Monday, March 31, 2014

London: day eighty-two, eighty-three, and eighty-four

Saturday morning I found myself at St. Pancras waiting for my mom and sister to arrive. Time was dragging on and I was beginning to wonder whether or not they had gotten on the right train. I wandered back and forth for a while and eventually sat myself down on the stairs. I hadn’t gotten any sleep at all the night before because my insomnia was especially bad that night and caused me to pull an all-nighter and I was becoming a little anxious about where mom and Haley were. I had not been sitting there for long when a guy (black guy, seemed at least several years older than me, but not middle aged) who was walking by stopped on his way up the stairs and leaned on the middle railing to ask me if I was alright. I told him yeah, just waiting but he didn’t go away, instead, he struck up a conversation with me.  I can’t remember his name, but he said he was from Angola. We talked for a while just casually, he was waiting around also before he needed to go take some sort of qualification test for his job. Friendly, and interesting but again, not my type and also the fact that I am just not looking for anything right now. Still too raw and I am in no shape for another go. So when he asked me for my number, I simply told him that I was already in a relationship (just the easiest thing that came to mind) and he seemed fairly understanding.
I waited a bit longer before deciding to head back to NIDO to wait. I was there, practicing guitar when I got a text from a payphone telling me that mom and Haley were here, so I ran back down to St. Pancras and found them there. I got them to their hotel before we set off on a tour of London. First, we took the Tube down to Tower Hill, we then did a LONG walk from the Tower of London, across Tower Bridge, through Borough Market, past the Globe and the Tate, across Millennium Bridge, and eventually stopping at St. Paul’s. We then took the Tube from there to Westminster where we walked by Big Ben and Parliament, across Lambeth Bridge to the Southbank near the London Eye and crossed back over on the bridge directly underneath Big Ben. We then found a pub to eat at and mom and Haley got to have their first meal at a pub as well as see all the major sights. When it got dark that night, we went on another walk from King’s Cross to IES so that I could show them where I go to class, we passed the British Museum and then caught a bus back from Tottenham.
Yesterday, we went to Camden Market and spent the vast majority of the day there. As always, I could not leave without buying something and ended up with a pretty ring with a large red rhinestone and a bracelet with an Iron Cross on it that mom bought me. We tried the food and explored for several hours before deciding to head toward Soho. However, when we were trying to find the bus stop something really rather strange happened. We were on the next street over from Camden High Street because we needed a bus going the opposite way and Camden is a one way (also the Tube Station was closed). As we were standing at the bus stop reading the route information I heard mom exclaim, “what’s your problem dude!?” and turned around to see a middle sized and rather normally dressed black guy standing right behind us staring hard at her as though offended. She had exclaimed at him because apparently she had turned around to see him standing right behind her with a fist raised in the air as though he were going to punch her. When she turned to look at him, he did a medium speed punching motion toward her face that he pulled back before actually touching her. Mom’s exclamation was what caused Haley and I to turn around and he just stared at her for a few moments, during which time I was doing a scan of his hands to make sure he didn’t have a knife or something and also wondering what to do if he made a move toward mom. But then he turned around and walked away without a word. It was REALLY strange and we suspected that he may not have been completely mentally well, because there was no reason whatsoever and no sense in his actions.
From Camden, we made our way to Soho and I gave mom and Haley the same tour that my British Youth Culture professor took us on and which I later took Hannah on sometime back, and showed them all the history of the area. We did not get as far as Abbey Road. But this morning, mom and Haley went there while I was in class (apparently mom did not know what Abbey Road was however and needed some explaining after enduring Haley and my laughter).

After class, I met them at Holborn Station, we got lunch and then took the Tube to St. Paul’s. The next few hours were spent inside St. Paul’s Cathedral (the third time for me). After St. Paul’s we consulted the map in mom’s guide book that she had to figure out how to get to Brick Lane. I had not taken the Tube to Brick Lane before (always having taken the bus from NIDO before), and was slightly confused by its suggestion to get off at Aldgate East rather than Shoreditch. But trusting the book, that was where we went. As it would have it, the map then did not show the way to get to Brick Lane from there and cut off the area where we were. There were also no maps on the street, as our luck would have it. So we explored down one way because I thought I could see it from a distance. But apparently we were terribly wrong and ended up walking and walking and walking looking for a bus stop to get us back in familiar territory. The neighborhood started to turn a little less than desirable which I was by no means pleased with because I didn’t know the area nor how to get out of it and after guys in two passing cars shouted “compliments” at us, I was rather done. Finally we found a bus that would return us to downtown and it was then that we realized just how far we had gone, apparently the entirely wrong direction as we had somehow managed to come close to Wapping which is on the way toward Greenwich. Back in familiar territory once again near St. Paul’s, that was where we got dinner at a pub and then decided to call it an early night on account of sore feet.

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