Spontaneous Bliss: First Impression

An American walks into a British Pub, and a red headed, scruffy bearded German asks, “What is your first impression of London?". Almost sounds like the beginning of a bad joke, doesn’t it? Truth be told, that actually happened. And how did I respond? With an intense stare off to the side, I responded with a joke about London’s love for alcohol. There was little truth to that statement. I was actually still collecting my thoughts and might have suffered a bit frorm culture shock.

That night I couldn’t sleep. Outside was loud and noisy, with cars honking, people running, and what sounded like a gunshot. The next morning, I woke up to sirens. Not uncommon for living directly across a police station. But to my surprise, the road outside my flat was closed and tapered off. I then found out that there was a fatal accident. I quickly assumed that I was right, I heard a man got shot the night before. But how could that be? Gun laws in the United Kingdom are so strict that not even the police can bear arms. Later, I discovered that morning a car hit a man on a motorcycle, and he died by the impact. A mini memorial was taped to a traffic light by the door to my flat.

The next morning, I was awakened by my fire alarm. The entire flat is marked on every wall reminding us of the procedure of a fire. A huge fire extinguisher is propped on the wall of the kitchen. Even if there was a fire, I doubt I would have the strength to lift it. Seems more like a fire hazard than a fire extinguisher. I ignored the first chirped and panicked after the second. I was armed with my Vans and fur coat, while sporting my pj boxers. I decided to ignore it and carry on with my morning. I was told later that is routine. Every Tuesday morning at 9AM. Great.

Flat A2B

My first impression of London is different then my impression of my living corridors.

Sure, I live in a closet, but it’s my closet. It’s quirky and full of potential, like myself. As for the common area, that’s another story. I feel that I have little control of what goes or grows in the kitchen. I won’t point fingers yet, but there is only 3 out of the 7 flatmates currently moved in. What is so bad about the kitchen? It isn’t that the oven is the size of an Easy Bake, or the fact the fridge isn’t cold enough, or the grill(toaster oven) burns everything, or even the faucet that never stops dripping. The problem is the dirty dishes cannot be detected form the clean ones. They just sit there with food crumbs and sauces sitting there in water with mold bubbles.
You can’t make this stuff up. Then the “clean” ones rest on a “sterile” surface in a puddle of their own suds. That is not presumably a British thing, that’s American. (I’m sorry about the sarcasm. I am realizing that is my charm here, aside from my American accent.)

Not my view

Any who, my first impression of London is not tainted by the American view: the red telephone booth or red double decker buses, Big Ben, or the Buckingham Palace. And it is definitely not a reflection of ignorance to germs reproducing in the kitchen. Not that British people are not messy, but the fact that we Americans are amused by shows like extreme hoarders who live with garbage piled in every room in the house may persuade me to assume, that the Brits are not responsible. Fortunately, there is a cleaning service that mops the floors every Monday morning. But that is beside the point.

My first impression of London, coming from someone who did very little research before arriving, may include their proper English that reflect that of the Queen and driving on the other side of the road. It might also include their free health care and go green attitude on energy conservation. It has officially been a full week since my arrival. And all I can conjure up to say is my first impression, my second impression, and even my third impression is London cannot be defined. It cannot be branded or marketed like a tourist destination. The icons us Americans pair with them is equivalent to putting the american flag on all merchandise and states on mugs and keychains. It is only the surface. London is much deeper than that. Each part, each district, each street is a life unto its own. From Parliament Square to Liverpool and Shoreditch, to Borough and Elephant Castle, you cannot cluster them together as London and stamp Big Ben on it.

Where am I coming from?
Keep in touch.

Cheers, SB

Oh and this is Walden. She is my living breathing bliss. Always down for adventure, wanderer of London, sassy, spunky, my personal tour guide, and my favorite flatmate. xox