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When I found myself in London after a nearly 20-year pause, I was elated by a particular feeling I had had every time I visited the British capital – the feeling that London is the most natural place in the world to find oneself. Visitors rarely have the feeling that they are supposed to be where they are, or that it was inevitable that they ended up where they are, in this case London. Is this because of London's high media profile or for some other reason? Honestly, I don't really know. Despite my inability to explain it, however, it is absolutely true that regardless of where you come from, you feel at home in London. One reason is that it is impossible to spend a day in London without hearing your mother tongue. They say that more than 200 languages are spoken in London.
I already noticed at Heathrow Airport that London taxi cabs, the most recognizable in the world, are painted purple. I could not believe my eyes. I waited for another to come along, a black one, as this is what I expected. The driver – a Briton in his late fifties – laughed heartily at my remarks about the colour of the taxi in front of us.
"Modern world, sir, modern world", he said through laughter.
"I'm all for the modern world, but this is like Big Ben turned digital!"
And the British are supposed to be conservative! Actually, had someone said several months ago that neo-Nazis would emerge in Israel, we would probably smile dismally. I mean, modern world...
Well now, London. When you surf the Internet, you find innumerable hits mentioning London, and it would take several decades to even skim through them. There are some 370 million sites devoted to it, making London the fourth most frequently mentioned city, after New York, Paris and Washington, according to my prima facie analysis.
London may be found each night on some TV channel, and it appears regularly in the press and in films, while images of its landmarks are omnipresent. Yet, simulations are devoid of substance, as the atmosphere of the city is impossible to convey; the incredible atmosphere that ranges from rigid conservativism to absolute liberalism, every shade of skin colour and mixture of race, every cultural category from hippies to yuppies, and the most diverse symbols of stature, from dignified Roll-Royce cars made in the mid-20th century to Trabant cars that look as though they came off the production line just yesterday. Avidly observing the different types of cars along the way, I seriously strained my neck by the time I concluded that the canvas-top Porsche is this season's choice and that the best cars in the world are driven in London. I had a good mind to take a photo of a Mini Morris in a typical London setting when a small Arab "tribe" headed by their leader ran out from a nearby house entrance. It took me a half hour to convince them that I'm a reporter and not the car mafia spying cars to be stolen later.
Setting aside one day to tour the city to revive memories, I joined the seemingly endless river of tourists with digital cameras in hand.
"A bit to the left, just a little more, more, that's it!"
The Big Ben, Downing Street, Trafalgar Square, the Tower, Marble Arch, Hyde Park, the Buckingham Palace, museums... (The choice is random and the order arbitrary) and everything else is committed to the camera's memory, only to disappear into the darkness of a hard disc on some computer who knows where.
Younger people mostly snap shots on their cell phones and immediately send the photographs with messages to somebody back home: "This is me, and you can see for yourself where I am!"
The day passed in a jiff y and I spent the evening like any other worn-out tourist after trying to see as much as possible in one day, and photographing even more. It was Thursday.
I spent Friday observing life in the city. In some sense, it is horrifying. People rush in a hurry to the Underground, often with a newspaper in one hand and a plastic cup of coffee in the other, and the unavoidable laptop computer on their back. Traffic is very dense but it flows, without stoppages. A brief calm sets in until lunch break, and after that the afternoon rush hour begins. The heavy but unimpeded traffic does not collapse in the rain, proving that it is possible to keep traffic moving in a city of that size. It is an almost incredible sight to a Belgrader, who is used to witnessing traffic collapse frequently.
Friday night... Well, of course, the pub. Any pub will do, anywhere in the city. The noise and racket, beer, whiskey and vodka, but mostly beer, create a good atmosphere. The pub is the London variety of an anti-stress programme, enabling one to forget the rush in which they live Monday through Friday... There are, of course, a number of other possibilities scarcely to be found elsewhere in the world... But, if one is to do what is proper, then the pub is a must...
Saturday morning and Hyde Park. This is something to be experienced. I don't know if there are any tourist packages offering Saturday mornings in the world's best known park, but if they already don't, they should include such tours as part of their offer.
It is still quite early in the morning in the vast green oasis. The first to emerge are joggers in brightly-coloured sweat suits and earphones as they go for their Saturday spin. After that, the entire city converges here. Strollers, picnickers, those who just want to bask in the sun, or those carrying racquets for badminton, lawn tennis or something of the sort, a stray tourist or two, cyclists, horseback riders and those who have come to play a recreational game of football.
In Hyde Park, it became clear to me that the British just had to kick the leather ball across the English Channel and infect the whole world…. Football is played everywhere, from two guys kicking a ball back and forth to fully equipped teams on a full-scale pitch... It is played in the typical English manner, with no let-ups, to the last atom of strength, as if every game were some finals match at Wembley. Football is played by those who have just learned to walk and by those who have come to Hyde Park straight from a geriatric home. The Sikhs are especially fun to watch because they play with their traditional turbans that remain in place even when they hit the ball with their heads. They make a frightening noise when they play...
Dignified-looking horseback riders in elegant riding outfits and shiny black boots watch aloofly at the goings-on around them... They are, indeed, a sport aristocracy.
With great interest I followed the copper signs on the asphalt to the fountain made in memory of Princess Diana of Wales… I've read that the fountain was made to reflect the life and tragic death of the princess and to reflect her closeness to the people -- one is allowed to dip one's feet into the fountain's water. A closeness that's a bit too drastically displayed, I thought. The designers, Karin Gustafson and Neil Porter, proved that a good architect can find a proper form and endow anything with meaning. The 545 pieces of marble from Cornwall were cut with computer precision and crafted in the traditional manner. The water flow was made in the shape of an irregular ellipse; the water encounters barriers and then meanders peacefully as its surface reflects light. The water flow alternates, rapid and mercurial one moment, and peaceful and docile the next, reflecting a joy and openness towards life. Water and stone indeed reflect the life of the most popular princess in British history, invoking closeness with ordinary people. One may sit on the fountain and dip one's tired feet into the water. It seems like a natural thing to do, just as it is natural to lie down on the warm marble facing the sun. This fountain will safeguard the memory of the princess who was beloved by the entire planet, and it will also serve as a symbol of architectural creativity...
| Thinking about the work of Karin Gustafson and Porter, I sipped a good cappuccino in a restaurant on the pond before leaving the park. On the marked pedestrian crossing, a smiling red double-decker bus driver, evidently from Jamaica, stopped to let me pass. I looked around and learned that I was the only pedestrian. With a cheerful movement of the hand, he waved me to cross the street. As I come from a city in which drivers seem ready to run you over if you're not careful, perhaps even in your own living room, I very cautiously proceeded to cross the street. "There has to be a hidden camera somewhere", I thought to myself, continuing in bolder strides at the halfway mark. The bus continued on its way, taking a Bob Marley song with it, leaving me alone and shamed. Eh, my Rastafari friend, you'd do well to go to Belgrade for a training course on how to beat the competition as a driver and how to survive as a pedestrian. It is more exciting than a Safari in Kenya, that's for sure. One could even make a video game based on the experience. |
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I devoted Saturday afternoon to shopping. Attempted shopping… London is an expensive city, making shopping unprofitable. I toured Harrods just for fun and bought two pairs of cotton socks for six pounds, more as a souvenir because I can get socks exactly like those for six euros across the English Channel, in New York for six dollars.
Then again, "A loaf of bread in Salonika is just one dinar, but the road to Salonika takes a hundred loaves to reach". Nevertheless, hypothetically speaking, an overseas flight with a low cost airline company during the sales season... We used to travel all night to shop in Trieste, Italy, back in the days of Yugoslavia's middle class expansion. Ok, those were different times, but it's an idea…. On Monday, London and I parted ways with an "until we see each other again" feeling instead of good-bye. As I left, I remained firmly convinced that anything less than two weeks is much too short for a visit to London. Although, I don't mind; even a mere 24 hours can be satisfying.
And while Captain Stupar announced fine weather in Belgrade, I kept thinking just how much time it would take to get across Belgrade's Gazela Bridge. It takes two hours and fifteen minutes from London to Belgrade, and from Belgrade airport to downtown Belgrade – one hour and fifteen minutes. Traffic, transport, transition...
| During the winter schedule valid from October 2007 through March 2008, Jat Airways has a daily flight from Belgrade to London. The B-737-300 aircraft take off from Belgrade’s Nikola Tesla Airport at 10:35 a.m. and from Heathrow airport at 1:30 p.m. | | 
