My desire for UK was fueled by my joy of literature and the wealth of writers that hailed from this place. Charles Dickens. J K Rowling. William Wordsworth. Rudyard Kipling. Heck, I was even a reading a book called The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman – another UK writer. England, with a town named Reading, was upon us, and we arrived with gumption.
Fatigue was overwritten by anticipation and the lack of realization we were here on ground zero. Plane revealed the rolling hills of the area. We shipped off our luggage directly to the hotel as we hopped on a train to the city. We had a set agenda–one of walking the streets of London. Half an hour later (from Gatwick) we stepped out and fittingly, our first stop was a cathedral, the St. Paul’s’ Cathedral where we got to sit down, pray, meditate, and immerse ourselves in the rich, royal history of this area. Famous people were buried here was not lost upon us through the crypt. A quick coffee and sugar break later, knowing we had just fell from the sky after sleepless eight-hour plane-ride, we had no intention of stopping. Meandering through bicycle event, the narrow streets, the phone booths, past the double Decker red buses, the black boxy taxis, our second stop was for my oldest and the Leadenhall Market…a market shown in the Harry Potter movies.
Respecting the limits of our bodies to not outstretch the reach of enthusiasm, we took a break at the ruins of St. Dunstan’s Church where lovers had parked themselves taking one shot after another. Dua crashed their photos or ran after pigeons.
A quiet moment later, we were atop the Sky Garden to take the 360 degree of London in for free.
Aloo Parathas from home and frequent stops for street food fueled us. But after we climbed down the Sky Tower and made our way to the Tower Bridge, it was 5:30 p.m., and we were on mile three. My daughter tugged on my hand and asked, “Mamma, where is our car? Why did you not get a car? We can’t walk all of London?” I smiled. I wanted to walk. I planned to walk, but jet lag combined with the amount of walking (6 miles per day) was testing our desires to stick to the plan. We lumbered. We huffed. My oldest dragged his feet. We got our pic taken south of the river. We saw a gay couple in white gown get married; We walked along the riverwalk past Hay’s Galleria where Jab Tak Hain Jan’s Shahrukh Khan solo song was filmed. Indian restaurant we had planned on eating at was booked. But there was another spicy Indian burger place we settled for. And to bless our tired bodies, our hotel turned out to be quiet and comfortable escape in the middle of a bustling city.
Out of our breaking bodies, came pines of desires and buried emotions. We loved London to the core. One night of ‘London Sleep’ separated us from our last day in this uniquely beautiful city.
