We all *heart* London

Let me start by saying that long before I'd ever actually visited "the square mile" I'd decided I adored London. I was probably about eight or nine, and I'd read about Madame Tussaud's wax museum in a young person's book, though, try as I might I can't remember what the book was. (Ringing a bell for anyone? It was probably a Newbery Award winner -- I thought the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler -- but that doesn't make sense because they all lived in New York).

That was around the time that my parents took the family to France for three weeks--a first venture to Europe for my brother and I. While we did not, by any means, appreciate Europe as an adult would, there are portions of the trip that are still immensely memorable to me (including hearing Samantha Fox perform "Touch me, Touch me now" one night two blocks from our hotel at the Roman amphitheater in Arles).

I was disappointed that the trip would not include a venture to England. I tried to convince my parents we could take the ferry over, but alas, it was not in the plans.

So, it wasn't until I was about twenty-two that I got my first look at Big Ben. England was my first stop on a back-packing trip around Europe. I'd actually planned to stay there for about six weeks while working on one of those student exchange visas at a pub in Leceister square. For about three days I happily pulled the taps and made Lager shandy's for the tourists stopping into an "authentic British pub" (with a Yankee barmaid who was anything but authentic).

At the end of the third night I got into a shouting match with my very temperamental, very British boss (angry Brits are scary) and screamed "Well, I quit" in his ruddy snarl of a face, stormed out of the place with my American pride and indignation -- only to head back to the flat I was renting for the month and break down. I went out on the street to one of those charming red phone booths, called my mother and sobbed.

So, plans changed, I reworked my finances, and I ended up heading to mainland Europe much sooner than anticipated. But before that -- I had several days to tour London. And I really did take to it. I bought my favorite suede jacket (which has been worn to shreds) at Camden Yards, I had a cream tea in Hyde Park, I saw some fabulous theater at the National and the Globe (to this day, some of the best theater I have seen) and I walked the streets without a schedule -- one of my favorite thing to do in a new city, and what a city to do it in.

Since that trip I've been through the city two more times -- for various reasons, that I will perhaps explain in a later post. If I were so bold as to make definitive statements, I would probably name it my second favorite city in the world (yeah, after New York).

So yesterday, well, yesterday sucked.

I don't have words of great wisdom about the terrorist attack in London. But I have been following the events (and was doing so yesterday) at their "ist" affiliate Londonist.com. The reports continued throughout the day, and were much more current than any of the major media venues, because blogs have that capability.

So I am pulling some excerpts from posts from that site.

I love that, in typical Brit fashion, they have picked up and gone about their job, continuing to write and completely without sentimentality. I wonder if there will be t-shirts and posters and frosted drinking glasses dedicated to the event like there were for the twin towers. I kind of think not. And while sure, the magnitude of yesterday's events was minor compared to 9/11, I do think it is an interesting reflection on our respective national characters.

It is why the Brits have so much trouble with American theatre. They think we reveal too much and are crying all the time. And we usually are.

First from the close of day yesterday afternoon:

18:02 There's little more to be said here; Londonist is ending coverage for the day. We'll be resuming the best coverage we can handle tomorrow.

Yeah, they hit us. But we didn't go down. Londonist's sympathies go to the victims, and we like to think of the hot sweat that is breaking out across the brows of a fair few terrorist nutters right now - we're coming for you, you fuckers

And like I said, hell hath no fury like the English scorned.

Today, they included these words from another poster:

In the days that follow look at our airports, look at our sea ports and look at our railway stations and, even after your cowardly attack, you will see that people from the rest of Britain, people from around the world will arrive in London to become Londoners and to fulfill their dreams and achieve their potential.

They choose to come to London, as so many have come before because they come to be free, they come to live the life they choose, they come to be able to be themselves. They flee you because you tell them how they should live. They don't want that and nothing you do, however many of us you kill, will stop that flight to our city where freedom is strong and where people can live in harmony with one another. Whatever you do, however many you kill, you will fail.

The words could apply to any of the great, democratic cities of the world. No matter what happens, people will keep coming to the cities. They come to find freedom of expression, freedom of religion, freedom to have shitloads of piercings and tattoos, freedom to cross-dress, freedom to love whomever they want to love, freedom to dance in the streets, freedom to speak any language and wear whatever-the-fuck they want to wear, freedom to stand for their cause, freedom to create their art, freedom to order out any food they want every night of the week, freedom to never have to drive a car again, freedom to walk to work, freedom never to eat at chain restaurants. freedom to ride a metro or tube or subway, freedom to live and breathe and sweat and grow amongst masses and masses of people.

That's why people come to the cities. That's why people will always come to the cities.

Oh god, and on a low note this link. So yeah -- that too -- freedom to never, ever watch Fox news.