My True Love

“You find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave London. No, Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford.” -Samuel Johnson

I am in love.

Head over heels, drop-dead smitten, had me at "Cheerio," unconditionally and irrevocably in love. I like to say that I left a little piece of my heart in all the places I have traveled to. And while this is the case for most countries, one place holds the key to my whole heart. The city of London.

I tell everyone that I have seen the likes of Sydney, Australia, which has been ranked the best city in the world for 8 years in a row. Been romanced on the charming canals of Venice, Italy, a favorite among most people. Seen wonders and ancient beauty in mysterious Kyoto, Japan. Indulged in the grapes of Burgundy and seen the lights of Paris, France. Indulged in delicious beer and chocolate in Belgium and Germany (can not decide which has better beer and chocolate.) I have now seen the Emerald Isle and all of it’s green spector and chased bagpipes and literary genius in Scotland. I have been to a lot of places around the world by this ripe old age of 20 years old. I realize how fortunate I am and yet, in all of these spectacular place, I truly have one love. London.

I cannot explain this phenomenon. From what I gather, even most Londoners are not too fond of their city. I suppose it is the same for my neighbors at home, who have either a love or hatred for New York City. I love New York, but not to the extent that I love London. There are no words to describe how strongly I love the city. Except that every time I hear someone say London, my heart flutters as a school girl with a little crush.

My love for London is returned to me in a wonderful feeling of being at home. It's an incredible feeling, that warm and tingly sensation of being home. It's a familiarity. It's the ability to know everything about something and still love it (or at least tolerate it.) You can go right into the closet and pull out a jar of strawberry jam and it would not be a problem. It's a comfortable bed and a feeling of safety. It's putting one's feet up in the sofa, a cup of tea with just the right amount of sugar and a crumpet to be washed down. It's comfortable and easy conversation over a big plate of comfort food and a pint of beer. It's home. And for some reason, I feel that way every time I am in London.

In New York, I always feel that the city is mine. It's familiar but it's a different kind of familiar. It's that good friend you have had for a very long time and you probably will have to the end of time. Yet you rarely see New York because they are always doing other things and moving quicker than you can keep up. It's the long conversations that only scratch the surface of the whole character. And after time, you realize you'll never truly know New York because it's too fast-paced and constantly changing for you. But that does not change what a good old pal they are, and how they will always be there for you. Paris is another old friend, but is also that snooty little spoiled kid you grew up with. Always more beautiful, smarter, cultured than you, and sure to tell you at every opportunity. Yet your still good friends with Paris because it amuses you and still has that magic it always has. But Paris is a small doses kind of friend. You still really enjoy spending time with them, but not too excessively. You can not take being with them for too long without feeling insulted by your lack of culture. And then there is London.

I love everything about London as well. I love the terribly gray weather because it brings out the brightest colors in umbrellas and rain boots. I love the bright red mail boxes that bear E R II, for the lovely queen. I love the smell of curry wafting through the streets, mingling only with the fried smell of fried fish. I love how terribly bland British food is, and how delightful and exotic ethnic food is here in this great city. I am obsessed with the Tube stations, “Mind the Gap,” and all the wonderfully elegant names for each station. Picadilly Circus, Leister Square, High Street Kensington, Notting Hill, Paddington. The theater district actually allows you to take food in and eat during the show. Pret a Manger on every street corner. Taxi cabs with more elegance than most cars. The preparation for the Olympics and the scaffolding on almost every building

I love feeling this blend of history and modernity in one city that simply works. New York is modern. Paris is old. London is a combination of the two. A combination that just works. The Tower of London in all of it's majestic ancient beauty has the gherkin building looming in the background and it just works wonderfully. Whereas a view of the Parisian city line with the Eiffel Tower is besmirched by that awful Montparnasse building, which is a complete and utter definition of an eye sore. New York does not have anything old. But London does not just have to be compared to other cities. A stroll down Notting Hill or Kensington brings out a suburb feeling. Hyde, St. James, and Green parks transport you effectively back into a green world.

I'm gushing now as I sit here and talk about London. I am remembering my time spent there and going back to a wonderful moment, that feeling of falling in love for the first time.