London : the city where the streets have no name.

(I’m sure Bono was inspired after getting thoroughly lost in this city.)

Today, the tube line where I am staying stopped functioning at 9 AM. I wanted to go Downtown nice and early, but what would have been a relatively quick and painless tube ride turned into a very long bus ride. That is, once I succeeded at getting on a bus, seeing that all the working people were rushing into and filling up the buses. I got to my destination (Trafalgar Square) an hour later… and got lost! Came back to Claire’s for lunch and afterwards decided to walk towards Hammersmith. I looked it up on the map. It seemed relatively easy. I had to go South West. Well I went South, to finally discover that I had gone East and that I had to go North if I wanted to go West. And of course, through it all, the streets have no signs with their name. If you are lucky, you can spot a building address with the street name included in it. And tube signs don’t necessarily have the tube station name on them either! This city is quite the guessing game! I asked directions from this one girl who suggested that I stay on the “main streets.” She laughed at my frustration and told me that she was also always lost when she first arrived here, 4 years ago.

I decided to complete my day with something safe: a walk along the South Bank, the route of which is delineated in my London Lonely Planet. It was late day and the walk was absolutely lovely. I saw the Globe -- I’ll ask Claire if she wants to go see a play there with me sometime next week. And Big Ben. And the Eye. Many, many, many pubs and eateries, all of which were quite full. Strange architecture. Old buildings and cobble stone passage ways cramped in with the ultra-modern glass buildings. A prison museum and the Tate Modern. And the Aquarium. South and North bank are quite different worlds, as different as the people who consort within their limits. Once, a Spanish-speaking girl asked me for directions. I wonder, do I look British?

I was pleasantly surprised at noticing the amount of runners this city has. The South bank is full of them. Something people seem to do quite a bit here is run, backpack bouncing around, from their work to home. Quite the time saver.

In London, most of the people I encounter are not from London. I listened for a while to a man play the cello along the South bank. Afterwards, I asked him if he gave lessons. He didn’t understand my question. He told me that he didn’t speak English. I asked him which language he speaks. He replied Polish, or German. I did not feel confident enough to try my elementary Dutch on him with the hopes that he’d make it out, so I rephrased my question. He answered that he plays Bach, and Ave Maria, and so forth. Useless. I smiled back at him and said thank you, and walked my way away.

On a final note, I am proud to say that I spent almost no money today. I “topped up” my Oyster (bus and metro) with 20 pounds (a necessity), put to pounds down for the Time Out magazine, to know how to take full advantage of the city this week, and gave 1.25 pounds to the Polish cello player. And that’s it. I’m so proud of myself! :-)