London is an
incredibly vast city, and it seems to be growing. Nearly everywhere you look, there’s a giant
crane looming in the sky. Obviously I
haven’t stayed here long enough to grow frustrated by all this construction,
but, from what I gather, the English seem bent on making improvements. New buildings are being erected, and certain
Underground terminals are changing for citizens’ convenience. In the United States, we only maintain roads,
and maintenance seems like a euphemism for inconvenience.
Some parts of
London, like Oxford Street or Piccadilly Circus remind me the bright lights of
New York City. All you can do in those
spots is avoid pedestrians and shop for clothes. I don’t understand the allure in that for
travelers. I prefer to stroll down the
quiet backstreets filled with row-houses where famous-but-not-too-famous artists
like Carol Reed used to live. Or I
prefer a promenade through one of London’s many parks, which are extremely well
managed. I constantly see greens-keepers
mowing the grass or mending the flower beds.
London’s gardens, like its people, are extremely well-kept and civilized.
And then there are
the touristy places like Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, and Big
Ben. All of these places are cool to see
the first time in real life rather than seeing them from afar, say, in post
cards or travel magazines or desktop backgrounds. I suppose it’s nice to validate the existence
of the Tower Bridge in person——just to say you’ve been there. But, for me to truly appreciate these places,
I need to understand and enjoy their histories.
Otherwise Big Ben is just a clock.
I also saw Platform 9
3/4 at King’s Cross Station where wizards catch the Hogwarts Express.
A cart stacked with two trunks and Hedwig
inside his cage is embedded into the brick wall. Now that is a landmark I can appreciate because
not only can I discover the living treasures of a foreign city, but I can also transport
myself to the remote corners of my imagination. Since I am referring to a work of fiction, this
certainly makes for an easier transition out of reality. What I mean to suggest is that the historic buildings
hold very little power for me in the present because many of the sites are not being
used for their original purposes. These ancient
monuments only come to life when I imagine their pasts.
Yet this recreation of
former glories proves difficult because the modern world engulfs the historic sites.
When I saw the Buckingham Palace, for example,
I thought, “Now that’s a pretty nice house, but I don’t really care for the
neighborhood.”
There’s too much
traffic, both in the form of cars and voyeuristic tourists clinging to the gates. The famous guards, with their funny bearskin
hats, stood like statues. I was under
the impression they never flinched, so I was quite surprised when one of the
guards violently stomped his foot and yelled, “Get off the fence!”
The guards, it
seems, are not so much responsible for protecting the royal family, but instead
they have been relegated to babysitting ignorant tourists. The outburst was intimidating. I actually felt pleased to have witnessed
this demonstrative reprimand. Watching
the guard suddenly freak out was way better than watching the guards clock out
and clock in——the changing of the guard, in other words. The popular tradition offers very little variation. There is no thrill for me to watch an act of
which I know the end result. I know what
to expect. Thousands of tourists have
seen the same act, but this guard’s angry outburst was unexpected, and all the
better because of it.
The next place on my
must-see checklist was St. Paul’s Cathedral.
Before entering, I ordered fish and chips from a pub nearby and ate
outside practically under the shadow of the church. The view was wonderful and so was the food,
despite the lack of salt. The experience
was all spectacularly British.
Outside the entrance
of St. Paul’s, I saw a red double-decker bus that advertised the new Johnny
Depp movie Transcendence, and I
expected to feel a similar sensation upon opening the doors.
The church is
massive, and the architecture is crafted in a way that goes beyond mere
expertise and ingenuity. Generally, I’m
not a fan of that old style of painting where everyone looks slightly chubby,
especially in their baby-fat cheeks. As
you can tell, I’m no art historian. But
I found the murals to be very rich in color.
The whole scene was so captivating that I didn’t know what to focus
on. My eyes feel a similar
disorientation when I stare at a tattooed man’s sleeve: I see everything at once but nothing in
particular.
Photographs were not
allowed, but I’ve learned that I can’t take a proper picture inside of a
church. Great architecture is supposed
to be symmetrical, but I find symmetrical photographs uninteresting. St. Paul’s was the first magnificent church I
visited during my trip. Initially, I
suspected I would vividly remember the interior for years to come. But after visiting several famous churches,
the disparate images get tangled in my memory.
Like many virginal rites,
my first visit to a famous church may not have been the most climactic, but the
experience was certainly memorable. A choir
was humming softly in the background. Faint
fires flickered on white candles. The voices
grew louder, and the sound reverberated off the walls. I looked at all the paintings, the arches, and
the statues perched high above. I wondered
how anyone could have such great skill, but I realized that if you were going to
expend so much effort then you must do it for the right cause. I rarely find myself in a place of worship, so
I guess I never realized how much the image of the church was emblematic of the
faith of its practitioners.
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