1. December Parenthesis

After several months of study in Spain, the opportunity arose to travel to England, to visit a close friend who was British and was studying in Bristol. It was December, and in Barcelona I found myself having the first really fluent, coherent conversations I could manage in Spanish. Barcelona was mild, while London was frigid, due for a rare snowfall.

A number of apprehensions had my mind at work, pulling apart the simple, inoffensive details of my proposed trip to the UK. Would I be betraying my work in Spain, my long hours of reading, talking, listening, immersion in a language I was only beginning to get a handle on? What about the fact that I still had seven months of study, and was only beginning to build a life there. I hadn't left the comfort of the group I was with since arriving in late August... maybe getting away would be just the spark I would need to refresh my passion and enthusiasm for the long, uphill struggle of acquiring a second language.

I decided to frame the journey as a necessary adventure, a time away from the project at hand, but a lesson in adapting to new situations, to the rigors of travel itself. This convinced me that my time in Spain would be enhanced by a side-trip, and looking back, it was.

It's a short plane ride from Barcelona to London, feeling almost as if we simply climbed to a low cruising altitude, then peaked and descended to our destination. At Heathrow, I was able to find information on bookings, and reserve a room at a bed and breakfast inn just off Russel Square, for 30% off their normal rates (that knowledge would come in handy later).

Liverpool St. Station, London

The first voices I heard upon boarding the Underground to central London were speaking in Catalán, and strangely, I realized, it felt like home. I had become accustomed to hearing the language spoken by those around me, and a few lectures had given me a chance to learn how to bridge the gap between Castilian Spanish and Catalán, as one can learn to do between almost any of the so-called Romance languages, if one has the patience and creativity to hear between the words.

I took it as an omen which both anointed my journey with good feelings and hinted at a welcome homecoming eight days later. I dropped my things at the inn and went right out into the city. I chose Picadilly Circus as the point of departure for my first solitary jaunt, for a number of reasons.

Being London's no less wild rendering of Times Square, Picadilly was easy to find, and easy to escape. It was the center of the city and likely a good place to find money changers (though not at the best rates possible) and tourism offices (even late). I also hoped to locate tickets for the theatre.

From Picadilly's wash of noise and neon, I went to Leicester Square: one block away, but much quieter and reserved for pedestrians. There I caved in to the urge to fill up on fast food, to be little distracted by eating and devote myself to describing in writing the happenings, the characters and the bustle around me.

Two Spanish tourists entered, and I chose to practice my nascent fluency by listening, eavesdropping really, but to nothing of great interest, just some details about the travels of a friend. The population of London seemed at first glance to include a radical variety of personalities (as it must); it's a truly international city, with natives from every corner of the world intermingling and sharing space.

The radical element of the city's population struck me when a thirtyish artist (portfolio in hand) dressed in leather, with maybe a dozen piercings, and a green mohawk hairdo, managed to carry on a polite and charming conversation with an elderly lady, dressed quite conservatively and unfased by the unorthodox look of the man sitting next to her on the Tube. It wasn't that one would expect either of the two to be less than polite, but elsewhere I hadn't seen such a pair strike up a spontaneous conversation, much less enjoy each other's company, however briefly.

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Text © 2004 Joseph Robertson
Photos © 2003 Joseph Robertson