I took a nice long walk from Waterloo to Marble Arch one winter evening. In the freezing cold. Armed with my trusty Primark scarf and Ralph Lauren snow hat. Oh, and my 'Made in China' leather gloves - the nicest-looking things gifted by the nicest person I know. I've never really done a solo walk like this before, not in London at least. Cos it seems pretty sad, and lonely, roaming about aimlessly on your own. But a friend recently did it, twice actually, and told me that it felt really good. So I decided to give it a go. What's the fun in binging night after night anyway? Also, I had been cooped up in the halls for more than 24hours, down with fever, flu, sore throat - the usual shit. I needed to get out. Even if that meant that I would die of hypothermia on the streets like some hobo.
I pick up the Evening Standard. First 5 pages are all about the unexpected snowfall and how it has disrupted the lives of many Londoners. Closed schools. Delayed trains. Trapped commuters. One would think that last February's events would have prepared the city for the worst. Apparently not. Well, good for the school kids then. I look up from the paper, distracted by a stumpy-looking punk trying to hit on a decent looking lady. Nothing really wrong with that. But the conversation is pretty sad, albeit slightly entertaining for me. It goes roughly like this:
Stumpy: Hey there, would you know if this train heads to London Bridge?
Lady: Hmm.. I don't really know. Sorry.
Stumpy: Are you sure? Does it really not go? I need to get to London Bridge.
Lady: There's a rail map right there. It'll tell you. (looks at the map). Oh yes, it does.
Stumpy: And how do I get back to this station from there?
Lady: (blank look)
(Tube arrives and saves the lady.)
Failed attempt at conversation. But hey, at least he tried.
Tube reaches my destination. I start walking. I realise that I've never actually seen the Westminster area after dusk before. If I do go out in the night, it's usually to the binge spots. Or to some performing arts venue at the West End. Or to Zones 5 or 6. Or to the kebab stands. Or to St Paul's - my favorite building in the whole of London. I stop to admire the Big Ben. It's gorgeous how the clock face seems to magically illuminate the whole tower to paint a picture of artistic serenity in a borough known mainly for politics. A couple of Asian tourists (Yeah, I'm SO not one of 'em) start taking pictures. I follow suit. But my attempts fail miserably. I don't own a friggin DSLR, you see.
I continue walking. Then it suddenly occurs to me that I'm still sick. And that my fever's coming back. Not a good thing at all, considering that the temperature's in the vicinity of ZERO. I feel my heart palpitating. It seems to be slowing down actually. I comically think that I'm going to die - The Straits Times headline: "SMU exchange student dies in freak weather at Westminster" flashes across my mind. Ok maybe not.
I spot Macs and head in for hot chocolate. There's a dude there, standing around suspiciously. The moment I get my drink, he approaches me and asks for the stamp on my cup. You get a free drink when you collect 6. I'm tempted to say that I'm collecting too. Then for some reason, I think of 'The Pursuit of Happyness'. He kinda looks like Will Smith (alright, he was black). He probably needs the free drink more than me. Might even have a hungry son waiting outside. So I give it to him. He seems grateful, and he goes off.
Trafalgar Square. Lots seem to be happening here. Some carolers in front of the huge Norwegian Christmas tree catch my attention. Quite a bit of snickering going on in the audience. The lead female voice is out of tune. But that's not it. The lead is actually a male in his 30s. I stay for awhile. I've never heard a castrato before. As I take my leave, an Indian girl approaches me. She's from the WWF and goes on and on about wild life conservation, how the polar caps are melting and how I should commit my support in the form of an email address. An overgrown Husky comes by. I exclaim at the size of the dog. She corrects me and says that it's a wolf. She goes on about how different dogs and wolves are for about 30 seconds. Then she asks the owner. It's a dog.
I see a protest going on with a number of banners with headings like "Copenhagen", and "Give Us Our Future". How cool is that. I've never seen a protest of any sort before so I go nearer and take some shots inconspicuously. I want to join them for the fun of it, but it's too cold. And also cos I'm wearing leather gloves.
Oxford Street. It truly feels like Christmas. Everyone's doing last minute shopping. The lights and deco glimmer in the icy night. A little snow on the ground. Lots of snow on the passing cars. Brass band playing outside Mark & Spenser's. Poor old ladies siting outside large department stores trying their luck at emotional blackmail. But, alas, the spirit of giving is not as compelling as the spirit of buying. Me? I have my hands full of winter clothing I have just bought for my family so I can't reach in for spare change. -_-
Marble Arch. I spot a drug store. I need to get medication for my wretched flu and fever anyway so I head in. I see a dude about my age trying to look invisible as he picks up his purchases. He seems to be getting condoms. Big deal. But no. Being the busybody that I am, I look closer. I think I see the word 'VIAGRA'. Sucks to be you, buddy.
I head home. People-watching isn't all that boring once in while, I guess. And I am not dead of hypothermia yet.
Cheers to that.
:)
I pick up the Evening Standard. First 5 pages are all about the unexpected snowfall and how it has disrupted the lives of many Londoners. Closed schools. Delayed trains. Trapped commuters. One would think that last February's events would have prepared the city for the worst. Apparently not. Well, good for the school kids then. I look up from the paper, distracted by a stumpy-looking punk trying to hit on a decent looking lady. Nothing really wrong with that. But the conversation is pretty sad, albeit slightly entertaining for me. It goes roughly like this:
Stumpy: Hey there, would you know if this train heads to London Bridge?
Lady: Hmm.. I don't really know. Sorry.
Stumpy: Are you sure? Does it really not go? I need to get to London Bridge.
Lady: There's a rail map right there. It'll tell you. (looks at the map). Oh yes, it does.
Stumpy: And how do I get back to this station from there?
Lady: (blank look)
(Tube arrives and saves the lady.)
Failed attempt at conversation. But hey, at least he tried.
Tube reaches my destination. I start walking. I realise that I've never actually seen the Westminster area after dusk before. If I do go out in the night, it's usually to the binge spots. Or to some performing arts venue at the West End. Or to Zones 5 or 6. Or to the kebab stands. Or to St Paul's - my favorite building in the whole of London. I stop to admire the Big Ben. It's gorgeous how the clock face seems to magically illuminate the whole tower to paint a picture of artistic serenity in a borough known mainly for politics. A couple of Asian tourists (Yeah, I'm SO not one of 'em) start taking pictures. I follow suit. But my attempts fail miserably. I don't own a friggin DSLR, you see.
I continue walking. Then it suddenly occurs to me that I'm still sick. And that my fever's coming back. Not a good thing at all, considering that the temperature's in the vicinity of ZERO. I feel my heart palpitating. It seems to be slowing down actually. I comically think that I'm going to die - The Straits Times headline: "SMU exchange student dies in freak weather at Westminster" flashes across my mind. Ok maybe not.
I spot Macs and head in for hot chocolate. There's a dude there, standing around suspiciously. The moment I get my drink, he approaches me and asks for the stamp on my cup. You get a free drink when you collect 6. I'm tempted to say that I'm collecting too. Then for some reason, I think of 'The Pursuit of Happyness'. He kinda looks like Will Smith (alright, he was black). He probably needs the free drink more than me. Might even have a hungry son waiting outside. So I give it to him. He seems grateful, and he goes off.
Trafalgar Square. Lots seem to be happening here. Some carolers in front of the huge Norwegian Christmas tree catch my attention. Quite a bit of snickering going on in the audience. The lead female voice is out of tune. But that's not it. The lead is actually a male in his 30s. I stay for awhile. I've never heard a castrato before. As I take my leave, an Indian girl approaches me. She's from the WWF and goes on and on about wild life conservation, how the polar caps are melting and how I should commit my support in the form of an email address. An overgrown Husky comes by. I exclaim at the size of the dog. She corrects me and says that it's a wolf. She goes on about how different dogs and wolves are for about 30 seconds. Then she asks the owner. It's a dog.
I see a protest going on with a number of banners with headings like "Copenhagen", and "Give Us Our Future". How cool is that. I've never seen a protest of any sort before so I go nearer and take some shots inconspicuously. I want to join them for the fun of it, but it's too cold. And also cos I'm wearing leather gloves.
Oxford Street. It truly feels like Christmas. Everyone's doing last minute shopping. The lights and deco glimmer in the icy night. A little snow on the ground. Lots of snow on the passing cars. Brass band playing outside Mark & Spenser's. Poor old ladies siting outside large department stores trying their luck at emotional blackmail. But, alas, the spirit of giving is not as compelling as the spirit of buying. Me? I have my hands full of winter clothing I have just bought for my family so I can't reach in for spare change. -_-
Marble Arch. I spot a drug store. I need to get medication for my wretched flu and fever anyway so I head in. I see a dude about my age trying to look invisible as he picks up his purchases. He seems to be getting condoms. Big deal. But no. Being the busybody that I am, I look closer. I think I see the word 'VIAGRA'. Sucks to be you, buddy.
I head home. People-watching isn't all that boring once in while, I guess. And I am not dead of hypothermia yet.
Cheers to that.
:)
