Seeing the opening ceremony and the way London has put on its pretty face has once again made me fall in love with London. Looking at the views on TV fills me with immense pride and giddiness, even 8 years on. I used to live there! That phenomenal place used to be my home!
Obviously that pint of London pride is pulled from a tap of misguided loyalty and served with a hefty swig of nostalgy. The city is excruciatingly expensive for starters. As a student, even more so. I used to live in a bedsit which meant sharing toilets and bathrooms with total strangers, some of which were so scary-looking that for that entire year I never dared to use the loos in the middle of the night. But the location was wonderful- 7 minute-walk from Marble Arch and walking distance to Portobello Market. The bus to my school stopped right in front of my building. When ever it felt like it. Which wasn't often. And anyway, London traffic was so horrendous that I walked to school quicker.
London is dirty. By the end of each day my nostrils were full of black gunk and my pores looked like they belonged to someone in Chernobyl.
And it's dangerous. Unless you find "Metropolitan police seeks your assistance in solving a murder that took place here yesterday"- signs essential to the ambiance.
You'd think that in order to holiday in an English-speaking country, you'd go to an English-speaking-country, such as ... oh wait- England! That is, however, not the case. Appallingly large portion of customer service-related jobs are held by foreigners with appallingly poor command of English.
And that NHS that according to the Olympics opening ceremony England is so proud of? I have particularly fond memories of an appointment with a Greek doctor who was supposed to tell me if I had cancer or not but instead spent in on the phone with her son, trying to talk him into coming out of an oven he had locked himself in...
Ohhh, London. In spite of everything you are a city quite like nothing else. You do have your moments- and they are glorious ones. The museums, the galleries, the shops, the restaurants, the markets, the diversity, the pubs, the parks, the Sound of Music Sing-a-Longs...
I do miss you. It's been a couple of years since my last visit and I think it just might be time to come see you again...
And it's dangerous. Unless you find "Metropolitan police seeks your assistance in solving a murder that took place here yesterday"- signs essential to the ambiance.
You'd think that in order to holiday in an English-speaking country, you'd go to an English-speaking-country, such as ... oh wait- England! That is, however, not the case. Appallingly large portion of customer service-related jobs are held by foreigners with appallingly poor command of English.
And that NHS that according to the Olympics opening ceremony England is so proud of? I have particularly fond memories of an appointment with a Greek doctor who was supposed to tell me if I had cancer or not but instead spent in on the phone with her son, trying to talk him into coming out of an oven he had locked himself in...
Ohhh, London. In spite of everything you are a city quite like nothing else. You do have your moments- and they are glorious ones. The museums, the galleries, the shops, the restaurants, the markets, the diversity, the pubs, the parks, the Sound of Music Sing-a-Longs...
I do miss you. It's been a couple of years since my last visit and I think it just might be time to come see you again...
A person will likely always feel a certain level of nostalgia towards the cities where they lived during their uni days.
ReplyDeleteCase in point: Florence is a gorgeous city and I had a wonderful time there. However, it's also bloody freezing in the winter and absolutely boiling hot in the summer, not to mention the hordes of tourists who fill the entirety of the old town from April until October. I also vividly remember the time when I was using an ATM in Piazza della Signoria (which houses one of the outdoor copies of Michelangelo's David) and two young female tourists from the US asked me where the statue of David was... They didn't even look sheepish when I pointed out that there was, in fact, a copy right behind them...
About the Sing-a-Along Sound of Music. At it's best it can be a divine experience but at it's worst, well, I can tell you: no nuns are heading for that place..
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