London Part 1

So nabura yung folder full of pictures sa flashdisk ko. It got replaced by an empty folder with an unreadable name. I have no idea how it happened. Crap.

But just so you know, I did have fun in London. I was there during the mildest winter London has had in 90 years. Whoa! I don't know if I should feel lucky about not freezing to death, or dismayed at the effects of global warming. Flowers were blooming where frost should've been! Squirrels were out, the grass was greener than ever (people were buying lawn mowers. In the middle of winter!). On one hand it led to higher yields from orchards and farms, but the disastrous effects of climate change apparent in animal and plant life cannot be ignored, either. Newborns could not cope with the "early spring" for example, and animals in hibernation could no longer, well, hibernate.

It was such a weird episode in London this time of year, and everyone noticed.

Anyway. I wonder how I could begin to describe the city that I'd only seen in postcards and read about in The History of the World and my grandmother's fascinating books on old royalty.

Hmm. Top of my head I'd say it's very quick, full of life, funny and quirky in some instances, heavy, dark and brooding in others.

But what really surprised me was how people treat the city with such...good-natured irreverence, if ever there is such. What can I say, it's the British humor I so love.

The urban landscape says it all. On one side of the River Thames stands the Westminster Abbey and Big Ben: large, historic, undeniably majestic. You can sense the weight of its presence, and the onus is upon you to pay respect. Meanwhile across the river, a stone's throw away, is the London Eye: cutting edge structure, modern steel and glass, and quite imposing as only a glorified ferris wheel can be. It evokes youthfulness, excitement and a bit of humor - right now one viewing pod is painted bright red, a funny aberration among the all-clear, space-age viewing pods.

Upon first glimpse you'd think, well this ain't right. How unbalanced, conflicting...disjointed. The Eye looks frivolous compared to the purposeful Abbey, and yet the Abbey looks a tad bit tired and boring amidst the flurry of activity on the other side of river. What kind of urbanity does this depict? Why, it's no better than the unplanned, incoherent cities of the Third World! I pointed this out to Duncan while walking along the river bank, and he made a remark that left me silent and thoughtful. He said, "well, that's the beauty of it you see." I strained. He continued. "What do you think would happen if we stopped building new structures? If we get stuck in the old and not move forward?" He almost questioned the rationale of leaving old things old and untouched. What I saw as a desecration of a glorious past, he saw as ever constant and positive movement.

I stopped and looked again at the London Eye and the Abbey. From an angle you can capture both in one frame of a photograph. Standing side by side, they were, indeed, beautiful - separately and together.

Cruising along River Thames you can see the same thing happening everywhere. Old buildings mixed with new, the former just as beautiful as the latter. The new Office of Mayor looks like it's been uprooted out of a Dubai location and transplanted onto the Thames riverbank. A few steps from that futuristic building is a replica of The Globe Theater (the original was destroyed), and the old pub where Shakespeare and friends used to drink themselves blind. It's open to this day.

In this city everything has a purpose. Duncan pointed out the pathway leading to Buckingham Palace. It's for the queen and dignitaries visiting the queen, "but it's also a road, it leads to places, so we use it." Nothing goes to waste, nothing is left unremembered, or taken for granted, or lost in vain. The old pathways work just as well as the new ones. Trains, built in the Victorian times, have been built to last and are still being used. They are very old, yes, but terribly on time (Proof? I missed my train by two seconds.). Even then, they are up for some refurbishment, so Transport for London is once again having them upgraded. Panels across the platforms are being stripped away, revealing old signage. They are again to be replaced to serve the present generation of commuters, like they have done so for more than a hundred years.

Everywhere something new is being built - as evidenced by the countless gantry cranes dotting the sky - and something old is being reused, refitted, reborn. Everyday. It never stops. The city is always in the making. And yet everywhere something old is being preserved or protected, from houses where poets once lived ("xxxx used to live here") to a memorial for the all the valuable things that England "nicked" from Egypt.

It's paradoxical, in a way. Tiny streets and big taxis, roadside parking and huge avenues. Extremely proper manners (no texting during meetings, no sir!) and loud, potbellied, thigh-slapping tour guides. But I think what Duncan was trying to say is that, whatever happens, London is ever alive in the present. And it is. It truly is a living, breathing history, one that has its pulse on the present and future.

By lunchtime on my last day, I finally got rid of all the preconceptions I had about London. Now all I had to do was find my way to shopping heaven. Or hell?