…regrets that I had only one week!
Week of density. Plans were adjusting, intentions correcting, sun played hide-and-seek, landscapes were changing rapidly, faces and mannerisms clicking into mental images of people I have only met online.
London was not what I expected. I thought I’ll see a sort of architectural museum: scaled up collection of periodic artifacts. And it was, but also it was something else – dynamic city, alive and moody, with its own style of street life.
Strangest thing, among a hundred of them, was the monarchy. Royal this and Her Majesty that is everywhere. But it’s not just street signs, like in Lvov or Evora; I had the weirdest feeling about locals’attitude towards monarchy…I have difficulty in formulating it. They like being subjects? partially, maybe. They are proud of history? yes, palpably. But also – they don’t feel like extras in a movie…it’s all completely natural to them, part of the world’s order. Here’s the Queen in her palace, here’s me, a railroad clerk at Paddington – each in the place where we belong.
I have reasoned that exchange being what it is, and Americans notoriously the biggest tourist group abroad, streets will be free from crowds of clueless visitors. Beep – wrong. Even avoiding obvious traps, like river boat tour or a British Museum, I was exposed to excessive humanity; too excessive for my taste. My intention was to observe the locals – not the noisy tourists. It’s amazing how quickly the perception adjusts to foreign realities – I was able to concentrate on natives and mentally filter out the outsiders practically in one day!
The crowd on the streets is very much mixed, but the mix itself is different from New York’s. Almost no Latinos; if someone speaks Spanish, he’s most likely from Spain – not Puerto Rico. Blacks are different, too – by body type as well as manners. More polite? Less aggressive? Definitely better dressed.
Now, about the clothes. London reputation for men in suites was confirmed – to my delight. Nowhere else I saw that many impeccably dressed men – fit, lean, sailing along with oiled grace in their tailored suites like fish in habitual scales; a city full of came-to-life adverts for bespoke industry; a feast for the eyes. Another pleasant difference with home: they aren’t afraid of complimenting a woman. On the street! Or from the next seat on a tube train! Although the double kiss greeting that Londoners have probably adopted from the French is a tad disturbing…well, I should say it depends on the company.
The women, however, disappoint. Two looks prevail – either the retired schoolteacher/paralegal, in their nondescript long dark skirts and unshapely jackets, or the bizarre “artistic” type: everything goes, in the most insecure and tasteless combination of kitsch sparklies with Louis Vuitton. Really chic women are rare; consistently only the Asians, like in NY, have style. And for some reason there is double number of overweight young women to that of man. And the very special, local fashion for the young of both sexes- horrifying raccoon eyes, angled bangs combed over the forehead, tight low-cut jeans and layered tees – would have induced quite a few giggles if appear here.
I’ll have to interrupt the report – it’s close to midnight, and tomorrow is a workday – but not before I post two photographs for my loyal readers.
One, for Gerard: this is the closest I came to Hadrian Wall. Alas!
The other – for Dick: haven’t been inside, but it sure was a pleasant surprise.
My deepest thanks to Helen, Brian, Michael and most of all, Irene and Lenny
TBC
It was very good to see you. I am very glad you liked London. I love it, as you probably realized. Sorry we didn’t manage a proper afternoon tea in a swanky hotel. Next time. 😉
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Sure, next time. I did manage to have a 5 o’clock tea with pastries (proper scones and clotted cream!), at the Stowe estate – that part is forthcoming.
Yes, I sort of got that impression, that London is your town – and very much grateful for everything that you showed me.
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Thanks for the photo. There might actually still be a remnant of the Texas Embassy in Paris, since the French recognized the Texas Republic in the 1830s-40s. The Brits never did. But a restaurant and grill is the next best thing!
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I knew you would like it.
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I do, but I misspoke. It was my recollection that the Brits didn’t recognize the Republic of Texas, but I checked the histories and I’m wrong. They did, along with France, the Netherlands and Belgium. The republic even sent a chargé d’affaires to England and France to establish trade relations. All-in-all, though, I’d prefer a restaurant. 😉
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All right, next time we’ll examine their BBQ.
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Actually it’s a very nice restaurant with a great bar where you can also have decent coffee and excellent key lime pie. I speak from experience. I have had their proper food as well and it is good.
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Helen: key lime pie is Floridian specialty; ask Dan from Madison, he had a post about baking one. (if it could be called “baking”). But I’m willing to put them on the list for the next time.
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“key lime pie is Floridian specialty”
That’s as may be. You can still get it in the Texas Embassy. Do you ever ask where the cheddar you eat comes from? Of course not. I shan’t bore you on the subject of banbury cakes.
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Cheddar? From all over the world. Although I can find sorts from Wisconsin. And Mozzarella – New Jersey. Still decent, price-and-quality-wise, compared to imported ones.
You like cheese? Then I know where to take you when you’re in NY.
Please do tell – what are those banbury cakes?
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Cheddar is not “decent”, Tatyana. It’s a great cheese and it has to be produced in the Cheddar Gorge, though there is quite a good one from the Isle of Mull. I should have taken you to some cheese shops. I did find some good cheese in NY when I was there but not, definitely not cheddar from Wisconsin. Still, you prove my point. One can get good key lime pie in the Texas Embassy.
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The important thing with the foodstaffs is not to be fanatical. Or people would never drink Californian Syrah, and that’s a fantastic wine.
But when a restaurant claims in its name a specific regional association, a customer expects to find on their menu the dishes that make famous that particular region. Not karibu from Alaska, not Brooklyn beer brews, and not Key West lime pie – all those famous staples of OTHER American regions.
If a restaurant was named Cheddar, I would expect to find there authentic original Cheddar, and not the one from Wisconsin.
When a restaurant calls itself a Texas Embassy, they proudly serve BBQ to their guests – not key lime pie.
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Tatyana,
As a displaced Texan living on the West Coast, I sure love that picture of the Texas Embassy.
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I like it too, although I’ve never been to TX.
Just noticed something: see how the Restaurant and grill‘ background is more fresh and bright than the Texas Embassy‘s? I think it is newer; the sign was probably added as an afterthought.
Could it be, possibly, that people came inquiring for the Ambassador of Texas to that address?
Just fantasizing.
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