The air in London tastes different. It sticks more to the tongue than the dry air in South Africa, but it is not as thick as the air in Muscat.
Signs and stores sped by on the underground that were entirely unfamiliar. My eyes were searching for signals of familiarity, something my eyes could recognise. But it wasn’t until we finished the train AND bus ride that the familiar yet contested logo of Shell Petroleum lingered on the corner of Palestine Grove – our home for the next three weeks.
Chris welcomed us in a salmon pink shirt and the trendy bangles from his travels that always adorned his arms.
The London Underground was a whole new experience and my first train ride. Credit: Pinterest
The underground train barrels through the tunnels. The only interruption to the relentless darkness was the occasional break of green undergrowth on the verges. I found myself unconsciously checking dark alleys and archways for bodies as result of years of British detective novels, movies and series. I guess these stereotypes are not too far off from South African wildlife that roams the streets of Cape Town.
Chris is committed to giving us the ultimate experience of London and has set the bar high. Today, we enjoyed the “Best Burger in London” AND the “Best Ice Cream in London”.
After expertly navigating the underground and the side streets, we found ourselves outside an old pub, with an ale in hand. The Argyll Arms is renowned as an –
“18th Century pub with original mahogany panelling and Victorian snugs with etched glass partitions”
At Argyll Arms pub
FIRST drink in London: English ale
This was followed shortly by more walking – something we were very prepared for. I cannot track or place the smells. The scents are capricious – swinging from sickly street smell lingering on one street corner, to a heavy perfume odour that dominated another section, to a sticky sweet smell that clings to the cigarette smoke wafting in the air.
Muddled with a cacophony of scents and smells, we found our feet outside Patty & Buns on James Street- the “best burger joint in town” according to our esteemed cousin. Our stomachs are ready to put it to the test.
We were not disappointed.
Two ‘Smokey Robinson’ burgers and ‘ARI GOLD’ Cheeseburgers later, we roll out of this local hipster restaurant with the hip-hop music still thrumming in our ears.
“Het julle nog plek vir dessert?” Chris asks.
We wander around Central London, ambling along Oxford Street and weaving in and out of the occasional store that catches our fancy. The amount of foot traffic is staggering! Pedestrians are rushing forward with no discernible pattern, making it particularly challenging to manoeuvre between the bright red buses and the glow taxi’s – a kind of bicycle with a carriage strapped to the back (easily detected because of the club music blaring from the tinny speakers).
The next stop is Piccadilly Circus – which is NOT “a travelling company of acrobats, clowns, and other entertainers which give performances, typically in a large tent, in a series of different places” as it is known in the rest of the world. Rather, in Britain, it is an “open circle, square, or plaza where several streets converge”. Explains a lot.
Needless to say – it was crawling with tourists (like ourselves) and selfie sticks. We witnessed a particularly swanky teen stretch out her swan-like arms and strike several lofty poses while her poor friend had to photograph her repeatedly. Chris decided to improve her photo’s by shoving his bearded face in a photobomb.
It was late now. 8pm. But the sky was still a light grey like it was 6 pm on a summer’s day in South Africa.
The rain called us into action. Apparently, it was the perfect time for an ice cream.
My cousin carefully explained though. It’s not ice cream – it’s GELUPO which is king in a realm of its own. Apparently, Anni’s Italian friend even approves. We can see why.
Delicious scoops of Gelupo gelato ice cream! Credit: Book a Table.
All in all – a first day well spent.
