First Impressions of London

---

As promised, I'm going to start posting the pieces that I'm writing for class in here. This was my first assignment for my Travel Writing class. I got a B, for Boo and make it Better next time. Bummer.


“Excuse me, miss, but would you please walk on the left-hand side of the corridor to keep the traffic flow consistent?” asked a clerk as I made my way through Heathrow International Airport.

It was those few words that snapped me out of my zombie-like trance and made me realize where I was. London. Not New York or anywhere else in the United States. London. Things are bound to be done a little differently over here. After traveling for a total of thirteen hours between two different flights, I wasn’t thinking much about walking etiquette. But while heading out to catch the Heathrow Express to Paddington Station, I became consciously aware of my American wardrobe and mannerisms and hoped I wouldn’t be a target of ridicule everywhere I go.

Luckily, a nice British man in a trim suit set me at ease when he helped me load my luggage onto the luggage rack once on the train. He was very polite, and asked me interestedly what my plans were for my time here. That was the first thing I noticed, the politeness of the British natives. Even the airport attendant asked me to move in a relaxed tone that said “It’s ok to make mistakes, but let me help you correct it for future reference.”

Whenever I go to a big city for the first time, I can’t help but to compare it to New York, the Mecca of cities in the United States and my home for nine months out of the year. I had traveled to London when I was fourteen years old, but at fourteen the only thing I was interested in comparing was the attractiveness of British boys to American boys. Arriving back in London was really like arriving for the first time all over again.

Stepping out of the cab in front of my building, I was shocked by how clean the sidewalk and street were. I couldn’t see a scrap of litter anywhere, or even a chewed piece of gum plastered to the sidewalk. The pristine nature of London has only become more apparent since my first glance. The parks are well-kept, with the greenery neatly arranged, and I have yet to see spilled food or broken glass on the ground. New York makes me constantly want to wash my hands, because the overflowing trash bins and trace amounts of garbage smells are always present. London is impressively clean for a city of over seven million people. It’s as if Londoners have a sense of pride for their city that they each do their part to keep it fresh.

London is a city comprised of buildings that each seem to depict a little bit of the city’s long history. The building structures and designs are impressive without having to be 102 stories tall. Many are beautifully built and resemble masterpieces created by artists rather than builders. However, it is slightly off-putting to see McDonalds and Kentucky Fried Chicken chain restaurants nestled into these old, historic buildings. The golden arches make the architectural arches less impressive.

The sounds of London have been the most interesting thing I’ve noticed so far. I assumed that all cities would sound the same - noise is noise, after all. But the simplest sounds have made the most lasting impressions on me. Like the gentle hum of the tube as it smoothly travels on its underground tracks. The tube is much more muted than the clanging, ear-piercing cry of the subway trains in New York. The massive, red double-decker buses seem to make less noise than their half-sized American brothers. I can barely hear them approaching, which makes jay-walking both difficult and dangerous. Even the sound of the telephone ring is different, with two short deep chimes instead of one longer ring.

Perhaps the most peculiar sound is the British accent. What I’ve found to be strange about it is how little I’ve actually heard it unless I’m speaking to someone directly. Making my way about the city, I hear a lot of English being spoken, but it’s with the various American accents. I hear American people conversing loudly walking down the streets and on the tube. In crowded restaurants and cafes, the only British accents I hear come from the waiters and baristas. The patrons speak in either foreign languages or, of course, American-English dialects. Maybe there is some hidden code that the British have about when it is appropriate to speak in public and at what volume.
Or maybe I’ve only been venturing to the more tourist-oriented spots around town, and all of these things are only for show to hide the reality of what London has to offer.

---