London: The Grumpy City or Where it Is Dangerous to Be a Pedestrian!

Listen up, London locals, let us just address this grumpy thing right now. Yes, you live in a very expensive city. Yes, it rains a lot, and is cold, even in August, if there is so much as a single cloud in the sky. Yes, the cars here zoom around like little ants, and are just as likely to run over your foot (or all the rest of you) as said insect and with just as little regard for the fact that you are in the way. And yes, everyone rushes around and never gets anywhere because no one actually knows how to walk. But that is no reason to… Oh. Well alright, I suppose I can see why you’re grumpy. I mean, it’s not like you live in one of the most amazing cities on the planet, with fairly inexpensive access to almost *all* the *other* most amazing cities in the world, or anything. I apologize for almost raining on your grumpy parade.

But seriously, why the long, irritated faces? (And attitudes!) I don’t get it…

I am amused (with all the parts of me that aren’t dismayed) by the reality of the British tendency to be Oh So Politely Rude. For instance, the Man on the Train: One day, during the very first week of school, an older gentleman stepped off the train behind me and scolded me for defiling my book with orange highlighter. He turned to me and said, "Didn't your parents teach you to treat your books with respect?" I agreed that they had, and he then demanded to know why I was ruining my book by marking in it that way. "You could just mark the margins with pencil and then rub it out later,” he told me, and lamented, “I guess that’s just the way the world’s going now.” He was just so offended that I would permanently mar my book! Then he must have noticed the Pepperdine sweatshirt I was wearing, because he frowned a little and asked me if I was a student. I told him that I was, and he nodded and said, “Well, alright then.” Then he frowned a bit more, and walked away.

I’m really not sure whether that last statement means that my transgression is excused by my student status, or just that my student-ness explains my lack of respect for books… In any case, I spent the entirety of the conversation in a state of amused semi-shock. My mental response sort of went like this: Huh? Is he talking to me? Oh. Wha— Is he really…? I think I had a sort of half smile thing going too. Because this conversation is one that would never happen back home. The idea that a person has the right to step in and correct others for perceived mistakes is very un-American. It was very strange, and very funny, and has made me a little self-conscious about reading for school on the tube. Not that I don’t do it anyway!

Let’s see, what else…

I’ve mentioned before that people are much quieter and more subdued here. (Generally. I’ve seen a few obliviously loud people. And several loudly drunken people. And disruptive teenagers, it seems, are the same the world over. I’m talking to you, 15-year-olds making out in the seat across from me. Not only is that not polite public behavior, you’re really just too young. Stop it.) I recently had my first glimpse of why the English consider us obnoxiously loud. Three American girls, apparently studying for the year in London, got on the tube one afternoon, chatting and laughing in the usual way. My first reaction was a rush of affection for the sound of American accents. After several minutes, however, I noticed they were really the only thing you could hear. Whereas most conversations on the tube are hushed enough that, unless you’re sitting next to or across from someone, you can’t hear more than a murmuring sound, these girls were clearly audible throughout the entire car. And completely oblivious to it. It was sort of a revelation. “Oh!” I thought, “this is what it's like to be near me when I’m being loud!” ^_^ (Oops! Sorry everyone!)

Everyone queues here. Even when people are just walking down the sidewalk, or through the tube stations, they tend to line up, with everyone going one direction on one half of the sidewalk, and everyone going the other direction on the other half. It’s very odd. Also, no one here knows how to walk. Half the people rush around at crazy speeds, and the other half strolls. None of them can walk and do other things at the same time. If there’s a stroller or suitcase (or phone!) involved, forget it. This is a little frustrating for those of us walking behind them. Also, sometimes, people just walk, and shove other people out of the way. For instance, one evening, on the way home from school, there were maybe five people spread out on the sidewalk within several yards of each other. This thin-as-a-rail blond girl was barreling down the street coming towards us, with tons of room to maneuver between us, but instead she walked straight ahead, shouldered people out of her way, and demanded that we “Move!” Really?!

And now for the important stuff: Harry Potter, Part I:

I live in Harry Potter land!!! I got to go see Platform 9 ¾! A friend (who’s been here before) took me to see it after I mentioned that I had attempted, and failed, to find it on one of my previous trips through Kings Cross Station. There’s a bunch of construction going on at Kings Cross at the moment, so apparently they’ve moved it, and a nice policeman (who was hanging about looking quite bored) actually showed us where it’s been moved to. And we took pictures! Yay!