here is London

[rm]

One of the funny things about not just living in, but growing up in, New York, is that it leaves you never wanting to visit any place just because it's in the movies. In New York, your life is the movies, and the movies get it wrong. Which isn't to say, by the way, that I haven't had my share of pop culture pilgrimages. After all, I went to Australia because Baz Luhrmann was once a whore and so was I.

But somehow, in spite of my moth life (short and about light from sources other than myself) in Sydney, the fact that this UK thing was going to be a big, emotional deal to me sort of escaped my notice until we were landing and I had "500 Miles" blasting on the cheap, tinny headphones Delta provided.

I almost started crying. Of course, that could also have been the not enough sleep, not enough food, and the oh-my-god-we're-going-to-die turbulence on the flight. Granted, I'm a big wimp about commercial air travel and the steward was probably just pissed at all the people who weren't following directions but "it is absolutely imperative you remain in your seats with your seat belts fastened for your own safety while we get through this" is not a reassuring message to broadcast over the PA system.

We took an endless Tube ride, most of it with a lovely puppy who was going home with his new human for the first time. He (the dog) had these blue, translucent eyes that reminded both Patty and I of Glenn Quinn.

Then we finally got to our destination, found the hotel and discovered it was waaaaaaaaaaaay to early to check in. So we left our luggage with the hotel and in hopes of some food and possibly a Citibank so I could get my financial situation straightened out, we decided to roam.

Whatever direction I had, had about Must Find Citibank Now had evaporated, and it's a beautiful unseasonably warm day here and I didn't want to get back in the tube to head to Canary Wharf (the only sure location of a Citibank I know about here), so instead we walked down to the Tower of London, accidentally detouring into the City at one point, which meant I started monologuing on men's suits (even here, I look at some of these men and I think I know more than you and it feels wicked and sly. And my god, there are some bold! pinstripes here. It's fabulous, makes me proud) and we had to keep checking our maps.

Two fellows stopped and asked "are you girls all right?" and somehow exhaustion makes me friendlier and fresher. "Oh, we don't even have enough of a plan to be lost, but thank you," I said and we all laughed and chatted for a moment.

I kept making us stop in places I thought had gluten-free things and then turned out not to: Starbucks, Pret, Eat. And, to be frank, I was getting a little discouraged, but then there was the Tower to see and high school boys in blazers with velvet collars and some fool working in the Tower had pointed a pair of crap speakers out one of the windows and was blasting some shit music.

We sat for a while to plan and then Patty said she felt sure that we could walk around to the other side of the Tower to head back to our hotel area that way and we'd get food on the way. Somehow, this brilliant plan lead to the most brilliant discovery (also Patty) EVER, which was St. Katherine's Market, where I bought three types of gluten-free fudge (including coconut ice) and had a delicious lunch of Sicilian-style friend risotto balls with hot pepper chutney and Patty had an amazing sandwich. The whole thing came to under 20 quid and we ate sitting by some big beautiful boats and having a number of fabulous chats with salespeople.

Now, we're in our room, which is simple and spartan but has beautiful light. Patty's asleep. The empty refrigerator is BEGGING me to find a grocery shop and get us some stuff, and church bells are ringing.

Everything here is a memory of lives not mine. Some, the lies of my upbringing; others the stories that infect my life and sometimes make it feel as if I am living it out of order. -- I shouldn't have ever even heard of Cardiff, and yet it matters so fucking much that I"m going there on Monday. More than that, how in the hell has Patty wound up spending 12 weeks there and nodding at me solemnly when I tell her this or that thing looks like a Dalek.

"You don't even like Doctor Who," I tell her.

"I've seen photos," she says, and then points out all the Doctor Who articles in the newspaper. The ubiquity, no matter how well explained to me, surprises me.

I saw a non-Tardis old wooden blue police box that was out somewhere for historical purposes, and I wonder what neighborhood Ianto would have lived in when working at Torchwood One. Meanwhile, discussions of a day trip always seem to lead to conversations about the architecture of Oxford University and His Dark Materials and its Jordan College. I may be a lot of things, but one hit wonder isn't among them. And yes, we do know Harry Potter was filmed there.

This -- the UK, London, and certainly Cardiff -- it turns out, is a place I very much want to have like me. I want it to put its hand on the small of my back and smile down at me and really see me, which may be why I'm such a chatty over-sharer with the folks at the fairs.

The thing is, they -- and so their city -- do see me. It's all celiac disease and air travel and ooooo, New York, which I guess they've seen in the movies themselves.

And I think, the UK likes me because this is hard, because I lost my stupid cash card on the way here, because my out of order relationship with this place is the first thing in ten years that's made me want to keep a diary in a leatherbound journal that no one can see because I don't know how to tell you how any of this feels without waving my hand and shrugging it off and saying tee-hee, when, trust me, there's absolutely no goddamn tee-hee about it.

When we went down to the river, I squinted across is and wondered about the end of the world. When we got on the tube, the first thing I did was crack some joke about V for Vendetta and then shut the hell up as we sped by a cluttered playground way out back in zone 5. Yeah, my fandom knows why the kids rattled me.

But all that aside, it's a bit weak, being an American anglophile. It's expected and boring. But I can't remember a time when I wasn't supposed to be here. This was home, that's what I learned from laying daffodils at the Shakespeare statue in Central Park for Miss Hew on Founder's Day before we all went back to our little red brick building in our two little lines and ate that awful pineapple cake and listened to the story about the British girls and the War and the boarding thing -- again. Without ever having visited this is where I learnt to spell. And to cry, and I feel like I should apologize for that, not to you, but to the whole country.

The view from our room is crap, but the light makes up for a lot. And London really sees me, and I've almost stopped worrying about how I look.

Patty's still asleep, but I've got me some groceries to find.

Comments

[azurelunatic]

I cried when I flew into San Francisco for the second but not the last time. I was half out of my mind with a deathly cold, and the only thing I could think of when I saw the hills was Spock's commentary from Ishmael that he knew those hills, but it was impossible. So I, exhausted and in no wise sure that I was going to survive the crud in my lungs, cried for a homecoming that I wasn't sure that I could own.

I'm living here now, and I still haven't written the poem to describe what all that means to me, but the land and the sea have laid their claim on my body and blood.

(Which is to say, yeah. I think I have a kinship with that feeling.)

[elisi]

Aw, I ♥ this post liek whoa!

I'm a Scandinavian, transplanted to England, and I too grew up with all this Englishness (Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Kipling), and although I lived three years in London (and a lot of the time it was dirty and expensive and dull) it was still London! (Now I live in sunny Yorkshire, which is nice, but duller...)

Must run (husband taking me to the theatre), but just wanted to comment on this:

The ubiquity, no matter how well explained to me, surprises me.
It's one of the things I love about it - the fact that DW is part of the *culture*, that a New Doctor is a national event, that *everyone* knows what a TARDIS (and a Dalek) is, that new episodes are what the children discuss in the playground... *hugs show*

[pin-drop.livejournal.com]

even here, I look at some of these men and I think I know more than you and it feels wicked and sly.

This made me giggle and I know exactly what you mean.

Glad you're having such a blast. Hope Cardiff is likewise awesome.

[firefly124.livejournal.com]

I didn't want to get back in the tube to head to Canary Wharf (the only sure location of a Citibank I know about here)

Something about that made me shudder, though I'm hard-pressed to explain in any rational manner why that should be.

Yeah, my fandom knows why the kids rattled me.

Oh yes.

I'm glad that, missing cash card and gluten hassles aside, it sounds like your trip is off to a good start. I look forward to hearing about it all, especially Cardiff. Which, speaking of taking things out of order ...

I shouldn't have ever even heard of Cardiff,

Yeah, that's occurred to me a handful of times lately. But for DW/TW, I wouldn't know it exists. The last time we went to the UK, we skipped Wales completely, because neither of us had any particular reason to want to see any of it. Now it's my ideal graduation trip, never mind that it'll be a horrible time of year to go (Dec/Jan), and I'm coming up with excuses to venture into other areas of Wales as well, not to mention butchering attempting to learn at least the basics of the language. Weird.

[eumelia.livejournal.com]

Wow, this post.
This sentence:
This -- the UK, London, and certainly Cardiff -- it turns out, is a place I very much want to have like me. I want it to put its hand on the small of my back and smile down at me and really see me,
I felt that way when I was in Dublin :)
I'm really looking forward to the next time I'm in the UK, the last time I was in 2007 and I wasn't into Doctor Who back then... *sigh*

As a person who plans on fucking off from my hell-hole for a while, Ireland and/or the UK are places I feel I could be me.

[stresskitten.livejournal.com]

Without ever having visited this is where I learnt to spell. And to cry, and I feel like I should apologize for that, not to you, but to the whole country.

The view from our room is crap, but the light makes up for a lot. And London really sees me, and I've almost stopped worrying about how I look.

Welcome. And yes, like that, exactly.

[cleverthylacine]

I felt like that in Tokyo.

[vashtan.livejournal.com]

Welcome to London. I work here, so I sometimes just want to ignore the Old Smoke and curl up in my study. :)

[paragraphs.livejournal.com]

It has hold of you now. I am already planning when when when, when can I get back? The more we walked around and experienced the city, talked with people, found things we liked and were drawn back to, the more my imagination flew. I came back (from both London and Cardiff--which after spending lots of time there now, has its own kind of grip on me and nothing to do with Doctor Who/Torchwood either) refreshed and filled up with ideas.

We failed to see the Tower this time but no matter, we'll be back.

That flight though? Sorry to hear about your bad flight. My own was uneventful, thank goodness.

[delchi.livejournal.com]

To say you are braver than I am would be an understatement. I don't fly anymore. The last time I did the flight attendant was strapped in and yelling "Oh-my-we-are-gonna-die" instead of making calming pratter in the PA.

My inability to fly will probably prevent me from ever seeing London, along with other things.

[meirion.livejournal.com]

Well, if you don't fancy Oxford, there's always Cambridge ;-)

[dr-is-in.livejournal.com]

And London really sees me, and I've almost stopped worrying about how I look.

This. I fell in love with London when I went last year. The whole country actually (xenutia1 lives in a most charming village southeast of London, north of Hastings. I loved the time I got to spend there, and the last time I took the train to St Leonards instead of Robertsbridge because it was a direct route and was thrilled to find myself at the seaside, and ended up getting an improptu car tour of Hastings from Mel and her dad as we were trying to reach Mel's boyfriends house and its all narrow twisting streets, and old stately homes, and a seaside with little cottages and it was just so lovely).

But London....for the first time in my life, I felt comfortable walking down the street without fear of insults or taunts because of my weight. I felt like I was being accepted for me, and not just how I looked. The people were so friendly and the city is so welcoming and theres this life and energy to the city.

[redstapler.livejournal.com]

I feel much the same way about London. I got to live there for a month working on a show, and it was amazing. I loved getting to see the city as someone living there, not just visiting.

The energy of that town sings to me, and that meant a lot in the early 2000s when New York had stopped singing to me for a while.

[dkompare.livejournal.com]

London is one of maybe four places on Earth where I feel at home. I lived there as a student for four months way, way back in 1989. It took until 2005 to come back (sadly for only a week), but as soon as I stepped onto to the platform at Victoria Station, it all came rushing back to me. I felt it in my bones. And, amazingly, I remembered how to get around so much of Central London on foot, like it was riding a bicycle.

My next chance will probably come in 2012, with my SO, my kids, and a dozen-odd of my college students in tow. Hopefully at least one of them will feel as much at home as I did, and fall in love with London.

[ladyaelfwynn.livejournal.com]

When in '89? I was there for a semester fall of '89 and fell in love all over. (I'd been in '86 for three weeks all over England and Scotland with about a week in the London suburbs with many trips into town.)

[ladyaelfwynn.livejournal.com]

If you get a chance, you should go to Camden Market, if it's still there. There was a horrid fire in Camden a couple of years ago and I don't know if the market survived. It's the most wonderful flea market I've ever been to. It's like a rabbit warren of yummy stalls with everything from old sewing machines, to jewelry, to tarot card readers.

I'm hoping to get over to England sometime the next few years for about a month with the kidlet. I want us to stay in Whitby (hugs the North Sea at the edge of the North Yorkshire Moors); one of the wildest places I've ever been. The sea comes crashing in and the wind screams across the moors. It's amazing!

[dkompare.livejournal.com]

January through April. I lived in Bloomsbury, just off of Russell Square. Sigh. Got up to Oxford a couple of times as well, and (a bit bizarrely, but still) went all the way up to Grimsby on my own for a one-day SF convention!

[concernedlily.livejournal.com]

Welcome to London! Today was one of the first truly warm days we've had so far, I'm glad it helped you start to get to know the city.

[paulshandy.livejournal.com]

When I go abroad, I find myself bending over backwards with most people I meet to avoid the "ugly American" thing. My foreign languages are pretty sucky, but I give it a go when I can. I've often told people that Frankfurt would be the perfect place to retire, because you can hop on a train in the morning and have dinner in Venice, or Vienna, or Paris, or Berlin... you get the idea. It was the cleanest modern large city I've ever seen, plus the major airport and well funded arts... I didn't mean to to turn this into a commercial, sorry.

When I first saw the movie "Spirited Away" I thought the extended train scene was cool, but I didn't understand why anyone would think a train ride all that magical. But then I took the train from Frankfurt to Vienna, and then Vienna to Venice, and I got it.

[ladyaelfwynn.livejournal.com]

Some my classes were over in Russel Sq.! I lived on the corner of Gower St. and Chenies by the Goodge St. tube stop.

[ghost-light.livejournal.com]

One of the things I loved about the Tardis booths in London was that the insides were always plastered with sex ads.

[shipchan.livejournal.com]

You should read Neverwhere. I know you're not a huge Neil Gaiman fan, but it really captures London very well. Also London is more New York's brother then a lot of cities in America. It makes sense you like it.

[ekatarina.livejournal.com]

My first trip to London, when I looked out the window and saw through the clouds the snaking dark line of the Thames, I started to cry. Aside from the British children's books, the complete lack of stories about the war and my love of English literature, I was going to be in a place for the first time in my life where I was not an interloper, a colonial oppressor. Not that I actively felt like that at home, but it just hit me then.

Ekatarina

[rm.livejournal.com]

Canary Wharf is on my list of things I feel a personal need to briefly engage, but after getting off a plane and having barely slept for several days, it was well beyond me. The shudder, I think was well-earned.

[isil-helyanwe.livejournal.com]

Man, you got here on the first nice day of the year. Long may the glorious weather continue!

[newsbean.livejournal.com]

I wanted to like Neverwhere a whole lot more than I actually liked it. Ah well.

[shipchan.livejournal.com]

I think I liked it because it delt a lot with the people who are homeless or displaced in a city, who were the people I hung out with a lot when I read it. Some Neil Gaiman stuff isn't for everyone. It depends on the story and the person.