London Journal

London arouses a sense of passion from person like no other city. Perhaps it is the pulsating rhythm that enraptures every body. Perhaps it is the air of pomp and circumstance that surrounds its daily life. Or perhaps it is the sound of music of a British accent to an America ear that makes it incredibly romantic. Due to my latest experience in England, I tend to favor the latter.

During my latest trip across the pond, I found myself falling victim to that said seductive accent in a most peculiar manner. You see, I was not at a bar ogling over the masses. I was in a checkout line of a supermarket in downtown London when I heard those magical words “Hey mate, can you move over a bit so I can reach the chocolate?” Well, the words were not that magical, but the accent was. I turned around ready to ask the person out right then and there and found myself awkwardly face to face with a wrinkled old pensioner trying to buy some sweets. He stood there and smiled, amused, while I grinned weakly and awkwardly. And the date afterwards was awkward too.

But the Toad-in-the-Hole I had was delicious. One part fat and one part fried, drowned in a thick brown sauce served with sausage and potatoes followed by a traditional apple cobbler and wash it all down with a pint of rich Guinness made for a hearty British meal. You could hear in the background the music for the changing of the guard and people yelling, “Hail Britannica!” with every bite.

Mind you, London also has an array of healthy food options from all round the world, due to its location as a major transportation and trading hub. One can go and find Middle Eastern stuffed aubergine, Spanish grilled berenjena, Italian melanzane alla parmigiana, South African baked brinjal, and Trinidad & Tobago stewed Baigan all within a block of each other. It is amazing that this array of dishes arose from the Sanskrit word vatinganah, which means eggplant.

Then there was the street performer. Never have I ever been chosen to be a “volunteer” for a street performer. I think I was singled out because I was not wildly applauding any of his antics nor laughing at his jokes. My hands were in my pockets firmly gripping my passport and wallet while scanning the crowd for pickpockets. He singled me out as someone who could use a little bit more enthusiasm and had me wrap him up in 20 meters of heavy chains and lock him up with three padlocks. He could have easily escaped within a few seconds, but he dragged his show out for nearly half an hour.

Well, half an hour was nearly enough for me to miss my flight. I ran back to my hotel as soon as the show ended, grabbed my luggage, hopped on the Heathrow Express, and blazed through check-in and security at the airport. As I settled into my luxurious coach-class seat, reminiscing about the journey, I came to the conclusion that London is romantic for many reasons, but one should really try to go on dates with people their own age.