A Few Notes

Last couple days haven't been too active. We're beginning to get into actual classes and doing actual homework.
Two days ago, Jena and I went to Hyde Park to walk around and take a few shots for our photoblog and we saw the cutest puppies. They looked like toys.

Yesterday was another blah kind of day. It would rain and stop and rain and stop, so you couldn't exactly go to a park. And we were tired from all the walking we've been doing. We ended up hunting for a pub called the Golden Hind, didn't find it. Then again, we really didn't look that hard.

We did however feel like we were in the middle east for about 15 minutes. The whole neighborhood west of Marbel Arch was plastered in signs reading Arabic. It was a miracle to see anything in english.

I felt kind of sad going through that neighborhood because it really made me notice how the U.K. is really loosing its Britishness. In addition, it's now the new struggle of most E.U. countries that are trying to preserve who they are with these new migration schemes occurring.

And now I have a sore throat. And I leave for Paris on Thursday. Faaaaaaantastic.

Old Brompton, the bane of my existance.

I have a love-hate relationship with Old Brompton Road.

Yesterday as I was walking, I took a turn wanting to walk back to my flat on a street parallel to the one I had been on. Long story short, I got lost. Walked on such small dinky streets, that I couldn't even find them on google maps when I did get home.

But I made my way back and ended up on Old Brompton Road.

Today, same thing happened with more misfortune. I got lost, and again found myself walking on Old Brompton. God knows how or why.

I decided to make the best of it, considering the fact that I refused to look like a tourist and whip out my map in front of everyone.

So I kept walking.

On my left hand side, after a few blocks, I noticed an entrance to what appeared to be a cemetery. I thought, Why not?

So I waltzed in as if that had been my destination from the beginning, walking around the tourists who stood by the gate confused which way to go.



I happen to like visiting graveyards and cemeteries for the history of them. Sometimes one can find so many interesting people buried in them without even realizing it.

The cemetery had an oval layout with a combination of crypts and headstones of extravagance and of modesty.

And as I so casually strolled through the paths alongside the graves, I happened to look and catch sight of a grave of a Polish General who had fought in WWII and against communism. I'm glad no one was around because I could only feel tears coming down my face, as I stood in awe.


I suppose I was also in awe of my luck to have found this cemetery by pure chance rather than having planned a visit. And I stood in awe, because of the hero buried in the grave in front of me.

But my adventure did not end then. I decided to continue with my pilgrimage to Portobello Market. I was determined to find a cheap and effective watch. I took a break while alone on a bench and carefully examined my map, without any admittance to being a tourist.

I made my way to Holland Park and became disoriented yet again.

I should explain that in London, there are no street signs. You won't see an elevated sign with the name of the street on a main intersection. You might come across the name on the street posted on a building, if you're in luck.

So I stood across from Holland Park and decided to go in and take a look. I happened to see three different regiments of the Royal British Military. I gasped. What luck! The cemetery and now this?

I walked in and gawked at all the men and women in uniform, admiring them from a distance. They stood there for a while until they commenced their march. I followed them for a while, and what a good thing that was. Everyone in the stores and on the streets came out and applauded for the troops.

Side note, by following them I found my way back home.

Even though I'm exhausted from walking practically all day long, I can't complain. I loved every minute of being in the cemetery and watching the soldiers.

Seriously, what's with all the planes?

I've been in London a week now, well actually a week and three days. But who's counting? Now to the point, no matter where I am nor what time it is. I can look up into the sky and be guaranteed to see at least three planes within minutes if not seconds of each other. As I write this sentence I can hear one right outside of my flat window. So I have to ask, what is with all these planes circling over the city of London?

Is it traffic at Heathrow? I know when my plane was coming in, even though it was delayed due to weather conditions, we had to circle up above London for an extra twenty minutes. I didn't mind much since I had a double window seat and saw all the tourist spots from an elevation of around 11,000 feet. But for such a huge airport with three other international airports within reach of another, you have to ask yourself is it more than just traffic?

No, I think. Actually I think it's a tourism ploy. Many people use Heathrow as a way of connecting to other flights. That's a fact. Now, what if these people saw Big Ben or Parliament from the skies, would they become enticed to come back to the U.K., specifically London?

I think so. And with that thought, I'll explain something. When I was looking through my double window seat and saw the Thames River, I became excited. I thought that in a few moments I will be able to see the city of London. My future home of six weeks, and eventually maybe longer.

So as I sat there in anticipation and doubt whether I had correctly identified the river, I saw him. It. My mouth gasped open. Tears came to my eye, as they still do when I remember that feeling. It was a feeling of joy. Of coming back home. Then I saw Parliament when I blinked. It stood next to Ben, situated on the river.

The man next to me must have thought that I was a tourist or out of my mind. Probably both. But I knew what I felt. I felt like I had returned home. I was in Europe once more. My mother continent. As I continued to fly over the city and reach the airport, one feeling came into my head.

"Aah." That sound of relief.

That's what I felt when I came into the airspace of this city. I've never been here, but that's what I felt. So maybe if flying over London for twenty minutes can make me feel that, it can provoke others to feel something as well. Maybe not necessarily what I did, but a sense of wanting to see the city.

One of the mysteries of the human is what he feels when he sees something through a lens or picture and when he sees the same object up close.

So yes, flying for twenty minutes over London is a built in British Airways commercial. Get ready for it when you fly.