If I had time and no schoolwork nor competitions to prepare for, no books to read, no exhibitions to see, no internship, no job.. and if I had an Internet connection at my new home, I would surely keep my promise and tell you all about my trip to London this summer.
I would try to keep myself from saying how great and wonderful and superb London was because it seems like such an obvious thing anyway. I might mention the way my flight ticket was booked for the wrong month and I ended up paying way too much for a new one and spending one night in Karlsruhe, at a nice airport worker's place. Or that once landed and on the coach for the city centre, I got a glimpse of a Banksy painting in a neglected part of town. I would probably brag about free cocktails and champagne in a trendy bar on my first night there, and about the place I was couch surfing which was quite far from the centre but a nice, typically british flat/house in front of which was a Volkswagen repair shop with many beautiful hippy-buses and even the original car that had starred in "Herbie".
I might have described my days full of museums and more or less aimless wandering around and discovering Tate Modern, Tate Britain, taking a look at the Tower Bridge and at the soldiers in front of Buckingham Palace, taking a soy latté in one of the thousands of Starbuck's and having my breath taken away when I first stepped out from the underground at Picadilly Circus station and saw the famous square.
Or spending one whole day running around the rainy Oxford Street, shopping and looking at people. Or taking the bus in the wrong direction ('cause if the underground system is quite clear, except for the zones, the buses in London are very confusing) and ending up discovering Chelsea. And what a wonderful place it was: I passed timidly in front of the haute couture boutiques and the red-brick houses with maids and drivers and their rich employers in them... Quite awestrucking.
I would probably mention the vegan restaurants I visited: one in Kensington, with a great menu, home-like ambiance and friendly customers and the other one near Oxford Street, where you pay by the scoops and can choose between numerous salads and stews and deserts and can even take away. I might also add enthusiastically that in every shop and pre-packed food place it's always marked whether something was vegetarian or vegan.
Finally I'd definitely describe the way London had felt like home from the very first moment I set foot there. The way people seemed less stressed than for example in Paris and were very friendly. The way I came across estonians every single day, once even took the bus sitting right behind a group of them and eavesdropping on their conversation. The way I was never afraid of getting lost and the way rain seemed to be a romantic part of the city life. The way I suddenly felt as if anything was possible, as if endless opportunities were peeking in my direction, waiting to be seized. The reassuring way in which the question "where are you from?" was no longer an unfriendly and alienating one, but a normal part of making acquaintance. The way "fucking fabulous!" were the keywords of my visit there, surging up on every corner, inspired by the architecture and the people and the dazzling everything else.
Yes my friends, if I was really looking for means of procrastination, I would definitely tell you all about this. But I'm a responsible and hardworking person, so I'll just have to content myself with telling you that London was fucking fabulous! Take it or leave it.
