This was written on the day of, but hours before, the recent terror attacks in London, in particular at Borough Market.
Over the past few days, I have had a lot about big moments, seen a lot of impressive sights, and been to many meaningful places, and certainly when I think back on my first time in London, I will probably remember seeing the Rosetta Stone, or the incredible way that Westminster Abbey and its stunning architecture made me feel (i.e., very religious, more than I’ve felt in my life), or sitting in the Palace Theatre watching a show that I never imagined being able to get tickets to see.
But when I tell you that I love London, I want you to know that I fell in love with London in the moments of solitude and quiet found between those big moments as much as I fell in love in those big moments. I loved learning the art of navigating the tube, finding home in the ability to traverse London’s underground maze. I loved sitting atop a double decker bus and watching people and black cabs hurry by modern shops housed in old buildings. I fell in love with London sitting with food from Pret in the shadow of St. Paul’s Cathedral, leaning against the trunk of an oak in Hyde Park with my journal in my lap, or sitting on the banks of the Thames with a “butty” from Borough Market and a view of Tower Bridge.
It was hard to be alone, but London was undoubtedly one of the best places for me to learn how to be alone. Leading up to this trip, I made a point to spend time with all of my favourite people, and after each of those times, I reflected on how much I valued each of them, and how sorry I was to be leaving them, how grateful I was for their genuine excitement for me. Now that I am away from my friends and family, however, I find the feelings and thoughts I directed towards them being reflected back onto myself. I am learning how to spend time with myself and how to value myself.
The solitude also gave me ample room to meet new people, to accept the friendliness of strangers. My first hostel experience was certainly not luxurious comfort, and I did not expect it to be. I am excited to have my own room again, and I will not miss having to open so many doors just to use the toilet, or having to fish my belongings not only out of a suitcase but unlock it from a locker. Despite the many things I didn’t like about staying in a hostel, however, I cannot imagine staying anywhere else anytime soon—not only for the economic benefits of staying in a hostel, but for the people I was able to meet and the conversations I was able to have with them. I am grateful for those people—a local from Kent, a seasoned traveller from Australia, girls from South Carolina studying abroad, a man from Virginia finishing a doctorate in Britain with good things to say about the UC system, and a fellow Canadian (albeit from the opposite coast) beginning a new chapter of her life in London.
Being surrounded by people from all over in a new place also gave me appreciation for the ability to truthfully say, “I am from Canada.” I’ve found that it’s a privilege to be able to make that claim; saying it never failed to bring delight to the people I met. I am so lucky to be able to pack Canada’s international reputation with me on my travels. Interestingly, however, one morning I braided my hair and the cafeteria lady at the hostel asked me how I did it, and commented that she has to ask a relative to braid her hair for her. When she said that the relative was from the Philippines, I said, “Oh, that’s where I’m from!” I didn’t think anything of it at the time when I said it, but later I mulled over this gift of mine, to be from two places.
As I get closer and closer to Scotland, and the plains are becoming increasingly hillier and mountainous, I realized that despite my bouts of loneliness in London, I will miss that city. Around three or four days into my London adventure, I found that I wasn’t sure what to do with my time, but now that I’m gone, I can’t help feeling like I’ve only barely scratched the surface, that I desperately need more time, even with the six days I spent there—a longer stay than those of many of the travellers I met.
What I’m discovering with travel is that I rarely visit a place, and then leave it feeling finished. I am never finished in Los Angeles; on top of visiting my family, I always find there are a number of reasons to go back. There will always be shows to see and food to eat in New York City, and we still haven’t been up the Empire State Building. I haven’t visited the Strand bookstore in the City, either. I still have to see all the parks in Walt Disney World and Universal Studios Orlando. And now, as I leave London, I am leaving with a to do list to be put on hold until I’m able to go back.
Still, in the event that I am never able to go back to these places, I know that I loved each of those cities as fully as I could while I was in them. I will surely remember all the big moments—climbing to the Hollywood sign, watching Wicked for the first time, seeing Hogwarts from the back of a fish in Seussland—but I have left these places knowing that I relished in the little moments, too. Those, I don’t need to remember. They exist fully and completely in their own present, and I am grateful that I lived in those moments.