London Fog in the Sunshine
Some of the best travel opportunities arise spontaneously. My trip to London went from an idea to tickets booked in a day, just six sleeps before the transatlantic flight. Solo travel is the perfect opportunity for profound self-reflection. During a period of some major life changes, I learned to embrace the winds of change and found strength through the sun in a new city, working through my internal fog.
Between landing at Gatwick Airport and taking a train up north, enough time remained to see stunning Regents Park. Although the incredible park was once King Henry III’s private hunting forest, it first opened to the public in 1841 and continues to be an unmissable green space. The lush gardens teem with colorful flowers and wildlife. Aromatic smells hit your noise and in the morning all is still and quiet except for birdsong from warblers, woodpeckers and thrushes. It would have been impossible to ask for a more peaceful start.
I walked to Victoria Station to meet up with my mate and take the train to Manchester. He showed up late but the ticket inspector waved us on the next train, good lad. The weight of our holy pilgrimage dawned on us while we sped through the rolling English countryside. Football is our religion. Visiting Old Trafford, the Theatre of Dreams and home to Manchester United, was akin to a trip to Temple Mount.
Manchester is a well-balanced and honest city, mixing its working-class and industrial heritage with trendy street fashion stores and vintage shops spread throughout aging red-brick buildings. Where else can you get coffee and Carhartt then at the Carhartt coffee shop? Other luxury street fashion stores sat right next to the local pubs with dim lights and pulled cask ales in a fitting Mancunian manner.
The game at Old Trafford fulfilled years of dreams. I’ve not yet been to heaven– don’t anticipate a trip there anytime soon – but surely this is what they were talking about. Goosebumps hit us as soon as the stadium came into view and for ninety glorious, absolutely glorious minutes, we cheered on the reds with the ultra faithful fans in the Stretford End. It took chants of “Attack! Attack! Attack!” for United to find a 75th minute winner, but it was worth the wait. Frenzied fans erupted in a deafening roar of jubilation. Like any experienced football fan, we celebrated with late night kebabs outside our hostel.
The next morning we were still buzzing from the game and had only sport on our minds. We visited the National Football Museum for over an hour to admire artifacts and interactive exhibits outlining the nearly two century history of the beautiful game. Our spirits remained high on the train back to London and we said adieu on a rooftop bar overlooking Victoria Square’s bustling theater district. A quick ride on the Metro took me to the flat of my good friend who had moved to the city just two days before my arrival. While he worked during the day I explored, and during the nights we had great banter and high times back together again — cheers, mate.
A lovely morning stroll through idyllic Regents Park.
Theatre of Dreams.
Marcus Rashford, a superstar and inspiration on and off the pitch.
London's iconic red double decker buses outside Victoria Station.
In no place is London’s polite and organized society more apparent than in its Underground. Signage and announcements are comically civil. Stand right and walk left, please. Please tap your card to enter and exit at the (sometimes ungated) metro entrance. This train is quite full, so please consider taking the next train which is 2 minutes away. We sincerely apologize for any inconvenience or delay to your travel. The long escalator ride down to the cavernous and sweaty stations is worth the frequent trains rushing by on a mechanical schedule. All stations are so interconnected that one can traverse the entire city in any cardinal direction without needing to transfer above ground.
For breakfast I checked out Harrods Cafe. Escalators coated in gold led up several floors up through the luxury department store rife with designer fashion, home goods, and furniture. My first English Breakfast tea was grand, and the braffle– a love story dish of brioche meets waffle– exceeded all expectations as a sweet fusion between two remarkably compatible breakfast items. The desire to peruse expensive and ornate luxury goods did not strike me, so I instead bought some gifts at the reasonably priced food hall and markets on the first floor.
One of the most unique ways to learn about a country’s culture is through portraiture. All the humans who made a great impact on a nations’s history, politics, science, technology, math, art, music, religion and more are on display. The National Portrait Gallery in London hosts over 12,700 portraits and 220,000 works, an eye-popping yet somewhat logical number given the number of influential British figures. William Shakespeare, the Beatles and others give company to innumerable portraits of royalty— they seem to really like getting their picture done.
Like Ella Fitzgerald, I had to swing at The Savoy for afternoon tea, a splendid London experience. The circular room exudes unquestionable elegance. Its white walls are as pristine as the notes coming from the piano, with sweet renditions of classics and twists on modern tunes. Tea is served hot and makes the perfect pair for afternoon sandwiches and cakes which are delicately crafted. Although not advertised, you can order more of any sandwich or cakes that suit your fancy. A guest list of stars who stayed at the Savoy is extensive and includes Al Jolson, Cary Grant, Frank Sinatra, Marilyn Monroe, George Gershwin, Bob Dylan and Ernest Hemingway among the greats.
Both the host and server had to twice confirm my table would be for one and not two. A bit of frustration must have been on my face because a new server came to the table and relayed her own experiences solo traveling. We chatted about our adventures and it made me feel much less alone. Following the extraordinary meal, she brought over one extra cake on a plate containing a chocolate drizzled message: Welcome to London. Small acts of kindness are so easy, and her gesture truly made my day.
The one and only braffle hollandaise.
Swingin' at the Savoy
Welcomed to London with some kindness.
Bong bong
I started the next day with a heaping British breakfast of eggs, beans, toast, sausage, bacon, fried tomatoes and fried mushrooms. Fortunately, the walk to Primrose Hill was long and steep. By the time I reached the top, I had probably burned off most of the calories. The climb was well worth it. All of London’s skyline lay ahead. From Canary Wharf at the eastward extent to west London, one can see iconic landmarks from all eras including St. Paul’s Cathedral, the Shard, BT Tower and the London Eye. It was a simple reminder of the city’s storied history and growth. Under the sun I read, dug life, napped and dreamed of tales from days of ye olden London days.
London has lots of museums, some big and some small, but one niche stop called my undivided attention. The Charles Dickens Museum is located in the King’s Cross home which the Victorian author rented between 1837 and 1839, writing the prolific novels Oliver Twist and Nicholas Nickleby. Well-preserved artifacts like his writing desk, dining room and personal correspondence preserve the greatness of one of England’s most influential writers. A new exhibit on the once infamous London Fog and the inspiration it served for Dickens got me thinking about how Hard Times and imagination go hand in hand.
Strolling around the city without any Great Expectations, I ended up at St. Paul’s Cathedral just before Evensong. There are few feelings better than showing up unplanned at the right time. All are welcome to enjoy the choral evening prayer which echoes beautifully throughout the spacious baroque nave. A church dedicated to Paul the Apostle has stood on the same site since 605 AD, and the present building has existed for over half a millenia. It is special to enjoy song, regardless of one’s religious inclinations, in that magnificent space. Music exists as one of the most pure expressions for our love for life.
After getting my fill of song at St. Paul’s I walked near London Bridge for a cheeky pint by the river. The area was abuzz with men in powder blue button downs and women in suit pants. A rope penned in us drinkers by the embankment like farm animals while posh diners enjoyed cold oysters and chilled bottles of wine. The oysters must have been refreshing, but the symposium— which meant drinking together, in Ancient Greece— of loud drinkers was surely more interesting. Some Londoners told me they got out a kick out of my A Short History of London book and my American accent. Everyone knows the sinners are much more fun.
I polished off my pint and headed to Tower Bridge to watch the sunset, a spot a friend mentioned would be perfect for reflection. He was right. Evening’s last rays of light set the sky ablaze. All the challenges of recent months melted. I had managed to travel to yet another international city, see the sights, feel the energy, make memories with friends, learn the culture and connect with myself. The uncertainty I worked through, thick grey clouds of self doubt and loneliness, dissipated into the wine dark river.
But dinner approached and taking the Underground would have delayed me. The trains in London may be fast, the boats are even faster. I spotted an Uber Boat and hopped on the ten-minute ride to Canary Wharf for just a few pounds. We pulled away from the dock and the boat took us eastward on the Thames. A glass of prosecco kept me company. With the sun dipping below the horizon, a tangerine sky created a sharp contrast with the dark silhouette of Tower Bridge. It stood strong until the boat turned a bend and it slipped out of sight. The air rushed all around and reinforced me with hope.
At night I took a midnight stroll by the Thames in East London. Mist settled low and wind blew on the riverbank, small waves lapping the shore. Clouds blocked the faint moonlight and blurred city lights. But I didn’t mind. Throughout the London fog I felt only internal warmth and sunshine, resilience and resolve, excitement and confidence to work through a hazy future and succeed in a new chapter.
Behold, London lays before you.
Charles Dickens' magnificent writing desk.
A cheeky pint by the river and informative read.
Floating away from Tower Bridge and the sunset.