Welcome to the Big Smoke

After bouncing around from city to city for the summer, I’ve landed in the Big Smoke. Welcome to the city of Big Ben, fish and chips, the world's slowest roller-coaster (aka the London Eye) ... erm… and other British stereotypes.

I am grateful to be settled in London for a prolonged stretch – ironic how four months has earned the qualified ‘prolonged’ – and I am thrilled I don’t have to keep packing and unpacking and hauling my behemoth of a suitcase to/from airports, along never-ending train platforms and up/down staircases (since there are practically no elevators in Europe). I have cursed every pair of extra shoes that I’ve been lugging around since I am normally a carry-on-only type (but that would be ambitious for even the most meticulous packer for a year-long trip).

Since being able to afford a flat on my own was as likely as seeing a unicorn drinking a piña colada, I moved into a shared flat with three roommates. My flat mates are mythical English gents that are normally lost in the hustle'n'bustle of the expat infiltration. During our brief screening Skype call, I was reassured it was a good fit because I had never met three dudes who mentioned dinner parties as frequently as they did in ten minutes. Since moving in, I’ve been reminded how fun it can be to have roommates after living on my own for several years. Focused on my fears of toilet-seat battles and dishwashing stand-offs, I’d forgotten about all of the perks of flatmates - people to ask how your day was, share a meal with, and bribe with cake so I don’t eat it all myself. Oh wait, that last one is not specific to roommates. Plus flatmates can be embedded friends, which is nice in a big city where it’s pretty easy to float anonymously through the crowd. My flatmates share a similar professional/bohemian split personality to me (which shouldn’t have been a surprise since I was connected to them via a friend from surf camp in Portugal. Thanks Jonny!). Less surprising, there have already been lots of philosophical talks around the kitchen table over Thai curry and wine.

So much has changed in London in a near-decade since I lived here. During my time at LSE, I lived on the Southbank which was a bit of a dead zone at that time. I have learned that the Southbank is now cool, littered with lively bars and restaurants. It’s had a resurgence of life. Within days of arriving I popped down to my old 'hood to visit the Tate Modern, my favourite of the 240+ museums in London. (It’s an absolute must-see, even if you're not an art lover). After boasting about how often I used to visit when I lived here, I walked into one of the exhibits in a basement corner that felt like an underground concrete bunker. 

Advice from Bruce Nauman (at the Tate Modern).

Feeling confused and disoriented, I kept thinking (and voicing relentlessly to Meagan) that I didn’t remember this part of the Modern and worried that maybe I hadn’t been such a regular patron as I claimed. Thankfully, I’m not going crazy. A quick google search was able to allay my fears of a faulty memory (and the warranty had long expired). This new space was actually part of a massive extension that opened in 2016. Sanity restored.

Looking out over the city from the new Tate tower, there is lego-land evidence of the change. The Shard has made the skyline a whole lot spikier than it used to be. And then there is a boxy building that is nicknamed the Walkie-Talkie... And there is the Cheese Grater... The Gherkin is no longer the strangest shape on the horizon. And there are no signs of slowing down as evidenced by the abundance of industrial cranes dotting the evening sky like one-legged flamingos taking a nap.

For London 2.0, I’m living in Finsbury Park in North London – a relatively undiscovered gem on the opposite side of the city. Despite evidence of creeping gentrification, Finsbury Park retains a strong working-class flavour reflecting its popularity as a landing place for immigrants. The streets are lined with Afro-Caribbean and Turkish food shops that display a range of strange produce that I’ve never seen before (there is one vegetable that is so foreign looking that I am secretly curious about whether it’s for eating or to roll out your feet at the end of a long day). A few doors down on Stroud Green Road, you’ll find a wig supermarket... It’s the Costco of wigs and weaves as well as hair serums, oils, shines and polishers. With eateries to suit all cravings and wallet sizes, I've already scribbled a neighbourhood must-eat list in the back of my notebook. FYI - The food in Britain is not nearly as bad as it used to be. Neither are the teeth. So don’t let either put you off visiting. As a colourful, diverse neighbourhood, Finsbury Park would not be complete without a cast of eccentric characters like the guy who plays clarinet all day every day under the Finsbury Park Bridge which has become my personal workday anthem.

The view from my office in Hackney.

I work in Hackney, a neighbourhood I’m pretty sure I’d never actually visited last time because it was “too far away.” Back then, my life revolved around the LSE campus which is in the heart of “The City.” I now try to avoid central London like the plague. What once seemed the realm of bright lights and excitement of this glorious city now makes me want to vomit at the thought of having to battle armies of tourists for sidewalk territory and oxygen on the tube. Compared to the concrete jungle of my London 1.0 experience, I walk to work feeling smug about living so near to 110-acres of green space and equally close to well-connected transport links. That's the holy grail in London.

Comparing London 1.0 and 2.0, it’s almost as if I’m living in two different cities... or that I’m two different people. Not sure which is likelier. Regardless, I have a feeling I won’t be ready to leave London at the end of four months. In my first week, I’m already more in love with London than the entire time I lived here eight years ago. It feels like it's the first page of a new story.

Just in case you need to visualize where I'm sitting as I write my blog or when we're catching up over Skype. P.S. Aren't you just a wee bit jealous of my hammock!

Previous

Next