Day 2- London
The first day after any international flight is always a strange
one. Your body is telling you it’s time to sleep but the city is indicating the
day has just begun. The cool morning breeze, the bustling traffic and men in
crisp suits are all signs of an awakening London.
It’s always a blur, that first day, a combination of an out of
body experience and your senses tingling with every new smell, touch and site.
A Costa coffee, an introduction to our guides, a bus ride from Heathrow and one
Adele album later, we arrived at Wembley to leave all our luggage, power
through the jetlag and head on into the city.
London, the metropolis I grew to love without realizing. The
first time I visited was at the age of sixteen and I was homesick and hanging
on to a crush back home that soon fizzled out. Maybe it was due to my first taste
of jetlag, hitting me with full force or maybe it was immaturity, but I
disliked London quickly.
Years later, I met Mark and soon came the time to travel alone
overseas for the first time in order to spend time with him. And then, without
a killer dose of jetlag and hand in hand with a local, it was like I had met
city for the first time.
Since then every time I visit it feels familiar and clear. When I
step into her, touch her, I recognize her and she recognizes me back. England
is so different from where I grew up, possibly the complete opposite, yet I can
call her my home, a place I miss and its memories are alive inside me even as
time passes.
London is the city where I learned my independence and let
my freak flag fly, where I feel capable. London embodies late nights and long
walks that are never tiring. It is my seasonal affair and comforting cups of
tea. I know the city, the underground maps and I never feel lost or alone in
it.
Now, after more than a year, I was back and I was with Mark once
again. I hugged him hard and relished the deep sound of his voice as he kissed
my cheek, the way he had eight months ago. Even though we hadn’t been face to
face for the better part of the year, it always felt familiar and comforting to
see him.
But our reunion was cut short when the guides scurried us to the
tube, like lost little baby chicks, and we headed to Central London for our
first quintessential English experience. Fish and Chips. If you’ve ever had the
signature dish before, you know it can go incredibly great –flaky moist fish
with a crunchy beer batter exterior fried to perfection- or horribly wrong –
soggy, pale looking piece of fish next to frozen, out of the box chips.
Our fish and chips were the latter; a testament to English
cuisine the way Taco Bell represents authentic Mexican food. It just wasn’t.
But rule number two to beat the jetlag is to eat, preferably clean food, but
nonetheless eat. First rule is to hydrate. So we ate as much as we could of the
overly oily fish and left the pub.
Luckily we were nearby one of my favorite areas of London, just a
few blocks away from the beautiful St. Paul’s Cathedral and for the next hour,
we were allowed to just be, walk and let realization kick in. Feeling somewhat
self confident of understanding my surroundings (classic British Wanna Be
syndrome), I urged my people –Mother, Aunt and Mark- to head down to one of my
favorite walks in the city.
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After passing St. Paul’s, we took a right and followed the signs
that led us to cross the Thames via the the Millennium Bridge and down to the
South Bank. I’ve walked over this bridge several times with Mark holding hands
and the view of the city and Tower Bridge still surprises me. I can’t help but
walk slower, even as the steel bridge shakes and trembles with every step
people take.
Even though we are immediately greeted by The Globe Theatre, the
reconstruction of Shakespeare’s theatre of centuries ago, I never forget to
turn around after crossing the bridge and admire how it peeks out through the
buildings and the river.
The view of the sleek metal bridge leading your eye to the
majestic form of the cathedral reminds me I’m in a city that has blended
perfectly the old with the new. And I think that is my favorite part of London.
The key to curing jetlag is to not trust that shot of dopamine
ensued by finally arriving at your destination. That dopamine will turn on you
in a few hours and it will be replaced by grogginess, slow motion movement and your
brain being invaded with the phrase ‘where the hell am I?”
So we settled for one more stroll through Leicester Square and
witnessed a crowd shrieking and waiting in line by the Empire Cinema. Turns
out, Katy Perry’s Part of Me was premiering and I managed to get a
glimpse of Katy’s bright pink hair as she entered the theater surrounded by
five body guards. Bonus, but I’m more of a Lady Gaga kind of person.
After a quick dinner, we decided to quit while we were ahead and
we made our way back to the hotel. It had been the first time I’d managed a
successful jetlag free day after a long trip. I slept soundly for a good four
hours and at around three o’clock in the morning, I opened my eyes long enough
to assess my unfamiliar surroundings and mumble ‘where the hell am I?’
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