I'm writing this on the train to Amsterdam as the countryside soars past us. The blade of the tall wind mills generating electricity remind me of the ride to Minneapolis from Wisconsin but we're far from the Twin Cities now. There is a cheerful, quiet din in the train car but without my headphones in my ears I jump every time another train from the opposite direction passes by at the speed of lightening. There is always an initial sound of a head-on rush as aerodynamics impact with one another although the trains do not.
After traveling more regularly over the past two or three years I've learned it's always better to record your journey as you're taking it. I still regret not journaling my solo Las Vegas trip during the course of it while the bizarre memories were fresh (aside from a few hangovers.) So I've resolved that this time will be different. That being said, what better time to write about this exodus than when I'm zipping through the French countryside headed to Belgium and ultimately beyond that to the Netherlands?
London was almost exactly how I expected it to be, almost to the point of irony. The city was exceptionally well-kept and the infrastructure was clear and effective. Blocky, black cabs buzzed through every vein of the city seemingly with frequency than private cars. Hailing one from almost any point was easy and unfortunately for our pocketbooks we relied on them heavily. At one point we purchased an Oyster card determined to master the renowned underground train system. That plan was quickly usurped by our ignorance when we spent fifty pounds purchasing a week long access to bus and tram only to realize that the tram was not in fact The Tube as we tried to pass through the turn style and failed. Not to be outdone we resolved to take a bus and quickly proceeded to get lost and an add hour to ultimately what was a hike to the British Museum.
The were many men wearing neatly tailored suits that whizzed by not in sports cars but on bicycles were striking to me. Speaking of bicycles, the traffic in London is down right harrowing. Shout out to the fellow I saw languidly peddling down the thoroughfare one hand on the bars, the other ushering food into his mouth. He gave me a look over as a crimson double decker bus roared around him and he continued on unconcerned. Swerving and going around other vehicles of all sorts seems to be a key component of navigating the narrow streets of London-town. Combine this with the fact that they drive on the side of the street that opposes the driving norms of most every other country trying not to get run over takes more conscious effort than usual.
Its typical that the first time you travel a place you do the tourist circuit. You tour the sites and get it all out of the way. Here in Europe that's a little more difficult due to the fact that these legendary cities are teeming, even cobbled, with history. I usually prefer my second visit to a location after I've spent the first familiarizing myself and playing tourist. It's a relief, in a way, to get the admiring of beautiful spots out of the way, pass through the sensory overload and begin to tune into the pulse of the city you're in. Since we've got a full plate this trip I doubt that will happen this venture so it feels like I've been buzzing with confused excitement non-stop since we arrived a week ago so I'll beg you to understand if my current thoughts are fuzzy and slightly sleep deprived.
I bring all that up to say that seeing Big Ben in person and hearing his song was delightful and made my heart happy. Seeing Westminster Abbey and leaving a kiss for the memorial of Lord Byron made me more deeply connected to the human experience. It's nothing short of sobering to stand under arches ten centuries old or to meander over the bones that once escorted great minds. I don't think you can judge a trip like this by one key moment, Maybe I just haven't yet had that moment, or more likely they're all overwhelming wonderful, sometimes solemn and profound minutes that merge into one fantastic experience. Traveling is a greatly existential experience and I'd even argue it's an art form in and of itself. Travel is about touching the Earth like Buddha. It as much about feeling and traveling through the present moment as it is about passing through the halls and monuments built for our use and perusal within an infrastructure far greater than any one person.
I suppose, if I had to choose one of the things I enjoyed most in London it would be dining at Gordon Ramsay's restaurant succinctly titled Ramsay and even more so watching the production of the Phantom of the Opera on the West End. I suppose that's two things. The show is a staple and I can see why. Although I already knew most of it's songs by heart I had never seen the story unfold and I fell deeply in love with it.
Ultimately, London was simultaneously eerily familiar while being nothing at all like the United States. I found myself envious of their infrastructure full of intention and ease. The whole place seemed pervaded by an impenetrable force of dry humor and common sense. At times that was refreshing, other times it felt stuffy and slightly disingenuous. Overall, I really enjoyed my time there. It was a hive of culture, art, and prosperity which the British are rightly quite proud of. I enjoyed spectating their methods in action as much as I enjoyed browsing their art collections and monuments to history, work, legacy and sacrifice. I think America could learn a thing or two from our ritualistic friends across the Pond.
Crossing the Chunnel was a breeze and I'll write more soon about the city I found on the other side. If you want to see video of my travel check out my YouTube channel - Runic Rigel
