My London: A Photo Essay

Exactly 23 months ago, to the day, I got on a red-eye flight to London. It was my first time in the city after years of wanting to go, and I fully expected to love it. I did love it, but I also hated it sometimes. London is a study in contradictions - English, but completely un-English; grey and rainy except when it's beautiful; alienating and unfriendly but with some of the loveliest people I've ever met; edgy but traditional; proud but sometimes ridiculous, and generally completely incomprehensible but wonderful.
There's not a day that goes by that I don't miss it.

In honour of the Olympics beginning on Friday and all of the coverage that London will be receiving, I've put together a photo essay of the city as I experienced it.

Historic

Of course this has to make it into my experience of London - the interior of Shakespeare's Globe Theatre on the South Bank. 

Nostalgic

Echoes of Britain's imperial past abound in this statue at the Prince Albert Memorial in Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens.

Blended

London Stone in the City, the point from which all distances were measured in Roman Londoninium. Now it's located in the base of a building in the financial district, a small reminder of the layers of history that lie underneath London, as well as Britain's multicultural past. After the Romans arrived in 43 A.D., England was invaded by Angles, Saxons, Danes, and Normans.Immigrants have always been a part of the fabric of Great Britain, and nowhere is that more apparent than in London.

Glitzy

Victoria Palace Theatre in Victoria, part of London's famous West End.

Grim

A plague graveyard in the City commemorates the decimation of the London's population. 

Full of tourists (myself included)...

But in a literary kind of way...

...And other residents

Pigeons, perhaps London's most populous group, make themselves at home in St. James Park.

Traditional

Looking through the gates of Kensington Palace.

Whimsical

Yes, that shed is flying the Jolly Roger.

Grey

The view from St. Paul's Cathedral.

Colourful

The complete sensory experience at Borough Market, under London Bridge.

Human

Memorial to Princess Diana on the gates outside of Kensington Palace

Puzzling

Because 'cross-walk' is too dull.

 Serious

The clocktower at Parliament in Westminster. The name 'Big Ben' actually refers to the bell inside of the tower, not the clock.

 Sometimes too serious

Ah, the Changing of the Guards. Blocking traffic every morning since Victorian times...

But still able to have fun

This doesn't even really need a caption, does it?

Literary

J. M. Barrie's much-beloved Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens.

 Or not...

Stopping to smell the roses in Queen Mary's Garden in Regent's Park led to a mid-afternoon nap in the sunshine for this Londoner.

Brilliant

Parliament from the London Eye.

 Best of luck with the Olympics, London. I can't wait to see what you've got for the world.

Weekly Wander

Highlighting one photograph a week from my travels past and present. Enjoy!

On the street in Naples - what a crazy city! It was gritty, colourful, and terrifying in a 'Dear Lord, how do I cross the street without dying?' kind of way, but it definitely had its own kind of beauty.

A Morning in Eastern Market

As the unofficial centre of D.C.’s Capitol Hill neighbourhood, Eastern Market is a hugely popular destination amongst locals and tourists alike. At 137 years old, it lays claim to the title of D.C.’s oldest continually running market, and is it ever running. From the vendors selling meat and produce in the South Hall Market to the artists hawking their wares in the Weekend Outdoor Market, visitors can spend hours wandering amongst the stalls, eating their way through a delightful morning or afternoon at Eastern Market, which is precisely what I did last weekend.

I met a friend, who knows the city much better than I do, for what I was promised would be the best crepes I’ve ever tasted. Who am I to forgo mouth-watering crepes on a Sunday morning? I tried not to lose her in the crowds as we wove through fruit stands, past colourful swatches of fabric, following our noses to the food carts set up as their own little satellite market. D.C.-dwellers love, love, love food trucks and food carts of all kinds. I myself have pledged my undying loyalty to the Cupcake Truck in New Haven, Connecticut as my first food truck of choice, but I was more than willing to give these a try.

Our final destination was Eastern MarketCrepes, and it did not disappoint. The Crepe Man, Mitchell, puts together some unusual and exceptionally tasty combinations, all nestled in the perfectly poured batter that was inspired by his world travels. My crepe was stuffed with ham, apple, Muenster cheese, and maple syrup, and oh my was it good. I wanted another one as soon as I’d finished! Although he was tucked out of the way, it was clear that the Crepe Man has many loyal followers who come back weekend after weekend. His stall was buzzing the entire time we were there. Now I have to go back to try the donuts and the Indian food that some of his neighbours were selling, although maybe not on the same trip!

Mitchell works his Sunday-morning crepe magic.

After eating our fill of crepe-y goodness, we strolled through the stalls, browsing the painted scenes of the city and the jewellery that taunted our slender wallets. As we wound our way towards South Hall Market, we stopped to enjoy the slices of fresh peaches offered at the fruit stalls.

Exploring Eastern Market was a wonderful way to pass the morning, probably my favourite that I’ve spent in the city so far. The wonderful food certainly helped my experience (I caved and had a post-crepe apple strudel, as well, even though it was the middle of July. No regrets about that life decision), but the atmosphere alone was enjoyable. It really is a hub of the community – there were tourists there, but there were also people doing their weekly produce shopping. It serves as both an international attraction and a small-town farmers market, and it was so interesting to see both of those dynamics at play simultaneously.

One of the things that I really love about D.C. is that market spaces like this were actually a part of Pierre L’Enfant’s design for the city – little green places and squares where the community can gather and come together as a neighbourhood. His forethought gives the city a rather European flair, and has no doubt gone quite a ways in allowing D.C.’s different neighbourhoods to distinguish themselves from one another. 

Weekly Wander

Highlighting one photograph a week from my travels past and present. Enjoy!

Probably my favourite pub name ever. I came across this gem in Victoria, London when I went to see Billy Elliot at the Victoria Palace Theatre. This was right before I spilled tea all down my front, incidentally. Always the graceful traveller.

Weekly Wander

As an aspiring travel writer who also happens to have a 9-5 office job (well, internship. I call it a job to make myself feel better), it can be easy to feel like I'm not actually going anywhere sometimes. How am I supposed to write about travel if I'm not really travelling anywhere? That's when I have to remind myself of two things: 1. I live in a pretty awesome city and exploring it on the weekends actually is travelling, at least in my view; and 2. I have had the opportunity to see some really cool places in the travelling that I have done. In that spirit, I've decided to highlight one photograph a week from my travels past and present. So, without further ado, here's my first weekly wander.

Pigeons like sculpture, too - getting up close and personal with Rodin's "Burghers of Calais" in the Hirshorn Sculpture Garden, Washington, D.C.

Yes, It Really Is as Cool as Everyone Says

This weekend I surrendered my Smithsonian virginity. That’s right, I just graduated from college and have been living in D.C. for over a month, and I just visited my first Smithsonian museum.

I was lucky enough to take part in a guided tour of the outside of the museums through work a few weeks ago – the Smithsonian’s horticulturalists led a group of us through the gardens that lend so much character and support to the buildings themselves, but do it in such a way that passers-by hardly notice. Pause for a moment next time you’re outside the National Museum of the American Indian and notice the traditional crops that are planted in the beds in front of the building, and the long grasses on the side. Admire the tee-pee sculpture, which is biodegradable and changes minutely every day. Walk through the various regions of the butterfly garden outside of the Museum of Natural History. They’re beautiful gardens, worthy of a tour in their own right.

But the gardens were not my mission this weekend. First of all, it was too hot to be outside for longer than about thirty seconds, and second, I wanted to see what the Smithsonian is most famous for – the interiors of its museums! I started with the Museum of Natural History, because why wouldn’t you see the museum with dinosaurs first?

Pretty sure this is a bowhead whale, if you were wondering.

Given that it was a very hot weekend in the middle of the summer, the museum was very crowded, and kids were running everywhere. All of the traffic made it difficult to stop and read the text panels, but I had a great time wandering through the exhibit halls just looking at everything – the Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton looming over visitors, the sea creatures suspended from the ceiling in the blue light of the Ocean Hall, the wonderful expressions and poses of the animals from Africa and Australia, the glittering ore and gemstones upstairs. The Hope Diamond wasn’t too shabby, either.

As I walked through the museum taking in all of the fascinating creatures and objects on display, it hit me that this museum is actually such stuff as childhood dreams are made on. I mean, what kid at some point in his or her life has not wanted to be a palaeontologist, a marine biologist, or an astronaut?  My early career aspirations included all three before I realized that Shakespeare was actually more up my alley. My brother was our resident dinosaur expert, while I could rattle of all of the baleen whales once upon a time. Coming to a place where all of that is on display, where there are signs saying “please touch,” is pure magic for those childhood imaginings.

It was so refreshing to see that dinosaurs are still as big a draw as ever. After spending a weekend listening to my nine-year-old cousin talk about nothing but his Nintendo whatchamacallit, I was so glad to see kids with their noses pressed against the insect tanks and dragging their parents to see the stuffed lions. And the Smithsonian has done a nice job of integrating technology into the exhibits as a kid-friendly learning tool. In one room I overheard a young boy who was playing with meteor trajectories on a touch-screen say tentatively, “Mom? I think I just blew up the earth...”

 It’s a huge space where kids (of all ages) can learn and also let their imaginations run wild. And that’s pretty awesome.

Long live the dinosaurs.

Still as cool as ever.

In Which I Feel *gasp* Patriotic

I have been an ex-pat in the making since the third grade, when I decided that I wanted to move to Switzerland when I grew up because it was always neutral. And because I wanted to be Heidi. In the early drafts of my senior thesis on travel writing, one of my friends kindly reminded me that my line of argument could  not be that we should all move to Europe. In short, I am not the most patriotic American.* I don’t like Toby Keith songs. I’ve finally come around to liking apple pie, but I think that’s my sweet tooth more than a latent sense of nationality exerting itself.  

So it was with mixed feelings that I approached Independence Day (which one of my friends referred to as “Traitor’s Day”) in Washington, D.C. It being the first July I’ve spent in our nation’s capitol, I knew that I had to go see the fireworks on the National Mall, along with everyone else and their brother. As my friends and I found standing room at the Capitol, I was sceptical, especially when I saw a rather drunk (or maybe the heat had just got to him) gentleman waving an American flag and trying desperately to lead a sing-along of “The Star Spangled Banner.” Francis Scott Key was probably rolling over in his grave at that.

It’s hard to feel disenchanted watching twilight steal over the Mall, however. The white stone of the Capitol was rosy in the setting sun, and the haze made the avenue stretched in front of us deep purple. In the distance, the red lights of the Washington Monument blinked like two eyes surveying the scene. It was beautiful.

Then, the fireworks started. Watching bursts of red and gold silhouette the Washington Monument while strains of “The Stars and Stripes Forever” drift from the other side of the Capitol was something else. I started to remember other Fourth of Julys with my family when I was younger, my brother covering his ears because he hated the noise and my parents’ friend telling us to look really hard for the black fireworks, because those were the best ones. As I let myself get swept up in the moment (and what a moment it was), I thought that maybe this country is alright. Yes, it has its fair share of problems, many of them centred in the building that I was standing next to, but it’s beautiful nonetheless.

In honour of this reconnection, here are some of my favourite aspects of travelling in America (you’ll just have to excuse the less than American spelling, I’m afraid. It’s just second nature now):

Road trips – The love of packing into a car and driving for an endlessly long time for pleasure seems to be a distinctly American concept. We’re a country of drivers, and we feel threatened if that individual mobility is limited in any way. I think that’s one of the reasons that public transportation hasn’t caught on here like it has in other countries – we love driving too much. I remember my friends in England being dumbfounded that I drove six hours to get home from university. To them, three hours was an incredibly long trip. But I love driving. Getting behind the wheel with miles of open highway stretched out in front of me, turning up the radio – it’s a great feeling. And it’s a great way to see this beautiful country of ours. Except on I-95 in New Jersey. There is nothing beautiful about that.

It’s huge – To go along with my love of road trips, I love how big this country is. That may seem strange, but it’s really amazing to me that the continental United States alone is home to the beautiful woodlands and sea shore of Acadia National Park in Maine, the rolling green hills and fields of Pennsylvania, the stunning Rocky Mountains, the glaciers of Yellowstone, and the towering redwood trees of California. It’s incredible, and we’re so lucky to be able to see all of those amazing places without needing a passport.

Manitou Springs, Colorado

The world’s table – The diversity of landscapes is matched by the diversity of food here. After spending a year abroad without access to good Mexican food, I’ve come to really appreciate how you can find any type of cuisine here. This doesn’t hold true for everywhere, of course – where I grew up you could either get pizza or Chinese take away – but in Alexandria alone I have an astonishing array of choices: Indian, Irish, English (they’re different), Italian, Japanese, Thai,  Ethiopian, Spanish, Middle Eastern, the list goes on and on. It’s wonderful, and I love that I can give my taste buds a vacation without going anywhere. Also, America is the home of ranch dressing and maple syrup, two of my favourite things in the world. I realize that Canada can also claim maple syrup, but I am a New Englander born and raised, and we get our syrup from farmer’s markets in the summer and sugarhouses in the spring. And maple fluff? Be still my heart.

Ice cream, you scream – Not all ice cream shops are created equal, as anyone who has ever tried to buy ice cream in the United Kingdom will know. And America knows how to do ice cream shops. It has to be hard, it has to be scooped out, and there need to be more than two flavour options. I love trying different ice cream flavours when I travel, especially when they’re unique to the particular establishment where I find myself. Perfect example? Cornbread ice cream at Leo’s in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. It shouldn’t work, but it really does.

NPR – Why is this on the list of things that I love about travel in the United States? Well, mostly because I love NPR. But I also love that I can tune in anywhere in the country and get the local station while keeping up on my current events. It’s really a wonderful thing. And on those long road trips, it’s nice to have someone talking to me. It breaks up my terrible singing along to my iPod.

What are some of your favourite aspects of travel Stateside? Where are some of the best places you’ve visited in the fifty states?

*Just to clarify, I fully support our armed services and have nothing but the utmost respect for those men and women who have heeded the call of patriotism and chosen to serve their country. 

Weekly Wander

The Cadet Chapel at the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, Colorado (before the wildfires). The architecture is designed to reflect both the planes flown by the men and women who worship here, as well as the surrounding mountains. Happy Fourth of July!

Nature or Nurture?

Have you ever had that feeling that the universe is conspiring to bring something to your attention? The same theme keeps coming up, again and again, in places and ways that have no real relation to each other, but if you fill in the gaps between those instances, the metaphorical light bulb can go off.

For me lately this uncanny theme has been how people connect with one another. As E. M. Forster famously wrote in Howard’s End, “Only connect.” And let me tell you, Forster knew a thing or two about connection. The aspect of connection that has occupied my thoughts most recently is the ways people learn from one another and emulate, either consciously or unconsciously, the people whom they admire or are close to (be this good or bad).

I read another blogger’s post recently on what inspires him to travel (find it here), which of course led me to think on my own travel inspiration. I’ve always loved to move. For as long as I can remember, I have been incapable of sitting still and I have always loved long car trips to new places (airplanes not so much, but I’m learning to deal with that). For a long time I thought that it was a case of wanderlust born of living in a small town in the middle of nowhere.

But this particular self-reflective moment happened to coincide with my trying to figure out what I wanted to say at my grandfather’s memorial service this past weekend. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that my love of travel goes much deeper than my small-town roots – it was something that I learned from my grandfather.

He also came from a small-town – he grew up on a farm during the Great Depression and the Second World War, and then worked as a logger and a mechanic to support his family. Once he retired, he and my grandmother literally set about seeing the world. I lived near an airport, so they would come to stay with us for a few days before setting of on one of their many trips, to Hawaii (he would sit and talk with the veterans on the Arizona for hours), Taiwan, Australia, New Zealand, and all over the Bavarian Alps.

I grew up associating my grandfather with travel, and as I grew older and started travelling on my own, that’s how he and I connected. The first time that I went to Europe he mailed me their photo albums from Germany, Austria, and Switzerland so that I could look at what he and my grandmother had seen and enjoyed there as I retraced their steps. When I spent a year “studying” abroad and travelling all over Europe, he read this blog more than anyone and I sent him postcards from every city that I visited.

It wasn’t until I started thinking about his memorial service that I realized how much of my grandfather’s love for travel I’ve absorbed, because it happened without my noticing it. I’ve been lucky because my parents have always been keen on travel and we’ve taken some wonderful holidays. I mean, I got back from a year of travelling only to be able to spend two weeks in Colorado with my family last year. But it was only in talking to my dad this weekend that I saw that his own interest in travel came from my grandfather, and in turn passed to me. Travel is a family value, essentially, and now it’s become a legacy.       

Is it possible to “catch” wanderlust? I’m sure that it is. That’s what I thought happened to me, but now I realize that it’s actually been an integral part of my life ever since my parents stuck me in a car seat to drive the eighteen or so hours to South Carolina when I was two years old. But I like to believe that people can grow into anything, such as football fans (shamelessly advertising my last post) or world travellers. I’d love to hear other opinions and stories about where your love for travel, or any other passions that you have, comes from if you care to join me in my musings.