On Monday night I arrived home from London, where I had spent the weekend visiting friends from school. As I hurtled through the English countryside back towards Paris (I took the Eurostar) my heart swelled painfully with conflicting emotions: I’d been so happy to be spending time with some of my best friends again, and yet, heading home, I was equally subdued at the thought that I wouldn’t see most of them for nearly a year. Of course, in the grand scheme of things, that’s hardly a long time – but having spent the past five years together, nine months seems unimaginably long to go without seeing them in person. The weekend had passed happily in busy activity and good company, and the inner cocktail of emotion emerging on my way home merely served to prove it.
I’d arrived on Friday to a London already dark and wet and chilly. I hadn’t set foot in the country since I’d left school in May, and I’d forgotten just how penetratingly, bone-chillingly cold English rain could be. Miraculously, however, the next morning found the city gleaming under a blue sky, only slightly overcast. Such lovely weather persuaded me to walk to St Pancras where I was to catch a train (a not insignificant distance from Southwark, from where I was setting off) but I yielded to the call of the city. London has an amazingly vibrant atmosphere, and I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed it. Undoubtedly, Paris is beautiful – its architecture, museums and landmarks are world-renown for a reason – and a place I’m privileged to call home, but both have their own unique charm that is abstruse to the other. The flavour of each capital is singular, almost tangible; it’s as if we’re plunged into a solution to emerge different, in outlook and in feeling, when visiting each.
London is far more bustling, far more diverse. Far from just being the English centre of administration, it seems a global capital: a city of and for the international. This is what so excites me about it. Hearing mixtures of tongues as I walk down the street, passing into different districts that resemble each other no more than two completely separate towns – I delight in the incongruity and complexity of it all. It’s hard to feel out of place in a city whose identity is composed of people like me, who come from all over and who are drawn here by some intangible, nameless force.
A quick side-note that risks being an unpopular opinion – I actually think that London may be more a capital of food than its French counterpart. Though Paris may be a mecca for lovers of patisserie, London is truly a foodie’s paradise: it disregards no cuisine, nor spares any expense; from Borough Market to Spitalfields, the sheer size and range of that on offer is enough to overwhelm even the most stoic foodie and make the average person wish their stomach was at least three times as big. I found myself relating to the latter as I made my way through Shoreditch on Sunday, the air filled with mouthwatering aromas and the streets with people desperate to sample them. I won’t pretend I’m a licensed culinary guide, but I do love food, and the wares of Brick Lane Market looked super delicious. (Unfortunately I wasn’t able to corroborate this, as I’d already made plans for lunch, but it’s one of the first on my to-do list for my next visit to London!!)
On Saturday night my friend Clara and I went for dinner at Circolo Popolare, just off Oxford Street. The queue outside the restaurant’s unassuming facade was testament to its popularity, and the wait was unequivocally worth it. We were ushered into the colourful, cavernous belly of the restaurant, whose ambiance, though a little on the loud side, was excitingly immersive. On their website they boast of their completely Italian body of staff, the authenticity of which I can confirm – I’d asked a waitress what ‘mafaldine’ was, and after some mutual difficulty, I thought that she’d communicated that it was square-shaped, a bit like ravioli. When a waiter came to take our order he clarified that that was not, in fact, the case; the language barrier had been real. (If you’re interested to know what mafaldine actually is, see the image below.) Our orders came quickly: they were both generous in portion and delicious. It was lovely evening of good food and conversation, and a setting I’d definitely recommend!
Following dinner I met with some other friends from school for karaoke at Hibiki, in Holborn. The self-proclaimed “Korean Izakaya” offers a few private rooms for this purpose in true Korean fashion, karaoke being one of the most popular recreational activities in Seoul. By the time we left my throat was raw from the strain of my mediocre yet intense singing; I embarrassed myself more than once when a staff member came in to replenish our supply of soju. Beware ordering this drink here, however, for though great in taste (especially the grape) it came at an eye-wateringly steep £10-12 per bottle 🙁
Though this post is titled ‘a weekend in London’, I also spent a few hours visiting Cambridge, my future university, on Saturday. I’m currently holding a deferred place at St John’s College to read AMES, so I went to visit some friends who are already studying at the uni. One of my favourite spots in Cambridge so far is Fitzbillies, where I met a friend who’s also doing my course for a catch up over two of their famous Chelsea Buns. Even being there for just a few hours filled me with excitement and anticipation for next October – but between now and then, I have many other adventures to start and several different projects to pursue. I leave for Seoul in under three weeks, and I’m so looking forward to it!
This post has been a long one; it’s been a week or so since my first, so I just needed to get something down. Once I’ve started writing, I’m sure that it’ll be much easier to keep going. I’ve many ideas, thoughts and recommendations that’ll be coming this way soon, so stay tuned.. 🙂
