when you are careful it’s hard to find a tasty meal for less than a five. The only solution that I’ve been able to find is to utilise free breakfasts at hostels (which are rubbish but free) and eat sandwiches from Sainsburys (a supermarket) for lunch every day. Thanks to this plan I’ve been able to eat two meals a day for £3 which leaves me the rest of my budget to splurge on a real meal for dinner. As a voracious eater I simply can’t live this way for very long, I need my good food, I need to eat big and delicious meals all day long, and I simply can’t do that here. Of course, I could cook for myself, but if you’ve seen some of the kitchens in the hostels here you’d have second thoughts about that as well.
If the food were good here, and the prices reasonable, then I would love to live here. But even if I had a proper job
Still Life
This is one of the guards who isn't allowed to move. Well. . . based on my evidence he is. and earned a lot of money, I still think that I would have to live a substandard lifestyle, it really is that expensive here. I need my luxuries, I need to be able to afford to do what I want, I need a place which is reasonable, so I simply can’t live here right now. With that said, I’m still having a blast here as a tourist so long as I know that I’ll be leaving.
I Met The Queen of England
On my second morning I headed out early to properly see London for the first time. I took the tube (oh the tube, I love it almost as much as I love double-decker buses) to Picadilly Circus and began wandering around Westminster. Wandering here and there, down this street and that, past a hundred different monuments which I eventually had to stop reading the plaques of for lack of time. Despite the rain, for London was hit by some nasty storms upon my arrival (nasty as in “oh English people are soft” rather than anything a tropical boy like myself would be scared of), I managed to find my way down to Trafalgar Square and
the National Portrait Gallery.
The gallery served as respite from the weather, but it also turned out to be a magnificent gallery. Not so much for the quality of the art, but for the history I learned there as I walked slowly among the portraits and synopses of the kings, queens, nobles, and infidels of English history. Starting with the first of the Tudor Kings and working my way along to Queen Victoria I spent hours enthralled by what I read and saw. Holbein’s Henry VIII, William Shakespear and countless other paintings which I had seen before in books and on TV now hung in front of me.
I left the gallery for lunch, vowing to return another day (I had only seen one of the three floors), and after a quick pub lunch, my first as it was, I walked southwards down Whitehall. Suddenly I was amongst stately buildings of white stone. They immediately gave off a presence of importance, expense and nobility; this was where the government has presided for centuries. Surrounded by so many beautiful buildings I actually managed to completely miss Number 10 Downing Street (I saw it on my way back later in
Out of Place
What is that doing behind that? the day), it was just another one of a hundred great places.
Coming to the end of the road, and somewhat unawares, I came across the houses of Parliament and Big Ben, the iconic bell atop the clock tower. Across the road stood Westminster Cathedral, across the river was the London Eye, and all about me was history. Suddenly I felt like I was in the middle of something amazing and, as I found out later on, the weather had driven away the usual hordes of tourists so I was very much alone.
I walked around in amazement until I found myself gravitating towards the entrance of Westminster Cathedral. Something about that grand old building was captivating me; it’s rather bland exterior tempted the idea that whatever was inside must truly be incredible, the dulled stained glass windows hinted at the beauty they would reveal when viewed the other way around, and the stately towers seemed infinitely more marvellous when I remembered how long ago they were built. So, drawn onwards, I headed across to the Cathedral and there I met the Queen of England.
Well. . . things are rarely that simple, particularly when a Queen
Random Monument
There are so many sculptures, monuments, dedicated gardens, plaques, memorials, and other such things scattered about London that I can hardly remember what they are all for. This one was for a war of some description, maybe Crimea. It's things like this that make London cool. is involved, and I owe you an explanation. Let it be known though that I did in fact meet her. Well ok, maybe “meet” is a bt extreme, but she saw me and waved, and I waved back.
The entrance to the Cathedral was strangely shut off by some police, perhaps it was no longer open to the public I thought. Saddened, but not unhappy, I walked around to the front of the building and realised that the police had really shut the whole place off. I couldn’t even walk on that side of the road! Instead I headed across the road and joined a group of people standing on a small grassed rise who were all anxiously watching the entrance to the Cathedral. I had no idea what was going on but as I had little else to do I joined the masses and waited patiently. I noticed that the police and some armed military people were positioned around the place, and a distinctly maroon Rolls Royce was parked right outside the entrance. Something was going to happen, I knew it.
Slowly things happened; guards rearranged, police checked things out, traffic was diverted; everything seemed poised to
See What I Mean
This annonymous monument was practically next to the last one I showed you, there are literally thousands of them. I even managed to find a gigantic monument to the Freemasons somewhere. happen and then, like a cascade of noise, the Cathedral bells started to toll. Quickly rolling down whole octaves, running each note quickly into the next, just like at a wedding, the song chimed out across the city. Some minutes later, the bells still ringing, a collection of dignitaries arranged themselves in two lines by the entrance, and finally, from within, the Queen herself emerged and walked between the lines to her car. With almost abrupt indifference she was inside the car and driving off, the whole affair had lasted little more than ten seconds between her appearing and disappearing respectively.
Her car pulled out of the lot, turned right, and then to my extreme pleasure drove right past the assembled group where I was standing. From her window she began her regal wave, I could see her clearly, her likeness identical to her TV appearances and the backside of all my coins yet somehow she seemed distinctively different, more real if you will. Between her and I there was nothing more than four meters of empty air, as close as a man like I could ever hope to be.
I know that most people out there don’t
Monument to Albert
Looking towards the Prince Albert gate of Kensington Gardens, beyond which sits the Royal Albert Concert Hall. consider the Queen to be anything special, after all she’s just another person, and I’m not even particularly Royalist. However, the whole event struck a chord within me, it was a special moment. No matter what I thought about her, she is my Queen, she rules me, she has ultimate power over me if she ever chose to use it. To see someone with that very personal power, and to know what she could do, and yet to somehow feel that she was a nice, well meaning and compassionate woman really made me feel happy with the world.
Lunch and Dinner With Ben
As an example of a typical day in London, let me quickly tell you of just one such day. I had arranged to meet my friend Ben at lunch time, we hadn’t seen each other since Beijing back in the middle of last year, and I was quite excited about the prospects of catching up on all things new. We were meeting at his favourite pub, the Jack Horner, on Tottenham Court Road (which so happens to be a miniature Hong Kong of electronics markets).
The Jack Horner is what I would call
a “traditional English pub”. Not because it’s old and built the way English pubs were traditionally built, but because it’s like what most people in England would go to drink at. It’s full of wood: wooden bar, wood poles supporting the roof (or pretending to), wooden tables and chairs, wooden walls and a wooden roof. The place is a dark brown colour but is still brightly lit through the windows thanks to a brief moment of sunshine cheating its way through the snowy clouds. In the corner sits a pokie machine.
Behind the bar a buxom young woman dressed all in black, but with overly bleached blonde hair which was probably fairly blonde to begin with, pours nothing but pints of ale from the old hand-pull type taps. When you ask for a beer you don’t need to specify the size, it’s going to be a pint anyway. The tables have a food menu filled with coded English titles like “Bubble and Squeak” and “Yorkshire Pudd”, a full page lists the different meat pie slices available, Fish and Chips is not a single item but has a number of incarnations, and the back page is reserved for describing eight
Albert Himself
There is a lot of gold around this area isn't there? So many monuments, a great big concert hall (quite a famous one too), a bunch of museums, and it's all dedicated to a man who wasn't even King! different ales from one single brewery, not because they only serve beers from one brewery but because they’ve only dedicated one page to the exercise. The doors to the toilets are little more than four and a half feet tall, the football news is playing on a loop, and everyone is using the pub as a community meeting center rather than as an alcoholics’ reception ward for the nearby hospital.
Ben arrives, we sit down to a London Pride (beer) and a pie of random description, served with proper chips like they do in Australia. I feel at home, I relax into things, and Ben and I pick up our conversation precisely where it left off eight months earlier in Beijing.
Our quick lunch meeting somehow turned into an afternoon which eventually became an evening, as often happens with mates. Finally we made a move to meet Ben’s sister at another pub, this one a subterranean lair of twisting stairs and sunken vaults; the sort of place you’d expect to see in the next Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Slowly I start to understand the English lifestyle.
We wandered for a while around Leicester Square, right in
Tower of London
The ancient castle around which new London was formed (that means the version after the romans left) and where multitudinous intrigues occured. the heart of modern London (the fun part, not the business part) enjoying the warmish weather and the thriving masses of people out doing their thing. In a city which has everything you are never lost for ideas but are instead stuck with increasingly difficult choices.
The night ends with a Chinese dinner near China town, not because it’s very English, but because Ben and I are in reunion mode. After asking a bewildered waiter where all their Chinese food was (what was on display in the window was anything but Chinese), I actually asked him in Chinese that is, he directed us down another road until we finally found a restaurant which looked relatively Chinese but came nowhere near to the real thing in terms of taste. I believe this is mainly due to a lack of MSG, fresh produce, and talented chefs.
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Scott
non-member comment
Hey, have you organised a Monopoly pub crawl yet? One drink from every street on the board with photo's of each drink should do it :)