City on a Sunday

One of my favorite questions people from home ask me is usually some form of the following: “How are the British people?..or your new British friends?...or your new British boyfriend?” And I always reply with some version of, “What British people (insert friends/boyfriend as needed)?!” Okay, so of course I have met British people in London, however probably a vast majority of people I have met are from every other corner of the planet and not from England. It may be because I work in a very global office- the other day at a pub table after work I glanced around me- Canada, um…Canada again (a lot of Canadians!), India, France, Netherlands, Finland…
If anything though, I have realized if you really look for it you will see how all people can be so similar in even the slightest expressions….

This morning I woke up at 9:30. Everyone was still dead asleep including about 4 people who had stayed in our living room from the building-wide Halloween party last night. Imagine my horror as I stumbled into the living room this morning to see a knight slain out upon the couch. He clearly had a joust with Smirnoff the previous night and hadn’t faired so well. Having no part in last night’s festivity the lingering traces of it in my flat lit in me a slight spark of disgust and I had to leave. I decided to head out to a new location to attempt working on my long over due MBA assignments.

I got on the ol’ Bakerloo line as normal, still unsure of were I would end up, and scanned the ipod for some inspiring melody. The car was filled with normal Londoners- families, people going to work on Sunday, and the other 1/3 of people just getting home from their crazy night before. (these were somewhat easier to identify since some had remnants of strange costumes and make-up) Two stops later a family of six got in the car. A couple with three kids and an older women- probably a grandma. Despite there being a lack of seats for all six, they all crammed onto 4 seats, which made me smile. I looked at what they were wearing- interesting scarves and parkas, I guessed they were from a countryside somewhere. They were speaking some dialect I couldn’t detect, so I honestly have no idea where they were from-it didn’t matter. The father has his arm stretched out in front of his son and he held firmly to the pole, even though he was seated and secure. He had a smile on his face of pure joy and at one point he kissed his son on the forehead. The son, who I would guess was about 7, quickly wiped it off and made a face of disbelief of the atrocity just bestowed upon him. I never want to forget the look on the fathers face and the tears of joy in his eyes as he watched the tube walls wiz by - you could just see how proud and excited he was to bring his family to visit the city of London. They got off at Baker Street and another family of 4 took their place. A more conservative German family with a 13 year old girl grasping a Beckham poster she had just bought. Sundays are special in London- travelers, families, people relaxing (well some, it still is a city)

So here I sit at the Victoria Station Starbucks- I came here because of the windows on the second floor that let me daydream and watch the bustling travelers below when I don’t want to focus on my paper. I’m drinking my new favorite concoction- A grande, sugar-free hazelnut, classic hot chocolate, with soy milk. What a wordy and complex beverage, i.e. a perfect reflection of me…I like to think its amazing ;-) Now if only I wasn’t splattering it all over my keyboard, ugh.