Two weeks later, still intrigued
Something is in the air, one might say. Or perhaps something about it speaks directly to my inner self. Whatever the reason, London never ceases to surprise me in a positive way, and feelings of attachment have grown within the heart of a person otherwise indifferent to large cities.
Another poet’s soul captured by an immortal city, perhaps? I did write a poem about the Serpentine lake, a magnet pulling all visitors towards its shores in Hyde Park and the Kensington Gardens:
Serpentine Song
Glitter, glitter, Serpentine,
May your birdsong grow, may your surface shine
In the light of day, you have frozen time
With an air so sweet that it tastes sublimeWhisper, whisper, Serpentine,
Such a mystic view makes you seem divine
When you speak to the trees, to the rose and lime,
Nature bows to the sound of your glorious chimeRemember, remember, Serpentine,
I shall always cherish this memory of mine.
It is worth stating that the mere writing of a poem about a place is not enough for me to fall in love with the place. As such, we must dig deeper to understand my sudden appreciation of this metropolis.
Some prior knowledge of my background is required: I grew up for five years in a small village in the green English countryside, amongst fire engines and goats; my family moved to Brussels, with a population of one million, right afterwards, and I have lived there ever since.
Brussels has become my “hometown”, despite my constant struggle with my Belgo-British identity – I refuse to be seen as Belgian, and am proud of only holding a British passport; however, I share much in common with the people of Brussels, from the simple yet crucial art of cooking to socio-political views on Europe (the latter are wholly unnecessary in our day-to-day lives, but they make for interesting discussions).
Coming from Brussels, where few claim to share a “Brussels identity”, I always considered Paris to be too proud of itself. The tall Eiffel Tower stands proud above our heads, and while the Louvre is an impressive feat of architecture, mixing classic and modern designs, I have never found it to be the most incredible gallery in the world. Like a dish made by a French “chef coq”, while the appearance is impressive, there is far less substance to it than one would expect, and one does not feel satisfied.
London, however, has invaded my innermost self, through subtle unexpected messages: a large “Les Misérables” poster, red-brick buildings, a Bentley or two, Shakespearean actors, Dixons.co.uk adverts in the Tube, Big Ben striking two o’clock in the afternoon. Taken separately, any one of these messages is without influence on a human being, even on abnormal ones such as myself. As a whole, the trickle of information speaking of an interesting and exciting city floods my mind and quickens my heart rate.
“What is Brussels?” is a question often uttered in Belgium, be it in a political, philosophical or demographical context. In contrast, in Britain, one never asks “What is London?”, but “What is London to you/me?”.
What then is London to the ever-anonymous Peter Craddock, after a mere two weeks?
It has mainly become a collection of memories.
Each day is a discovery, an adventure, as I slowly become familiar with my surroundings.
I have had the chance, nay, the privilege of making friends with an array of people from diverse and oft fascinating backgrounds. Even by staying in the confines of my floor in our accommodation building, I interact with the following nationalities: American, Canadian (English- and French-speaking), Chinese, English, German, Hungarian, Indian, Irish, Portuguese, Singaporean, Turkish.
With many of these people, I have had the opportunity to discover neighbourhoods, parks, tourist attractions, …, in a number too great to be determined by my forgotten mathematical skill.
So far, none of these memories contains any inkling of regret.
Despite this emotional character given to London, a number of more objective keywords may be attributed to it. I shall only mention two, which immediately spring to mind.
London is a hub. How else could one describe the large variety of people met, the socio-economic disparities, the sheer number of Tube passengers, the ever-present state of “organised chaos”?
London is alive. Musicals and plays cannot be counted, and there is too much going on at any given time for one to be able to fully experience London in a short period of time.
And did I mention that I now have university classes? However, news regarding those shall have to wait until I have come to know them better.