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Lost in Translation

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A Few Odd Photos from London

Here's what you've been dying for all week, a few pictures from my walking around London for two days. I have tons and tons more, but they can get boring. I did wander away from the tourist hubs to get an idea of what the city is like for those who live there, as I did with most cities I went to. Usually I didn't take my iPhone when going out at night, so there aren't going to be any friendly faces, just touristy pulp. It's exciting to observe the oddities of a city from another culture. Each little one provides you with a new nugget of information with which to understand folks (or realize how much you don't).

Here's a strange barrier on the sidewalk outside of the Houses of Parliament. I guess this is to make sure cars don't hop on the sidewalk, and I'm glad they chose such a reasonable and predictable shape.



Some ferris wheel and some building.



A picturesque little street near the Thames on the south side.



Austin's is better.



A blurry carbon-fiber body BMW M3 in a showroom. It was so pretty.

A building on Victoria St. that might be worth visiting if you're into photography. Lots of angles and lines and colors and reflective glass.

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Located in Regents' Park, this is a sculpture honoring the puma, the famed mascot of Springfield Elementary School.



You can't see it well here, but as I was walking around Primrose Hill (a hill in London with open green fields at the top of which you catch an incredible skyline of the whole city) and about 30 horses ridden by officially-dressed men slowly trotted on by, much to the incredible disappointment of the folks in these cars, I'm sure. Also, it smelled.



And here's that view from Primrose Hill. This area (the same as the above picture) is steeped in money, since it's quiet and peaceful (right next to Regents' Park) yet close to the center of the city. Walk around and you'll see some beautiful cars (Aston Martins and whatnot) guarded behind gates.


Anyways, that's some of what I saw in London, clearly besides the typical sights. One of my favorite encounters was near Buckingham Palace. I was trying to get around the gargantuan abode to get to the train station, so I asked one of the policefolk guarding the area (and thus partly responsible for the safety of the queen). He was a very nice person, and, well, he embodied dry cynical British sarcasm.

"So how do I get to Victoria Station?" 

"Yeah it's the queen's birthday next week. Her official one, rather. She gets two, reasonably. So things are closed off for a practice run for her parade. She gets a parade, reasonably. I think we had a pretty big one a few weeks ago, but that's alright.  Anyways it's going to be a pain in the ass."

I say thanks and he points me in the right direction, and I start to walk off. Now, on this side of Buckingham Palace, there are two nearly identical paths to get out, a giant open walkway, and another smaller sidewalk running right next to it.

He says "Oh wait. Now this is going to sound stupid, because it is, but you can't walk along that open walkway, because clearly since nobody at all is using it, you shouldn't either because in six hours a fake parade is going to march down that way. If you walk there..." 

"You'll have to shoot me?" Now at this point, I immediately regret saying that, because it feels akin to yelling "BOMB" in an airport. But...

"Well, I think the queen herself will shoot you." 

Charming. I love you, London.

It's All About the Benjamins

Dear Diary,

I'm going to talk about cashmoney, the paper notes we use every day and are based on some form of currency. Why is cashmoney useful? Well, ancient civilizations used to use other materials for exchange such as cocoa beans, but trading cocoa beans instead of eating them is actually the highest form of heresy of which the human soul is capable. So eventually, instead of accepting beans (magical or chocolaty) as payment, people started making coins and paper with people's faces on them. At this point you can tell I don't actually know much about this subject. Anyways, someone also got fed up with all of the cashmoney in their pocket being crumpled and wadded up, so they invented the wallet. The wallet became a worldwide phenomenon, and soon enough, people were also putting their health insurance cards and credit cards and library cards and Lego Club cards in their sweet cashjackets. Most of these cards had a particular height, and if the cashmoney was also of a similar height, the wallet could be limited in size. Obviously, a wallet from a particular region was typically adequate in size for the cashmoneys being used in that region. It's no mistake that the United States dollar works well with the Animaniacs wallet I had in third grade.

But what happens when someone from a country with smaller (and less blind-friendly) cashmoney goes to multiple regions with mutant steroid-infused godzillabills almost twice the height of standard business and credit cards? And what if those same regions don't accept credit cards with the same near-ubiquity of the originating country? Lots of big cashmoney ends up in small cashjackets, and almost everyone loses, especially these folks.

Yeah so, Euro, Pound, and Rupee notes don't fit too well in my ShyamIshanee wallet that I love. No big deal though. Anyways, I'm in India. Retrospective posts to come.

P.S. Regarding the title, I intended (and still intend) to use the title "It's All About the Belgian Ones" or something equally stupid for a blogpost, so look forward to that.

Cigarettes in the UK

We should do something like this.

Alright, I'll Post

I apologize for the stark lack of content. I'll do better by throwing up brief posts. Writing a lot always seems daunting when you just have an iPhone and you're very busy. I'll give y'all some highlights right now and post more often from now on, retroactively describing London, Sevilla, Granada, and Barcelona later. So here goes.

1) London washed over me with all that inexplicable charm with which it did my first time there. Maybe it's because the culture is just slightly different, or maybe it's the fact that this world of charming accents and perpetual dry sarcasm suits me well. Either way, I adore that place. I've re-decided that I want to live there for at least a little while. Three Brits I struck up a conversation with one night actually argued about the relevance of the monarchy. How absolutely cute. Crispy M&Ms still exist there. I fainted.

2) Sevilla was brief but a thrill. I was stunned by the richness of the architecture and how fun the people were. I almost stayed one extra day. However, I'm glad I didn't, because...

3) Granada was divine. The hostel was a breeding ground for random people coming together with ease. My first night there I got in at 8pm ready to relax. A Tapas tour at 9? Perfect! I enjoyed the people I met on that 3 hour escapade. It's incredible how an atmosphere can attract a certain kind of people. That first evening in Granada and the next made me fall in love with the hostel experience. Yeah, you don't get all the comforts of your own living space, but if you forgo that for a little while (or splurge on your own private room), you get dunked into a sticky vat of touch-and-go friendships stuffed with the opportunity for personal growth and immersion in rich culture, without ever really grounding yourself. At the Oasis Hostel in Granada, we got just that. After touring the Al-Hambra during my second day, I sat on the couch in the main area and got beckoned to dinner with a bunch of other sole travelers. We all eventually became close, to the point that I stayed an extra day and forewent some time in Barcelona. Also, since our hostel was in an Arabian district, we ate so many kebabs. Ugh, so painfully good. Almost Kebabalicious, but not quite like home (authenticity begone). Alright, more on this later.

4) Barcelona is a surprisingly incredible world city, but because I missed my Granada friends (I get attached easily) and the relaxed life there, I didn't enjoy the city as much as I could have. That being said, my friend Antonella showed us a nightclub where we got free-flowing popcorn! I barely even like popcorn, but it certainly provided a few kernels of joy. This night going out in Barcelona reflects one common topic in hostels about Spanish culture: the youth enjoy staying out until the sun peaks its blasted yellow head out the next day.

5) In general, traveling alone can be refreshing. You move on your own terms and meet people constantly. I feel like I can't shift my body without stumbling across someone who is eager for a conversation and a quick dive into someone else's head. Imagine the territorial and economic frustrations that for some have defined human history and then imagine today vast arrays of cultures colliding here and there, thrilled by each other, sharing deep laughs and talking for hours. It all reminds me of one of my favorite "life lessons" that holds true especially when dealing with others: our differences in understanding and how we each live feel as big or as small as we allow them to feel. It's all about perspective. The fact that you drink whole milk and I drink skim can br trivial or vital; there's no objectively wrong "level of importance." It's healthy to try to crawl into someone else's perspective, and even if solo travels and hostels serve as a specific type of people (the ones who'd be okay with traveling like that), they still provide at least some kind of rich avenue for expanding one's understanding of the human condition.

At the airport, ready to fry away

I'm at Bush airport in Houston waiting for my flight, and I'm hungry. The only viable option seems to be McDonald's. I think I'll wait until London.

On another note, this flight, which stops in Atlanta where I switch, continues on to Lagos. I didn't know this when I got to the gate where several people were wearing traditional Nigerian attire. Imagine my confusion.