I’m not going to lie to you: I’m very much attracted to the remote, utterly different parts of this planet. I enjoyed trips to New Zealand, Japan and Thailand far more than any trip I took across Europe (and there were quite a few).
But, lately, my job required me to travel to London. I did this twice in the last 3 months, so the memories are still fresh.
To my surprise, London was a very elusive city. I would have expected a more solid, definable experience than the fuzzy, always eluding string of words that I got.
Of course, it’s a cosmopolite city. But so it’s Paris. Of course, it’s filled with history and beautiful architecture. But so it’s Rome. Of course, it’s very expensive. But so it’s Geneva.
What Actually Makes London, London?
Well, touristically, it may start with the double deck red buses. They’re literally all over the place and, although modernized and far from the conservatory shape we see in adverts, they’re ubiquitous. The touristic description may continue with the pubs. Along with all the brits hanging out (sometimes literally, on the sidewalks) like bats sipping the brownish blood of some alien species. Judging from the never ending thirst they exhibit for that liquid, it must have been the blood of somebody. Couldn’t have been just beer. Or so I think.
And, obviously, the huge white wheel incessantly occupied by cohorts of always hasty tourists.
But that’s just all there is to the touristic side.
From this point on, there is a very interesting journey to the inner parts of what makes London, London.
Apocalypse, Now!
During the 15 days I’ve been there I almost never took the subway (nor other type of public transportation, like taxis or buses).
There are two reasons for that.
First, I’m an ultra runner and part of my training is to just walk. A lot. On a normal day I walk around 10-15km. So once I saw myself in a foreign city, I just jumped on the opportunity to see it without any touristic intermediary, step by step.
And the second reason, well, it’s something that starts to explain the “apocalyptic” word in the title. I don’t know about you, but I have a very powerful sensation of uncertainty in the London subway. The paths are incredibly narrow, the rail is way bigger (or so it seems) and the platforms are most of the time narrower than the trains. It’s like you’re pushed to jump into the train as fast as possible and spend as little time as possible on the platforms.
And some of the escalators are so tilted that you start losing whatever spatiality you may have left after being squeezed and pushed around. I surprised myself a few times hanging tight to the handrail, just because it was so difficult to find a point of equilibrium.
And, once in the train, there’s the sensory attack: the eyes are overwhelmed with adverts and, most of all, with incredibly complicated schemes of the subway stations. It’s like a never ending rainbow of spaghetti spreading on top of the windows, with circles every once in a while, and the names of the stations around those circles.
And if the eyes get used to this, after a while, there’s the sound: specifically, the woman voice making the announcements. That voice reminds me of an apocalyptic movie called Brasil (by Terry Gilliam). In a monotonous voice she urges you, sometimes two or three times in a row, to understand where you are and what you have to do next to escape from that prison. And you have very, very little time to get up and down. I saw people literally jumping from their chairs to get out, or piercing through the already closing doors to get in.
It’s like a continuous, chaotically man hunt. The subway is eating the people and then it spits them out, just to eat them again at the next station.
Weird. And, as I said, apocalyptic.
Anyway, once out, on the streets, the hidden parts of London are slowly starting to get out. From Victoria Park to Soho and from Regent’s Canal up to Camden market, from Tower Bridge to London Eye, there is a certain air and feeling that starts to define London.
It’s a certain solidity that exudes from the buildings (by the way, I’m absolutely sure I have never, ever seen so much bricks in my entire life) and there is a certain feeling of being exact, in some sort of an engineering way. Although you cannot see the sea, you somehow understand that these people were great sailors. It’s probably because they built most of their buildings like ships (no balconies, for instance).
And just when you think you started to get it, the evening comes.
And when the evening comes, the pubs are starting to gather around them the bats. I have nothing against drinking beer (big fan of it, actually) but there’s something going on in those pubs, when the evening starts. Nobody’s talking. I swear. Out of curiosity, I entered in about 20 or 30 pubs (in one of them I even had some great craft beer) and in none of them people were talking.
They were all shouting.
Loud. Like, really loud. Like you’re somewhere in the countryside and the person you’re talking to is just across the river, 200 meters away and you have to spit your lungs out just to make yourself noticed. It’s not like the person is actually sitting next to you.
And everybody shouts at everybody. That’s another apocalyptic trait of London that I was never prepared for.
And then, after the night, the dawn breaks out. Half of the people are still processing the beers (you can tell them by the lack of direction in their eyes, slow movements and overall body posture) while the other half is running. Many people are running their way to the job, carrying in a small backpack the office clothing and probably some shower gear (towels and basic cosmetics). That’s something that I really enjoyed.
And then, there’s the parks. It’s an incredible contrast between the parks, with wide alleys and huge trees and the subway. It’s like the subway was designed like some sort of punishment while the parks as some sort of paradisiac retreat. I walked on quite a few parks in London and all of them were quiet, decent, incredibly clean (although you can hardly see any garbage bin) and fresh.
And, once the dawn vanishes and everybody is turning the wheels of whatever they’re doing, everything starts again.
I still don’t know how to define London. Maybe that’s why I have to admit I really like it.
I'm a serial entrepreneur, blogger and ultrarunner. You can find me mainly on my blog at Dragos Roua where I write about productivity, business, relationships and running. Here on Steemit you may stay updated by following me 
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