Panic in the Streets of London
Oct. 19th, 2011 11:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smackshack posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
exercise_every_dayCan I treat the time I spend wandering the streets of London being AGT (Another Goddamn Tourist) as exercise? If so, then I've been vigorous in my commitment to daily exercise. The British Museum, the British Library, countless little bookstores, the Eye (which conjures images of Sauron, I'm afraid), the National Theatre (the backstage tour is fucking brilliant), Waterstones, Marks & Spencer (which I've realized is roughly equivalent in American terms to treating Sears or J.C. Penney's as a tourist destination, but I can't help being raised on syndicated British comedy shows)...and more to come.
(The British Museum is a kind of death-march of antiquities...I adore it, but I think I need to go back a dozen times to do it anything resembling justice.)
If we're only counting formal exercise, then this evening I did planks and then went for a run in Belgravia. I didn't plan my route in advance, so the second time I found myself in front of Sloane Square Station---thinking that I'd made it back to my bed & breakfast instead---I started to actually pay attention to where I was.
There's a big difference between jogging in Hyde Park at 6 am and jogging on city streets at 7 pm, and that's the fear of death. At 6 am in the park the most dangerous things about appear to be health-conscious yuppies and sleepy geese. If violent perverts lurk in the bushes, then so far they've left the jogging Texan tourists alone. At 7 pm in the evening, by contrast, every vehicle in London actively wants to kill the stupid Yankee who can't remember where the traffic comes from. What started as an enjoyable jaunt became a slightly terrifying quest for recognizable landmarks as I attempted to find Ecclestone St. or Elizabeth St. before I was killed by an impatient cabbie or a growling Mercedes turning right from the (American) left-turn lane.
Nevertheless...I'm not dead yet! London gets to try again tomorrow. :-D
PS - The National Theatre is fucking brilliant. And the British Museum. And the British Library...the "King's Library" section is pure pornography. Absolute bibliomaniac filth.
(The British Museum is a kind of death-march of antiquities...I adore it, but I think I need to go back a dozen times to do it anything resembling justice.)
If we're only counting formal exercise, then this evening I did planks and then went for a run in Belgravia. I didn't plan my route in advance, so the second time I found myself in front of Sloane Square Station---thinking that I'd made it back to my bed & breakfast instead---I started to actually pay attention to where I was.
There's a big difference between jogging in Hyde Park at 6 am and jogging on city streets at 7 pm, and that's the fear of death. At 6 am in the park the most dangerous things about appear to be health-conscious yuppies and sleepy geese. If violent perverts lurk in the bushes, then so far they've left the jogging Texan tourists alone. At 7 pm in the evening, by contrast, every vehicle in London actively wants to kill the stupid Yankee who can't remember where the traffic comes from. What started as an enjoyable jaunt became a slightly terrifying quest for recognizable landmarks as I attempted to find Ecclestone St. or Elizabeth St. before I was killed by an impatient cabbie or a growling Mercedes turning right from the (American) left-turn lane.
Nevertheless...I'm not dead yet! London gets to try again tomorrow. :-D
PS - The National Theatre is fucking brilliant. And the British Museum. And the British Library...the "King's Library" section is pure pornography. Absolute bibliomaniac filth.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-20 01:47 am (UTC)Hell, I "houseworkout".
no subject
Date: 2011-10-20 07:31 am (UTC)http://www.ucl.ac.uk/museums/petrie
It's the diametrical opposite of the British Museum in some ways; the British Museum has the gigantic statues, and the Petrie has cases crammed full of tiny objects of everyday life that have somehow, miraculously, survived.
Like a child's ragdoll from several thousand years ago.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-20 08:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-20 09:00 am (UTC)My other favourite secret museum, which I also find very moving in certain ways, though it does require a high tolerance of body parts in jars:
http://www.rcseng.ac.uk/museums
no subject
Date: 2011-10-20 08:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-21 11:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-20 01:27 pm (UTC)Also, my partner who spent her childhood in London agrees with you about the British Museum.
Also, The Eye of London makes *me* think of Doctor Who. :grins:
no subject
Date: 2011-10-21 11:44 pm (UTC)* I concede that this is a character defect. At some point I need to stop seeing the "OMG I'm In London!" thing and start seeing a city full of ordinary people. :-/