Shout Out #37
Trip Start
Jun 05, 2006
1
40
41
Trip End
Ongoing
London,
England,
United Kingdom
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
"I'm passing through on my way back to the U.S."
"This is a wild place isn't it?"
"It's definitely interesting."
"Where are you traveling from?"
"Well, I've been backpacking for awhile but I came here from India."
"Oh yeah, how was it?"
"People say you either love it or hate it. It took awhile but I loved it."
"I've heard that about India."
"Actually, on my first night abroad I was staying at a guesthouse in Tahiti owned by a French expat. We were talking with an English girl about India- she had been a couple times- and the French guy told us a story about people he knew who flew to Delhi. They walked out of the airport, looked around, and went right back inside to book a flight home. I'd already bought a flight to Delhi and that story haunted me for months. I think ultimately I loved it because it wasn't easy. India's its own world."
"Sounds like an incredible trip."
"It has been. I'm tired though. It'll be good to go home."
"I can relate to that a little. Sometime after our kids left the house my wife and I toured North America in an RV."
"Really?!"
"We bought it from an elderly couple and put thirty thousand miles on it without any problems. We took it coast-to-coast, up into Canada and Alaska, camped out in the woods...it was the best time of my life."
"Wow! That sounds great. I've always wanted to do that but on motorcycle. There's so much to see in North America."
"There sure is. We took that RV all over the place...forests, mountains, plains, deserts. Actually, Santa Fe, New Mexico was one of our favorite stops. The straw bale adobe architecture really caught our eye. We went back and built a straw bale place on our farm in New Zealand."
"You did?!"
"Yeah. We did the work ourselves and we're just about ready to open it up to the public."
I frequently have a mood where talking takes much more energy than I want to exert. I would have been happy to look out the window and say nothing during the ride. When the man spoke to me I answered hesitantly. As the conversation progressed I was excited to hear what he had to say. Though he was very much a senior in society, he was still youthful. He spoke with exuberance and obviously found much inspiration in life. It inspired me to speak and listen.
I was asleep within minutes of sitting down. The plane should have taken off at the time we boarded. We were still on the ground when I awoke from my nap two hours later. The businessman sitting next to me was stressed about missing his connecting flight to Chicago. Every time the pilot tried to um, er, ah, explain the delay, my buddy groaned along with most other passengers. I didn't feel well and Sarah was waiting in London but I couldn't get worked up over the delay. The fast life was still too foreign. Ultimately the plane took off and ultimately it landed.
Although it wasn't a long ride from Heathrow to Paddington station I was already nodding off. After my nap I hadn't slept at all on the plane. Because of the delay, Sarah had been waiting at Paddington most of the afternoon. I barely said hello before ranting about feeling ravaged. My lack of grace provided the perfect opportunity for her to be incredibly gracious. She gave me some juice as we walked to the main part of the station and let me vent. When I repeated my complaints she delicately told me to get over myself, "I know. You said that already." (Damn, she's right. I've been an ass.) "Thanks for the juice. Did you have to wait long?" Nearby, a man was sweeping the floor with a v-shaped broom designed to push debris toward the center. "Oh wow. I'm used to seeing a lady sweeping the floor with a bundle of grass. It's odd to see things that are designed."
We found a room in Paddington for 40 pounds; essentially the same price as my sparkling room in Dubai but with shared bathrooms. Although it was down the hall, the shower was perfectly refreshing after the voyage. I was a little more personable afterwards. Much had changed since parting ways in Rishikesh and we took some time to hear about one another's adventures. We then went to Covent Garden for dinner.
From the subway station to the restaurant we were surrounded by the glory of London- cafes, busy sidewalks, public plazas, and street performers. Having arrived from Dubai, the basic ability to walk and use trains was phenomenal. I barely paid it any mind though. The time difference caught up with me. Sarah knew of a Greek restaurant with great food and a great crowd of people and I struggled to appreciate the significance. My mind registered all the raw data without applying relevance. The city and Sarah were alive and I was nodding off at the table.
Tate Modern was as much an architectural treat as it was an artistic one. Prior to leaving for the Glastonbury music festival, Sarah was showing me a few sights. A train magically dropped us off at a stop near Big Ben. From there we crossed a bridge over the Thames (pronounced temz for those of you who may want to go to England and pronounce it as it's spelled in English and have everyone make fun of you for it- or just one person in particular who offers 'thyme' as a counter-example even though it still doesn't explain 'ames' going to 'emz') and walked along the Thames, ultimately arriving at the Thames-adjacent Tate Modern. En route, she pointed to the 'Gherkin Building' on the opposite bank of the Thames.
"Gherkin Building? Which one is that?"
"The one that looks like a gherkin."
"A gherkin? Oh yeah...the pickle. Pickled cucumbers in the U.S. are called 'pickles'".
Until its conversion to an art gallery, the Tate Modern building was a power station. Turbine Hall, a vast space cutting through the lower levels of the building, used stark honesty with materials to create a readily adaptable space. The clean interaction between the original brick structure and the steel and glass used in the renovation set the perfect tone for 'Global Cities'. Using the fact that in 2007, for the first time in history 50% of the world's people lived in cities, the exhibit was a collection of mostly pre-existing work focused on cities and urban life with a few extra commissions added to the mix. The Tate's website describes the exhibit better than I can:
'Global Cities looks at the changing faces of ten dynamic international cities: Cairo, Istanbul, Johannesburg, London, Los Angeles, Mexico City, Mumbai, São Paulo, Shanghai and Tokyo.
Exploring each city through five thematic lenses - speed, size, density, diversity and form - the exhibition draws on data originally assembled for the 10th International Architecture Exhibition at the 2006 Venice Biennale. This unique show presents existing films, videos and photographs by more than 20 artists and architects to offer subjective and intimate interpretations of urban conditions in all ten cities.'
The exhibit compared a number of facts about three to five cities in the context of one of the themes. As a whole the exhibit is a major compilation of social, economic, environmental, political, geographical, etc. statistics, figures, and art commissions. Each theme compared a number of statistics for 3 to 5 cities. The overarching idea was that the nature of cities is not easily defined or understood and that it is constantly in flux...especially as they become larger and larger factors in the human experience. With millions of people congregating in relatively small regions, everything that is magnificent and horrific about humanity is magnified. The raw data was vast, scary, and exciting. A friend of mine once spoke of 'what' as being a more thorough question than 'why'. I certainly left the exhibit thinking less about why and more about what it all means.
Films and commissions made the assembled information more personal. It's easy to read about Istanbul having XX% of open space. It's a much different experience seeing a film about people using freeway interchanges for picnic space. A documentary in Sao Paulo was especially captivating. The filmmakers used interviews with people from peculiar businesses or roles in society to give a sense of the nature of the city. A helicopter pilot spoke of the congested airways due to the increased use of helicopters for commuting. A representative for a car bulletproofing company spoke of their services and clientele...those who feared and those who caused much fear. A policeman anonymously described the personal and social situations that created the need for him to take a second job as a privately paid security guard...using the same gun for public and private use. A graffiti artist anonymously described being chased and shot at by the police while the building manager encouraged the police to kill him for painting the building. A catador, someone who collects recyclable materials in the city and takes them to a weigh station, spoke of his work. In addition to the main interviews, the film used interviews with people of related knowledge to add context. A social worker spoke of the need for the catadors to be independent from the state, saying dependence is comfortable but degrading. It's a message I related directly to the political climate in the United States. We've been voting ourselves into dependency.
A commission by Rem Koolhaas also caught my eye. It was described as 'asking whether the privatisation and surveillance of 'public' spaces is creating exclusive urban environments at exactly the time when British cities have become more ethnically and culturally diverse.' (Tate Modern's website) One display was an image of a vibrant early 19th century London street with orange arrows pointing at all the aspects of the photo which are now illegal or not permitted by public agencies. A good example was that awnings weren't allowed if they blocked CCTV angles. An image directly below the streetscape was the same photo with all of the non-approved elements blacked out. The vibrancy no longer existed.
"Bloody hell, the nose-picker's at it again."
"He's a bit dodgy that Yank."
"Indeed. I'd pay a Queen's ransom to know why that fit bird at the Tate got mixed up with such a beastly arse."
"Bugger it. Let the Yank have his day. He looks a bit campy anyhow."
"I believe you're right. Instead, take a gander at the slapper on camera 9... a bit fruity aye?"
With the remainder of the day I roamed through the streets and alleys without knowing or caring much about where I went. London's heavily monitored by CCTV. The average person is caught on CCTV 33 times per day. As a nomadic street wanderer I estimated about 629 camera appearances: 87 times in crosswalks, 216 times heading down the sidewalk, 8 times staring dumbfounded at the phenomenon of 'joggers', 2 times contemplating a billboard with the phrase 'Fine tune your image' which inspired many thoughts about marketing, consumerism, and the fact that I had been away from 'image' almost long enough to forget about it, 5 times (and 3 news camera appearance) chuckling at animal rights protesters (not because I thought it ignoble, only because it reminded me how different first and third world problems are), 7 nose picking incidents when I thought nobody was looking, 5 butt scratches, 233 ogles, and 71 ogles when I thought nobody was looking.
The walk became something of a procession...a process of becoming reacquainted with western society. Being well rested, I could finally appreciate London's vitality. London existed before automobiles so the streets were built for pedestrians. Uncommon little shops, restaurants, and cafes were the common. Public areas were public and not directly associated with shopping. With no destination in mind I moved through the city at a stress free pace; somewhere between senior citizen and mall walker. Among Londoners my pace felt especially slow. Men in suits and women in heels passed me like they had just nicked my wallet. They moved at business pace- fast enough to keep one dignified foot on the ground at all times. Both feet in the air was 'Missed Train Casual'. Effective albeit less dignified. I was moving at the speed of an unemployed gaper. Just slow enough for the cameras to keep a stern eye on my seemingly discreet actions.
Watching people's quirks and seeing the built elements ('things') in the city helped me get back in touch with the thought processes behind those quirks and creations. Guided by an excess of signs and lights, traffic moved in strict lines. The abundance of pubs and cafes spoke of leisure time and money. As did the CCTV cameras. Architecture was a large part of the re-acquaintance process too. It began with the Tate Modern and Global Cities and continued as I walked the streets. Lloyd's of London's headquarters was a particularly stunning surprise. The postmodern deconstruction showed its guts with grace. In a similar fashion as the Pompidou in Paris, the utilitarian elements (elevators, air vents, plumbing, etc.) were built on the exterior. The surprisingly clean aesthetic caught my eye from afar. Up close, the preserved façade of a previous Lloyd's building at the main entrance made a great juxtaposition of old and new. I later discovered that the building was designed to be modular, making it easily adaptable to changing times. The cranes from construction were left in place as an aesthetic, but they added to the idea of a persistently adapting creation. The building was a beacon of the broad cultural milieu that is London.
They may drive on the left and say the 'h' in herbs but comparatively, the English aren't vastly different from Americans. London had enough similarities with cities in the United States to serve as an initial re-entry step. I started seeing my heritage as an outsider. I noticed that people didn't take concern about wearing their shoes inside. And that I did. I saw Indian and Asian expats with a new eye and realized that for much of my life I paid little attention to people who had come to the United States from vastly different cultures. Perhaps the greatest gift of spending quality time away from home was the ability to return with new ideas about what it means to be at home. Without seeing cultural ideas as something that can be questioned or altered, one has no choice but to follow the prevailing wind. Oftentimes the simplest details have the most profound impacts. Seeing the details of what had been the essence of familiarity was a treat. London offered a glimpse into how far I had strayed from home.
The next morning I strolled through Hyde Park on my way from Paddington to central London. The overcast sky gave added strength to the colors of the gardens. The turf was a deep green and the flowers bloomed in bold yellows, reds, purples, and blues. People passed me at a much slower pace than those on the streets. Hyde was a testament to the value of providing open space in a bustling urban environment.
I wondered about the holes at Albert Hall and continued toward Buckingham where the tourists stacked against the fence waiting for the changing of the guard. My stroll ultimately ended at the plaza in front of the National Gallery. I proceeded to spend another day absorbing art. First, at the National Gallery seeing work by Da Vinci, Picasso, Rembrandt, Van Gogh, and Monet. Then venturing back to the Tate Modern for the Dali & Film exhibit. Film is an inherently surreal media and Dali was a connoisseur. His collaborations with Disney and Hitchcock were particularly captivating.
The mid-simmer sun didn't set until after ten. It was natural to sit for dinner at 10:30. I found an Indian restaurant not far from a café I enjoyed in Piccadilly Circus. For my last dinner abroad, an Indian dinner in London was the perfect choice. My palette and general demeanor were still more aligned with Indian ways. I was tempted to toss the utensils aside and eat with my fingers. Part of the adaptation process was getting used to being in an English speaking country. The curiosity from a year's worth of foreign background conversations made it impossible to tune people out. Everywhere I went I listened to every word I could catch. At the restaurant I wanted to just sit and eat. A couple at a nearby table was in the midst of a coldly emotional tiff. She cried in near silence while he gnashed with an icy whisper, "Why must you do this now?" Tension emanated from the table. I wanted to stop listening but my ears were honed in. Thankfully they left just as my food came and no other diners were in earshot. Although I ate with a fork, I was able to focus on the deliciousness of my dinner without getting distracted.
I returned to the room in Paddington, packed my bag at 1:30 in the morning, and checked out. The trains weren't running and I had to negotiate my way to the airport by bus while the pub crowd was negotiating its way home. Early the next morning I left for New York after a night without sleep.
