Going Native

View of the south bank from the London Eye

There was a definite moment in Manhattan last year when I realized that I was no longer the wide-eyed observer of the ever-varied scene; I’d become just another numb commuter. I’d rather listen to the music on my headphones than eavesdrop on my fellow straphangers. It was a rueful realization—because it meant that the magic of being in a new place had faded. I think I reached that moment here in London last week. Parliament still holds wonderment (because I remain a huge geek of political institutions, and there is always something new going on)—but as I elbow past hordes of British and international tourists who cannot decide if they should walk on the right or the left, I am fixated on my destination. The twice daily journey weaved through endless street performers and costumed adults is merely a necessary evil.

It’s not London’s fault, really. It’s a marvelous city through and through. I’ve been here for over eight weeks though and I can’t be awed indefinitely. I’m sure that when I leave in two weeks (for Wales, then Ireland, then NYC) that I will get misty-eyed and nostalgic, but that is still a fortnight away.

While it is a charming city (as massive cities go), London’s best quality is that it is a hub for the rest of the country. I have not skimped on my adventures afield. I have seen everything that I would regret very much not to have seen, gone to places that I hitherto was unaware of, and would still see much more of this country if I had the time and resources. I want to bring this notion back to New York with me--I can easily travel around the East Coast from NYC and I really should and not let school swallow me up too much. 

The Eye

My Dad sponsored a little luxury this week that I must share. The London Eye is a giant Ferris wheel that was built for the Millennium and offers a bird’s eye view of the city. One of my dear readers (it could have been you!), T, passed through the UK this weekend on her summer Europe tour and so we did the Champagne Experience on the Eye. It was out of my price range (hence the paternal sponsorship), but if you ever go, go with the Champagne experience. For a bit more than the regular tickets, you can pick your time to embark (and therefore bypassing the endless queue of school groups), you are less crowded since fewer people are stuffed into your “bubble,” and of course, there is the glass of champagne. It was romantic enough to make me concerned that there would be a proposal among our fellow passengers, but happily they refrained. 

T and I also made it to Lewes and Brighton on Friday. Lewes was chosen solely on the basis that T desperately needed to see a castle and it was on the way to Brighton (which had been on my short list to visit).

Lewes Castle

Lewes turned out to be simply adorable. T reminded me with her enthusiasm how nice it is to get out to the rural English towns. Beyond it's quaint exterior, Lewes has an interesting history. The castle had been an unsuccessful stronghold for Henry III during the battle of Lewes, and the town boasts at least two famous residents: Thomas Paine and Anne of Cleves (Henry VIII’s fourth wife). The castle itself was small but right in the middle of town. Not that that mattered for Tee and I, as we, in our enjoyment of strolling and taking beaucoup pictures, walked a mile beyond Lewes castle because we mistook the distant turrets of the local prison for the barbican.

I had heard good things about Brighton, but in the short time that we had there, and the persistent wind that nearly blew poor T over on several occasions, it wasn’t as enjoyable as Lewes. The beach was busy despite the nippy wind and the people watching was tip top—especially on the creepy carnival pier. We had some fish and chips and beer for lunch and then stared solemnly out onto the English Channel, undoubtedly thinking deep thoughts, as one is supposed to do on chilly seashores.

Brighton

Another plus of having T in town was ushering her through Westminster. I warned her that the tour would be distinctly Deborah’s version and that there would be a great deal of personal anecdotes, supposition, and repeated stories that may or may not be true. Also, since I usually notice the art first, it was heavy on my opinions of certain portraits and frescos. Giving an ad hoc tour was a fun way for me to think about what I’ve actually learned about the place—and what I still need to take in before I leave.