Enchantment in London
A fairytale in England
(Note to the reader: As you may notice, the post itself has been put up late. Know that the writing was constant throughout the 70 day trip and that, unfortunately, access to the internet was not. Thank you for your patience!)
So far, 43 days into our trip, England has been our favorite country. We might be a little biased since the language barrier here is practically non-existent (with the exception of a few words here and there). This was my first time in London. For Jordan, the view of Big Ben was much more familiar. He had come with his family multiple times on summer trips over the years. He was eager to show me around London, and I was anxious to see it.
As soon as we flew in, we dropped our suitcases off and headed for the river. The London Eye greeted me and introduced me to Big Ben. I immediately asked myself if Big Ben existed, do Peter Pan and the Lost Boys exist as well? I didn’t see why it couldn’t be a possibility. My eyes widened, my grip on Jordan’s hand tightened, and I began to search for Neverland as we continued our walk along Thames River.
Some of my favorite plays like Hamlet and Macbeth were “supposedly” written by Shakespeare. Although I took an amazing class on Shakespeare only last semester, the world of Shakespeare and the time when his plays were actually performed always seemed like a fantasy to me. It was so long ago that it seemed as distant to me as Neverland. However, walking passed the Globe Theatre brought Shakespeare a little closer to me. I concluded my visit in the Globe Theatre by deciding that Shakespeare plays were indeed performed by real human beings at a certain time and that my professor was right. They were real! I purchased a postcard there to send to my Shakespeare professor who had just retired, and happily went on my way… And then I put all things Shakespeare into my “Reality” folder where I might have put Big Ben and (secretly) Peter Pan in as well. The Rosetta Stone from the British Museum and Jordan punting in Cambridge would also be put into that folder. I only needed that one folder. To me, everything in London was real at one time or in some place.
For me, London became the place where real historical figures and events blended into a world of fiction, fantasy, and fairy tales. Things that happened hundreds of years ago, people that existed hundreds of years ago, they began to blur the lines of reality, myth, and legend.
While walking through tunnels, paths, or stairs, we would find quotes taken from classic literature carved into the concrete or stone. Lost letters from Henry occupied a large stone on the ground. It was up to me to simply walk over it unaware, or find the treasure and wonder on about those lost letters. Being a writer, I appreciated every letter that rested timelessly on the landscape of that city.
I don’t know what it was about London. I wanted to come back again before I had even left. I wanted to own a little flat on one of the top floors overlooking the streets. I really don’t know what it was…Perhaps it was the literature that came alive as I walked the streets with Jordan. Perhaps it was that one of the most traditional tennis tournaments was being held while we were there in the city. Perhaps it was that Andy Murray made history, and that wonderful tennis was being played every which way we looked when we were at Wimbledon. Perhaps it was just the glow of Big Ben shining through onto the river. Or perhaps it was more.
While I was being magically hypnotized by this charming city, Jordan took me through the streets. We stopped at a bake shop here and a coffee shop there. Then he took me to Borough Market, a place he had been to before. He impatiently walked ahead, pulling my enchanted self behind him. He took me to where he had had the best chorizos of his life… and he doesn’t even like chorizos. We ordered our sandwiches and sat on the corner of a giant pillar. With meat in one hand and napkin in the other, we looked at each other. Knowing Jordan, he was probably thinking about how he was eating a damn good chorizo with extra satisfaction because he was able to share it with me. His smile said it all.
And while I took a bite of my chorizo, I thought, here I am. I’m at Borough Market in London, England. I am sitting down eating an amazing sandwich with 3, maybe 4 ingredients. Across from me is an incredible human being who is looking at me with that idiot grin he has. It’s the one that says, all that I have is more than enough and I couldn’t be happier. We had the whole day ahead of us. We had the whole world ahead of us. And then with a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach I wondered… Is this real? Or is this my fairy tale? Or has London blurred the lines for me too? Is this my fairy tale made into reality? Do I deserve for this whole fairy tale to be true?
And then I looked at Jordan and shook my head until I smiled. He had sauce on his face, and that humongous grin was still there. I wiped the sauce from his face with my tiny napkin. His face was clean. That grin was still there. And then I stopped wondering if this was real or just a dream. London had taught me in only a matter of days: I didn’t need to decide what was real and what wasn’t all the time. I didn’t have to have folders and separate reality from fantasy. It was okay to let the two dance a little.
