London Loving
I slide the blue credit card down the slot near the door handle and wait for the green light. Nothing. I try again, sliding the card faster through the mechanism, listening for the tell tale click of the lock opening. After my third try, I start to feel sweat on the back of my neck gathering near where the heat of the backpack straps are pulling. I shift position, and imagine walking all the way back to the St Christopher's Inn hostel reception, several blocks up High Borough Street on London's South Bank. The door swings open and I see a young woman in a red and black silk dress, framed by the red metal bunk beds behind her. She smiles slightly and makes way for me to enter.
I have been assigned bed C, which is currently draped by several pairs of jeans and a blue backpack. The bed is made, so I assume that someone has temporarily stored their belongings.
“Hi, I'm Naiori,” she said, extending her hand. She is really attractive in a way that's difficult to describe and slightly intimidating.
“Stephen,” I remark, letting go of her hand and trying not to look too closely at her.
I ask her if she knows whose belongings are on the bed. In a European accent I can't decipher, she tells me that this is common - for someone to take a hostel bed not allocated to them. I open my backpack and pull out my laptop so see if there's internet in the room. Just as I sit on one of the beds, she asks me if I would like to join her for a beer in the bar downstairs. I'm alone, have never been to London before and have randomly run into a beautiful woman. Of course I'll join you, I tell her.
Downstairs the music is pulsing and we order two shots and two Gin and tonics. Our conversation covers our respective homelands - the United States and Finland, our families, music and books that we like. After several drinks she pulls a London travel guide from her bag and tells me there's a bar she wants to go to. I don't remember the name but it doesn't really matter. I've learned that just wandering aimlessly in this city will lead you to something amazing.
After a fantastic evening - hitting a jazz club, dancing and one or seven too many drinks, we awoke the next morning to an unseasonably warm sunny day. We made our way down Borough High Street to Borough Market. Now keep in mind that in the United States we have supermarkets but nothing like what I would experience here. Vendor after vendor, stretching as far as I can see - selling pastries, sandwiches, olive oils, cheeses, mulled wine, fruits, beers, olives, a myriad of ethnic foods and the best part - you can sample almost everything!
After stuffing ourselves on the freshest food I'd had in ages, we walked through the breezy day, past the crowds of people on the Thames Riverbank to the Tate Modern. A stray cat is perched on a bridge, soaking up the sun. Street musicians are playing for the passer-bys. We spend the afternoon looking at contemporary masterpieces in the Tate galleries, the collection diverse and stunning: Picasso, Bacon, Dumas - the vividness of their colours truly visible on the original canvases.
That evening we dined at Signor Zilli in SOHO. A bottle of Motepuliciano, Lobster Spaghetti, Tiramisu - the best Italian meal in an intimate, candle-lit dining room with attentive and friendly service. The restaurant was slightly formal, but reasonably priced.
My new friend and I wandered the city for two more days, taking pictures, meeting people, drinking in some charming pubs and talking about where else we want to travel to. Naiori and I now plan to meet in the Baltic region in a couple months and hope to have an equally amazing time.
- Stephen Shoup
