Each year, colleagues ask why I travel to London on my own dime, when I can easily justify a business trip given that I attend a conference and spend a day or two in one of our regional offices whilst there.
But the beauty of my time in London is just that. On my dime, it’s my time. Free to spend hours at a time reading a book whilst enjoying high tea in Covent Garden, or wandering through the Museum of Natural History, pouring through books at Waterstone’s on Piccadilly or merely taking in the people all around me whilst sitting on an anonymous bench in Hyde park. This year, I decided to go old school, spending time in the Natural History Museum, the British Library and even the National Portrait Gallery. The Tate and Tate Modern can wait until next year.
For whatever reason, this trip was about reconnecting. With former colleagues I haven’t seen in at least 3-4 years and revisiting some of my favorite museums that never lose their mystique or appeal. I also wandered throughout the city more this time around, without an agenda or a place to be.
It was with nervous and giddy excitement that I paced the small space at the station near the turnstiles.
The trains were running on time that day and without fail, the train pulled in and I tried not to scan the crowd. I tried to be nonchalant, as if it were every week night that I met him. There, at the train.
And then my eyes met his cerulean blue eyes and the next thing I knew all decorum flew out the proverbial window as I stood up on my tip toes to kiss him…
Fellow Bloggers and people in my real life alike often ask what it is about London, that resonates with me? I don’t know the answer to that. No, wait, that’s not quite accurate. I don’t know that I can articulate what it is about Central London but it’s definitely a state of mind for me. Not unlike Billy Joel’s New York State of Mind
Truthfully, it’s not about England, or the other, even more amazing places throughout Britain or the United Kingdom. It’s definitely central London. I’ve friends and colleagues that are definite Anglophile’s and that isn’t me. I wish I could say it was but it’s not. No, it’s even more base than that. My entire being feels different the moment I step off the jet way and head towards immigration at LHR. It’s as if an electrical current is running through my veins and my soul sighs “ah, it’s good to be home.” There is no rational explanation but that feeling, the feeling of being right where I belong started from my very trip across the pond 13-years ago.
For a while, I worked in an organization where I traveled the world quarterly, which meant I was in London four times a year for a week. Granted, my free time was limited to the walk from my hotel to the offices in Soho and back. If I wasn’t too exhausted I would take my time walking back, take in central London at night, stop at any one of the numerous eateries for a bite or hit a museum that had late hours. I’d find ways to get out of the obligatory office dinner and drinks at least twice in a week to either take in a show or to simply immerse myself in London. Even after I moved to a new role in a different organization, London was never far from my mind.
So much so that instead of joining girlfriends for long weekends in Vegas or Napa, for the past 5-years I’ve set aside a week each September for a solo trek to mecca. I still have work accountabilities, and I make time for family time via Skype but with the time difference and my insomnia, I have entire days in London.
My personality shifts when I’m in London as well. Shifts may be too strong of a word. Maybe it’s more of an attitude adjustment. I feel more alive, I have more energy, I walk everywhere and I feel sexy. Not sexy as in come hither sexy but confident. No one knows me in London, well okay, that’s not true but it’s not like walking around the city I live in or even San Francisco or Los Angeles where I’ve lived etc. But in London, I am anonymous. Not invisible but anonymous.
As Ann St. Vincent knows, I had an appointment at Agent Provocateur during this past trip. While I’ve lost over 130-pounds and kept them off for the last 4-years, I’m still a bit too ample (or curvy as polite people will say to me-lol) to purchase some of the delicious items they have for sale. That doesn’t stop me from making an appointment each year and finding something to spend way too much money on, but I can assure you that I don’t know that I could do that here in the States. My state of mind whilst in London is one in which I don’t feel as if I have to shrink to belong in a store. Or perhaps it’s the more open culture in Europe in general?
Another store I adore is Coco de Mer, outside of San Francisco or New York City, I can’t think of any large, metropolitan city in the U.S. where you will find a beautiful and classy BDSM boutique amongst the high end shopping, boutique hotels, salons and eateries such as Coco de Mer in Covent Garden. While I may giggle a bit to myself whenever I cross the threshold, I never feel judged as I browse their offerings or when I step back out into the bustling sidewalks on Monmouth. The same can be said when scheduling a service at the Ministry of Wax (Hollywood all the way) no overriding feeling of needing to apologize in advance for being a plus size gal.
And of course, there are the book stores, the museums, the various walks of life every where. It’s the rush of life every where around you.
There is something to be said for confidence. For feeling good about where you are at that moment. For me, London personifies all of this for me…
The past 4 weeks have passed in almost a blur in which even in the rare moments of free time; true free time not dealing with the office across time zones, or spending family time via Skype or calls in the middle of the night (my time), or work in the time zone I was in at the time; I was mentally if not physically exhausted and just didn’t have the energy to post or keep current on the blogs I follow consistently. Oh, I “liked” posts here and there and even occasionally commented. But about three days into my extended travel over several time zones, for the first time in any of my travels, I had to simply focus on where I was at that time. Ok, that and I had eaten my way through the mini-bar in my lovely hotel in London. I not only spent way too many pounds, I gained a few too *smirk*.
Just started going through the pictures snapped since September 1st and realized I’ve traveled round-trip, from home to someplace back home, every weekend since Labor Day. Oy.
Each trip has provided lasting memories. But London. *sigh* London…
for some fellow bloggers, of various topics, that are having a bit of a rough go at the moment. you are in my thoughts even if i’m not keeping up with your posts in real-time. {hugs}
travel well my friend. for the rest of the month not only are we separated by distance and time zones, the distance is literally half a world away and the time zones increased to a day+
given the way things need to be and the new normal of limited virtual contact, the additional distance and separator of time zones pierces my heart more than ever before. I miss your touch. yes, of course the actual physical touch but more importantly the touch of our conversations and human kindness in the mutual admiration society we have. the voicemails of encouragement before and after a chemo treatment, the funny limerick left in my mailbox or the good night wish sent as a single note in the ether. that’s the touch I miss the most.
Each year, colleagues ask why I travel to London on my own dime, when I can easily justify a business trip given that I attend a conference and spend a day or two in one of our regional offices whilst there.
For whatever reason, this trip was about reconnecting. With former colleagues I haven’t seen in at least 3-4 years and revisiting some of my favorite museums that never lose their mystique or appeal. I also wandered throughout the city more this time around, without an agenda or a place to be.
If even for a slice of time.
