First Impressions of London

Now that I have worked out what the words “alright” and “bless” mean in passing conversation (and what the appropriate response is), I have taken one step closer to submersing myself in London culture.

For your information, “alright” is the shortened form of the question “Are you all right?” and I found the best way to respond is by saying “Yeah, you?”. “Bless” can be used as a colloquialism or as a short form of its usual meaning. For instance if someone is acting strangely, an onlooker might comment “bless” in reference to him as a way to show exactly what they think of his actions, whereas if someone else performs a random act of kindness, “bless” would also apply but meaning “bless him” instead.

My first week in London was a blur of hostels with bad beds, job applications, job interviews, and meals out of Styrofoam bowls. It was late autumn and the job market was not looking promising after an economic decline from the country’s Foot and Mouth outbreak. A fast approaching winter didn’t help my cause either, but I soldiered on and was lucky to find a full time job within three weeks. In terms of cooking, I became very imaginative with foods that would be good accompaniments to reconstituted noodles as I only had a kettle in my hostel room and my Australian dollars had been hit hard with the English exchange rate.

None of this mattered though when I saw the things I had always associated with London - the red double-decker buses, black cabs, blue police (Dr Who) boxes and the Thames. The bitterly cold wind and rain that howled around me on the first day I walked across the famous river somehow seemed a perfect fit. I remember crossing the Thames at the Waterloo Bridge and craning my neck around the curve for a glimpse of Big Ben, eager to see another London landmark.

I can still remember my first weekend in London and the feeling of being a tourist in what was to be a sort of home-town for me in the coming months. Those first days were comprised of an essential visit to the Portobello Road markets at Notting Hill. I wandered slowly along the street, taking in the sights and smells of the antique, craft, and food stalls, and stopping often for a closer look. I vowed to come back once I had more money, as it was a great way to lose a few hours gift-hunting or just “window” shopping.

From Notting Hill I strolled along the canals of Little Venice, amazed to see the water threading its way right through the city on my A-Z (an essential guide for London’s newcomers). House boats overflowing with gardens and ornaments were painted in clashing colours and dotted the pleasant canal. I couldn’t help but think it would be a pretty good place to live – if the neighbours get too much you just pick up anchor and leave.
What weekend wouldn’t be complete without a lazy afternoon at a pub? The pub in question was packed to the rafters with a half and half mix of British and Australians from Fulham, congregated to watch the rugby union match between the two countries. I was confident of Australia’s chances but that soon drained as the Brit’s rendition of “Who’s Your Sovereign” became more slurred and the English score rose.

While that first weekend was a quick taste of English tourism, it wasn’t until after a few weeks of being a hostel hermit that I finally decided to dive in, pull out the maps and the camera, and do a grand tour, starting at St Paul’s Cathedral in the middle of the city. The beautiful and imposing structure was home to hundreds of pigeons begging food from the many office workers who had come to the cathedral during their lunch break for a peaceful pause in their busy day. My sightseeing tour also included a stroll past the Old Bailey where I saw a clutch of journalists and photographers waiting expectantly for someone to leave the court.

Covent Garden’s Piazza was buzzing with craft stalls ringed by exclusive and expensive shops and Soho had an eclectic mix of visitors coming for the theatres and gay scene alike, but what caught my eye from afar was Harrods at Knightsbridge lit up for Christmas. The building, which spans an entire block, was covered from roof to road in lights fashioned into Christmas themes and the window decorations were just as spectacular. When I went into the renowned department store I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious in my cargo pants and polar fleece jumper, seeing as the doorman was better dressed than I was. I decided to brave it, though, and I ended up spending several hours wandering all floors of the store finding everything anybody could ever want - from Bengal kittens to colour co-ordinated kitchen appliances to Tiffany’s jewellery.

I also took advantage of the government’s generous gift of free admission to museums and galleries spending days in the Tate Britain, National Gallery, British Museum, Victoria and Albert Museum and the Natural History Museum until I felt like I’d soaked up enough ancient culture to last me a few years. No visit to London would be complete without running through the horde of pigeons Trafalgar Square like a five year old, retracing the Monopoly board favourites like Piccadilly Square and Liverpool Street Station, or peering through the gates at Buckingham Palace.

After that whirlwind day of being a tourist, I felt myself gently fitting in, turning slowly to English customs and enjoying them. It seemed like no time had passed when my first London Christmas arrived, not technically a white Christmas but cold enough. The thick frost that covered everything certainly felt like snow when it crunched underfoot. I prepared the traditional English Christmas feast - roast turkey and pork with stuffing, cranberry sauce, apple sauce, gravy and a plum pudding - and felt almost at home. Then, the night of New Year’s Eve I joined thousands of fellow travellers and residents alike at Westminster for Big Ben’s chimes at midnight. In the noise, I couldn’t even hear the chimes. But it was the start of a new year in London, and I would have to make do. I had to settle for the bells of Westminster Abbey instead.

Article Source: http://www.therepozitory.com.au

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