Published: 02/19/2009
LONDON – Cloudy skies and misty weather. Rows of green trees in Kensington Gardens. Fish and chips rivaling Ivar’s. Music from The Clash to The Rolling Stones. Drinking songs on the subway and pitchers the size of buckets. If you’re from the Northwest, London is a place you could grow to love.
Stepping off our airport train at Victoria Station, I was immediately struck by comparisons to the Seattle area. From the brisk weather to seagulls circling the River Thames, the place felt just like home.
I came to London to see the tourist sights, dine on authentic fish and chips and take a Beatles picture at Abbey Road. I found a nostalgic similarity to the Northwest, mixed within an ancient city that is constantly evolving.
Beyond the familiar sites of Tower Bridge and Big Ben, I was fortunate to discover a side to London that could never be seen through the windows of a double-decker tour bus. Friendly locals, fresh blood brought to the city by immigrants, and centuries of proud history are pooled to create something fresh, but still distinctly British.
Walking to our hostel in Westminster, we passed tourists photographing smartly dressed guards at Buckingham Palace. It was immediately clear that seeing London’s famed sites was easy – they were everywhere you looked.
Discovering the heart of London took a more Sherlock Holmes-worthy investigation.
Meeting up with a friend-of-a-friend who was studying there, I found myself at The Court. Stepping into the pub to a greeting of careening rock 'n’ roll, rowdy patrons and enormous pitchers, I felt like I was back at The Coug, but with an unmistakably English twist. Not to mention the cheapest beer on tap was Stella Artois, a far cry from Busch Light.
After a few drinks and a happy birthday sing-along with some locals on the subway (“Tube” if you’re a Brit), we returned to our hostel and met the night’s roommate, a Sudanese student – further evidence of the far-reaching migration London has attracted.
The next day was spent among the tourist masses, wandering Trafalgar square, seeing the Rosetta Stone, Egyptian Mummies and other history at the British Museum. We passed St. Paul’s Cathedral, Shakespeare’s Globe Theater and crossed the Tower Bridge to a foreboding castle – the Tower of London.
But that night I was once again reminded that London is a town much more complex than mere postcard sights.
Beginning our Valentine’s night under the lights of Big Ben was amusing, but drinking Newcastle Ale on the steps of Buckingham Palace and serenading the Queen was much more fitting. And testament to London’s rogue style, passersby regarded our antics outside their monarch’s home as nothing out of the ordinary.
Directed by a friend who had spent time in London, Sunday morning was spent in Church. Not one filled with scripture but a weekly congregation of London locals – young and old – looking for fulfillment of an entirely different kind.
Sundays at noon near Camden Town, The Church (www.thechurch.co.uk) is a raucous combination of a bar, comedy show, music, burlesque dancers and all types of merriment. A gathering of locals and visitors from around Europe, it reinforced London’s style of reckless abandon, but somehow mixed it with a classically British refinement, while still putting every fraternity party to shame.
The night’s new roommate: a man from Peru looking for work, more evidence of the city’s renewal.
I saw Big Ben, Parliament, St. Paul’s and Buckingham Palace. I got my picture crossing Abbey Road. But I also saw a London that’s hidden beneath its famous surface. A city full of unmistakable parallels to home, but also one that is constantly evolving, all the while effortlessly maintaining its proudly distinct British character.
Next Week: Morocco...
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