London memories without photos

I was surprised at the extent to which the world culture--at least the English-speaking part of it--has been homogenized. If you had just plopped me down in London without letting me see any of the place names (e.g., Paddington Station) or landmarks, I cannot say how long it might have taken me to realize that I had crossed an ocean.

I would certainly have known, as soon as I looked at or listened to the people around me, that I was in a big city, but I have the clear impression that British accents constituted only a slight majority of the voices we heard, if that. The person who checked us past customs had a Russian accent; Hispanic, Middle Eastern, and Asian accents were all around. None of the people with whom I spoke at our hotel--with the exception of the maintenance man, whom I'll get back to in a moment--were British. On Westminster Bridge, with sight of the Boadicea statue, I could find no native Britons to ask how to pronounce her name. I think the souvenir-booth vendor who finally did pronounce it for me was Korean.

The posters all over the tube walls were identical to those you would see in the States. Movies: Public Enemy, a film about Chicago gangsters filmed largely in Wisconsin; the execrable and ubiquitous Bruno (Sasha Cohen, a British comedian but unfortunately very present in the States); and Sunshine Cleaning, a film about a pair of California sisters. The electronics, cars, and book advertisements that filled the remainder of the poster frames were also identical to those you would see in the States. Cable television shows: National Geographic. (What does 'National' Geographic even mean in London?) The posters advertising stage plays--Grease, Chicago, Michael Jackson, and others were similarly familiar to me. (Talk about timing; the stage show of Michael Jackson's music apparently opened a day or two after his death.) The world was still reeling from the news of Jackson's death when we arrived in London; one more American who was all over the magazines, tabloids, and television.

The tube licenses 'buskers'--street musicians who play for tips--in the stations. The music was delightful, but it was also either from the States (Paul Simon, James Taylor) or music just as common in the States as in London (Elton John.) When we finally whisked past a street musician playing Handel, I desperately wished I'd stuck a pound note in my pocket so that I could drop it in.

I loved the tubes. And for me--a person who is very averse to crowds, particularly crowds in a hurry--that is saying a lot, because the tubes were crowded.

And not even all that orderly. With the high proportion of foreigners in the city, there was no consensus about which side of the stairs was for ascending and which for descending. Even the posted signs--"Walk on the left"--had little effect. An ad-hoc decision was needed every time we came to a staircase that accommodated two-way traffic.

I loved the ceramic tile work in the tube stations. Like the bridges on the Thames, every station had a unique color scheme and style. You could tell they were constructed in many different eras. I need to remember to ask Ellie the name of the tube station near Abbey Road; that was my favorite. But they were all good.

I loved the long, long, long escalators from the surface to the tube platforms. Because the tube was busy all the time--not just at rush hours--there was always a conveyor full of strangers passing by in the opposite direction. The variety of sizes, shapes, colors, dress modes, moods, conversations, everything--was so full of life and interest. I so wanted simply to train a video camera on the opposite elevator. I swear it would make for an interesting half-hour (at least) movie.

The engineering of the tube stations also fascinated me, particularly when three or more lines shared the same station. The trains ran at different levels, and to get from one to the other, passengers scurry along a variety of tunnels going up and down, around corners, up and down escalators and stairs. I tried to imagine, but could not, what a 3-D model of the platforms and subways would look like.

Other things I want to remember:

Thames river walk at Kew.

No iced tea anywhere.

Other tourists waving at us in recognition of our shared dependence on Rick Steves at Westminster...

Intense large specialty stores--an entire store filled with nothing but umbrellas near Charing Cross Road; fishing tackle at a store near the South Kensington tube station.

Cheerful class resentment from gangly Cockney maintenance man who fixed the electricity, with bad teeth. (Ya won't catch the royal family doin this...)

Saturday notes not made on blog: Walk to Hindu temple took us through workaday London. IKEA, etc., except for small front yards, could have been Chicago.
St. Paul's: far too military for my tastes; People get so swept up in worship of authority that they no longer distinguish between sacred and secular. John Donne statue was amusing. Could have gotten in free through door near gift shop, at least at that time of day.
Heard choir at Westminster Abbey; boys and man.
Walked through St. James Park; Beatles last concert venue in the rain; Fortnum and Mason.

Stereotypically sweet, helpful Indian cab driver: When Ellie asked me for gum and I said, "Damn! I forgot to buy you some," the cab driver gave us a package of gum and insisted we keep the whole thing.

The parks were evidence of the fact that having an upper class does, on occasion, have benefits for the common welfare. Beautiful park land in the middle of the city was preserved for the ages, when it would not have been if it had been owned by less comfortable folks.

Silly, self-conscious, but charming Liverpudlian on second riverboat cruise, who knew that a middle-aged American woman would want to know about Liverpool, and his Silent-Bob friend from Cambridge. The Australian on first riverboat cruise. Ubiquitous helicopters; the riverboat driver said 'businessmen avoiding traffic.'

Ellie and I bumped heads a few times before I realized that we had not spent this much time with each other--certainly not depended on each other so much--since she had been in high school. It was very clear to me how very much she and our relationship had changed. It's always been one of mutual respect, but at least before I was the mom. In London, she was the one who knew her way around and who wanted to lead. Mostly, that was fine with me, but once in a while, when I had looked at the map and had an idea of my own, she would really snap at me to put me back in my place.