friday morning at the end of week three

My personal gene pool has failed to pass on my fathers impeccable sense of direction. Its always been a huge bother... almost always do i confuse north for south east for up, west for down. I hate it. but for my purposes this morning it was just what i needed. 

I've always loved my all nighters. For some reason I had decided to log one more. I do my best academic work from the hours of 2 a.m. till 6... but this time I was unencumbered by the scrambling pursuit of a finished paper. No conclusion to haplessly band together before I hit print... no 5 a.m. visit to easy bib (admittedly the most shameful hour of these sessions). I did however read "Lear", which has been long over due, and a week in advance of the impending class discussion. I concluded the play after getting to wish Kayla pleasant dreams for the first time since i've been here.

Dawn has always been my favorite time of day. I look forward to becoming one of the geriatric regulars at valley dairy or eat n park you see very first thing in the morning... nothing to do but wait for the refill of coffee before ambling home to whatever the hell retired guys do all day.

I was set on seeing the sun rise over London from Primrose Hill, the north end of what is becoming my favorite spot in London; Regent park. I dressed for the occasion...

                        plain white tshirt....

                                      that pair of jeans that fit perfectly

                                                    black wool hat i seem to be the only fan of

                                       black cashmere scarf mom gave me the night before I left

                                                                   black plaid coat

                                                                                   purchased 

                           tennis shoes.

I left around 6... maybe later, i'm not sure. I passed through the empty lobby of Nido, and the night guards bade me 'good morning'...

                         no... not yet

                         not morning yet. I had to beat the morning. I had to get to Primrose Hill while it was still

                         night.

I walked at my usual intentional hustle down pentonville road...which becomes Euston road... which becomes Marlybone road...

                          I wont miss Medieval urban planning when I leave

The walk to the south east corner of regent park was longer than I remembered. Kayla had warned me to be careful. A small town boy has to keep alert in the mean streets of Islington. Though nearly desolate, Kings cross broadcasted the same verve it always does. It agitated me. tube arteries always agitate me

I whispered the few lines of shakespeare that have been cemented upstairs for last couple years as I walked. I dont know why. 

I do that sometimes.

a little mercutio                              a little hal

fragments of a sonnet I had to memorize in high school

There were no birds to hear... it should have been that time. 

I decided to not walk through the pitch-black alley gardens... imagining vagrants sleeping on every bench... a merry band of pickpockets.... laying in wait for some guy wearing a scarf to come shuffling through. a patch of light blue had gradually been spreading over the eastern sky

half way to the north end of regent park I turned down the long brick road that cuts the park in two... along the hedges dotted with street posts. the morning bird songs could be heard the second I passed under the trees. people jog at this time of morning... i'm sure they do it everyday. the walk was taking much longer than i anticipated at this point, and i started to regret not grabbing a bike outside of Nido... I made it to the inner circle road... I followed the circle, intending to cover about 90 degrees of it. it kept turning and turning, I was getting impatient. I even took a good jog when I decided no one was around... no one to wonder why the hell a guy in jeans and wool coat was jogging in the dark. God forbid I be taken for one of the creeps I myself was wary of...When i finally stopped to check a map I realized I had almost walked around the entire circle. I looked up and the BTN tower was right in front of me silhouetted by advancing morning. 

I haul down the nearest path west. 

no. sense. of. direction

(It can't just be for a lack of paying attention to where I'm going.

While I do enjoy the scenery too much wherever I am...

Its gotta be that i'm just not wired for navigation)

I was getting frustrated and stressed... completely counter productive to my whole agenda. I very nearly disregarded the dawn sky over the boating lake.... ducks everywhere. Geese landing... quacking honking. brighter each minute...

but come one... how perfect is this... enjoy the damn journey...

gawk unashamedly

I'm sweating. The sweat is now freezing cold. Why didn't I get a bike. Its almost 7 now.

Finally, 7:15, I cross primrose bridge, over the canal at the rear of the London Zoo... the African section. I'm disappointed... the painted dogs weren't out to laugh at me.

Primrose Hill is across the street. Its a long walk to the top through unkempt grass. Street lamps still light the walk ways. A few glances behind me to the east.

so much color above. So few people in the park... I collapse high on the slope. wet grass.

It was staggering. I had been on this same hill a week before. But this was new. Had I been able to see that far before? had the landscape been that unexpected the first time around? that wide? I'd walked a good bit of that city... 

not this colorful. Not streaked with pink. not green. . Not crisp

still. everything has been moving since i've got here... the tube. the street. my feet. even my room; perpetually inhabited by traffic noise...

I had arrived with just enough time to sit and observe, without a sound or motion. a few minutes where I could breathe cold air through burning nostrils. 

a biker arrived at the top of the hill... sat a little ways off form and and got out a large camera. a couple joggers clocked their times far enough behind me. It 7:36. no sun yet.

People who describe sunsets and sunrises are annoying.  I've seen them, you've seen them, and we all wrote an essay about one in junior high...

...

You didn't see this one, though.

 

best show i've seen so far.

So theres that. To those who don't care, hope you've either skipped ahead, or just clicked back to facebook. I know I would have by now.

I find myself heading nothing, wandering as I have done quite a lot since i've been here. Happy. Hoping to get lost. Heading north, away from the city and any familiar street. A sign points to a garden. I dont find it, but I do amble along perfectly imagined London neighborhoods. Hoping for a cafe. Actually, a particular cafe i've imagined in my head ever since i've been planning this trip. Its the kinda place that typifies European coffee houses. I just kinda assume their everywhere, and anyone hoping to get a random vision of me in this city will see me at this cafe, drinking a double espresso and a croissant. Inevitably I pass great little places all over, but i've got some notion that i'll know i've found what i'm looking and become uncharacteristically decisive. I'm nearing the time when early morning becomes the morning commute, and the serenity of dawn fades into memory, and its just another friday. I hate that time...

For over an hour I walk. Well trimmed hedges of kentish town suddenly turns into Camden Lock market. I had envisioned Camden Lock as a great, authentic bazaar where rare and unique items, mostly vintage, abound. What I found when I went during a busy shopping hour was the closet thing to a boardwalk that the UK has to offer. It was crowded with peddlers hoping to make a buck, and tacky tourists ready to oblige. At 5 till 8, its quiet and shut down, but a harsh and sudden change from southern Kentish town. By now I realize how cold I am. aching back. The acidic twinges of heartburn. My right foot throbbing in the lesser of a pair of tennis shoes i've had since high school. 8 O'clock hits and i'm reminded to expect crowds and traffic every second... I quickly turn off Camden road... back north towards Kentish... no idea where i'm going. the streets are at least quieter. but not a single cafe anywhere and i'm getting desperate, and ready to settle for the first thing that comes along. Even for half a second I consider turning back to a Pret, or a Nero's, or even a frickin starbucks.

Every street corner has a closed up pub i'd kill to turn into a cafe... but i'm at least satisfied in my surroundings... another perfectly british neighborhood... a couple tax brackets down from north of Regent park. Over the past 4 years i've become used to the inebriated 2 a.m. college crowd populating the streets. the 8:15 grade school populous is quite a change of pace. 

I settle. A corner cafe. Not what I had in mind, but i don't care. I'm the only one in. they had just opened. Double cappuccino and a croissant; my favorite breakfast (the breakfast i'd idealized before I came here). Fighting off disappointment, but the fatigue is significant. I sit outside. Drained. Fading. Losing the rapture of the early morning. Food brought to my table...

It wasn't what I was looking for... not that i knew what that was. But that croissant was warm, and that cappuccino was the best I've had. And its quiet again. Its the only restaurant in sight. No shops. No businesses. Just hidden somewhere in London I've never been, and probably wont find again. Entirely singular, and impossible to duplicate. 

I love my all nighters. I love the mornings that cap them off. 

and i really like London.

its a big circular road w no landmarks =>