The Brixton Market
The Brixton Market wasn’t the flashiest place I’ve ever been to. After climbing the stairs up from the underground I was confronted with a Sainsbury store and the market sprawling right next to it, nothing special. The air surrounding the area smelt sour like rotting milk. Stores selling fish and flesh lined the sides of the street, in the middle were cluster of tents selling knock-off clothes and lingerie. As I was standing looking at cheap trinkets I was brushed aside by a brisk walking woman. Even though the weather was sitting at a freezing drizzle she struts past in daisy dukes and a tight fitting tank top. What stood out to me were her legs. Long black hair covered them making it almost reasonable for her lack of pants in the freezing temperatures. She kept on walking like she owned the town, confidence radiated off her small frame as she wove between the tents. I glanced at one of my friends and laughed at their astonished gaze. We were in that part of town. The part where crack is king and the community is strong.
Hyde Park
I met my best friend the day we toured Hyde Park. We bonded under the cloudy sky enjoying our first outing in London that was outside of the markets. The park was beautiful. Dogs bounded in joy over the large expanses of grass playing fetch with their owners. We strolled next to ponds admiring the space around us. There was a huge sprawling pond filled with water birds slowly floating on the surface. We walked to a small food station and got some hot chocolate before continuing our walk through the huge space. We ended up next to a store next to a body of water, this is where the fun began. Some of the other students on the trip went in and bought bird feed for the hundreds of pigeons and the elegant swans swimming close by. Most of us spent the next 20 minutes feeding the birds, my new friend gave me a glove so the swan’s beak wouldn’t hurt my hand. What a joyful time.
Borough Market
It was an icy afternoon in London and our small group of American students obediently followed father duck to the first market of the trip. We wove our way past the London Eye and Tate Modern Museum wiping our running noses and smoking quick cigs. The Thames River ran right next to our walking path. Boats drove past and under the massive bridges that ran over the water. It was a beautiful part of the city but I knew too things that need to change, I was hungry and thirsty. We finally made it to the market. It was my dreamland, food at every turn, warm cider booths, and samples! From here we scurried around taking pictures and taking in the rich smells, searching for food that would satisfy our hunger. I was not disappointed when I found myself standing in front of a fresh seafood booth serving simmering mussels. I came back to Borough many times after the first.
Homeless
There was one night me and a few friends decided to test out London’s night life. We were all looking very spiffy and proceeded to hail a cab to take us to the SoHo district. We sped walked through the chilled smoggy air until we made it to a spot by the Goodge Underground entrance. We got the taxi to notice in no time, but while we were piling in another was trying to follow us. A homeless man had jumped from his sleeping bag cocoon and threw his hands into the taxi reaching after us begging for money. We looked at him startled and told him no but he stood fast in the door, he wouldn’t budge. The taxi driver was getting angry and started to shout at him to “get the fuck out of my door”. He wouldn’t budge. Our driver looked at us and then peeled away, causing the homeless man to let go and fall forward with a defeated gasp. I shut the door and we had a great rest of the night.
Homesick
London was marvelous, everywhere we went I felt safe and immersed in history. Red double decker buses flew by and I ended up becoming a master navigator of the tube system. The markets brought so much excitement. They allowed me to gorge in new foods everyday, drink hot cider, and find hidden treasures. I developed a strong love for strong IPAs and the Sainsbury’s chocolate cakes. We took long walks, went and tasted the night life, and the freedom of being able to explore any nook imaginable. But late at night I began to question, what’s different about London from the rest. Everyone in life is on the struggle. Homeless sleep and beg on all corners of population. I ached for my comfort zone, back in my bubble where I didn’t worry about how no matter where one goes, problems follow. Flying thousands of miles away might leave them behind for a moment while you’re distracted by the new surrounding, people, and lights. But then they will creep up in the night, watching your body sleep in the corner while your soul dies in its dreams.
The Brixton Market wasn’t the flashiest place I’ve ever been to. After climbing the stairs up from the underground I was confronted with a Sainsbury store and the market sprawling right next to it, nothing special. The air surrounding the area smelt sour like rotting milk. Stores selling fish and flesh lined the sides of the street, in the middle were cluster of tents selling knock-off clothes and lingerie. As I was standing looking at cheap trinkets I was brushed aside by a brisk walking woman. Even though the weather was sitting at a freezing drizzle she struts past in daisy dukes and a tight fitting tank top. What stood out to me were her legs. Long black hair covered them making it almost reasonable for her lack of pants in the freezing temperatures. She kept on walking like she owned the town, confidence radiated off her small frame as she wove between the tents. I glanced at one of my friends and laughed at their astonished gaze. We were in that part of town. The part where crack is king and the community is strong.
Hyde Park
I met my best friend the day we toured Hyde Park. We bonded under the cloudy sky enjoying our first outing in London that was outside of the markets. The park was beautiful. Dogs bounded in joy over the large expanses of grass playing fetch with their owners. We strolled next to ponds admiring the space around us. There was a huge sprawling pond filled with water birds slowly floating on the surface. We walked to a small food station and got some hot chocolate before continuing our walk through the huge space. We ended up next to a store next to a body of water, this is where the fun began. Some of the other students on the trip went in and bought bird feed for the hundreds of pigeons and the elegant swans swimming close by. Most of us spent the next 20 minutes feeding the birds, my new friend gave me a glove so the swan’s beak wouldn’t hurt my hand. What a joyful time.
Borough Market
It was an icy afternoon in London and our small group of American students obediently followed father duck to the first market of the trip. We wove our way past the London Eye and Tate Modern Museum wiping our running noses and smoking quick cigs. The Thames River ran right next to our walking path. Boats drove past and under the massive bridges that ran over the water. It was a beautiful part of the city but I knew too things that need to change, I was hungry and thirsty. We finally made it to the market. It was my dreamland, food at every turn, warm cider booths, and samples! From here we scurried around taking pictures and taking in the rich smells, searching for food that would satisfy our hunger. I was not disappointed when I found myself standing in front of a fresh seafood booth serving simmering mussels. I came back to Borough many times after the first.
Homeless
There was one night me and a few friends decided to test out London’s night life. We were all looking very spiffy and proceeded to hail a cab to take us to the SoHo district. We sped walked through the chilled smoggy air until we made it to a spot by the Goodge Underground entrance. We got the taxi to notice in no time, but while we were piling in another was trying to follow us. A homeless man had jumped from his sleeping bag cocoon and threw his hands into the taxi reaching after us begging for money. We looked at him startled and told him no but he stood fast in the door, he wouldn’t budge. The taxi driver was getting angry and started to shout at him to “get the fuck out of my door”. He wouldn’t budge. Our driver looked at us and then peeled away, causing the homeless man to let go and fall forward with a defeated gasp. I shut the door and we had a great rest of the night.
Homesick
London was marvelous, everywhere we went I felt safe and immersed in history. Red double decker buses flew by and I ended up becoming a master navigator of the tube system. The markets brought so much excitement. They allowed me to gorge in new foods everyday, drink hot cider, and find hidden treasures. I developed a strong love for strong IPAs and the Sainsbury’s chocolate cakes. We took long walks, went and tasted the night life, and the freedom of being able to explore any nook imaginable. But late at night I began to question, what’s different about London from the rest. Everyone in life is on the struggle. Homeless sleep and beg on all corners of population. I ached for my comfort zone, back in my bubble where I didn’t worry about how no matter where one goes, problems follow. Flying thousands of miles away might leave them behind for a moment while you’re distracted by the new surrounding, people, and lights. But then they will creep up in the night, watching your body sleep in the corner while your soul dies in its dreams.