A Tourist in London - Part I

Only a year ago I could count on one hand the amount of times I had visited our countries capital and the majority of those visits were to any of the London airports to fly out of the country.

It’s fair to say that I am not the city’s biggest fan and when I do go there I feel like a tourist. Getting the tube literally can fill me with fear and dread, and I am not of a nervous disposition. I can honestly say that I don’t know where I am going and find the tube maps utterly confusing and the locals that are au fait with the system are not the most helpful. I have been hustled and bustled around as I haven’t been fast enough in moving forward or knowing where I am going and the ‘Londonites’ scurry around looking on with distaste like I shouldn’t be there. Similar to the feeling you get when you are not wearing your best and find yourself in Ralph Lauren or Dolce & Gabbana being eye-balled by the immaculately dressed and coiffured woman behind the counter who has already assumed you can’t afford anything.

Then there is the public transport code of rules; don’t make eye contact, don’t start conversation and generally keep out of the way. No one talks to anyone or offers advice if you are clearly lost or even helps if you are struggling with bags that have got trapped in the doors. I have previously made the mistake of asking someone for help once and literally got pushed out of the way. Making eye contact is a prison sentence as the slightest twitch of the eye or connecting with someone else is going to mean your intentions to be polite are taken as a sign you are going to mug someone. When did we become such a pessimistic and worrisome nation?

And not to forget that all Londonites can be distinguished from tourists by the ‘commuter shuffle’. A touch like power walking but with weapons; briefcases, umbrellas, laptop bags etc. If you happen to get in the path of a herd of shufflers getting off the tube there is a high possibility that you will get swept along with them like a gaggle of lemmings and either get taken down or come out with bruises. The shuffler's weapons act as a device to part the crowds and god forbid should you be innocently standing in their path. Bruised, battered and over heating is how I left Waterloo after my first solo tube experience.