The Other Side of the Other London

I visited Spain this past weekend. It’s been well over a month since I visited another country, which was the UK. In typical Marshall in Strange Places fashion, it’s taken me that long to get around to writing about my London visit. Expect a similar wait for a Madrid post.

Two work-friends and I tagged a visit to London after some client presentations on a Friday in Bristol. It was one fun trip, and I would jump at the chance to visit London again. All the more since I didn’t get to visit a few places I wanted to do, like the British Museum, HMS Belfast, all the history nerd stuff.

I could write about the mighty Thames, the Tate Modern and Big Ben and what not... But I won’t. Here’s a quick recap of the real, sometimes strange London we saw.

It snowed a lot there!

Great food that’s bad for you too

Regular visitors to this blog have heard me harp on my love of fresh fruit and vegetables. I admit I have an unhealthy side that bubbles up often – after all, I am someone who proudly mentions he has been 7/11 Tacquito-free for over 15 months.

With so little fresh produce and almost no flavourful food but curry, I’d have trouble living there but visiting when you’re in gluttonous holiday mode is dangerous (which I often am). Everywhere I went fish and chips and the famously fatty English breakfast were all lurking around corner, waiting to give me love handles.

The Second Spanish Armada

My London travelling companions included a Spaniard and a Mexican, both are not native English speakers. When possible issues arose over our hotel reservations, the role of chief negotiator fell upon me as the sole English speaker of the group.

Both desk dudes at the hotel turned out to be Spanish. While the Spanish speakers negotiated, I stood there, smiled and nodded, and looked like a clueless English-speaking tourist. When we hit the pubs that night, a healthy chunk of the bartenders were, you guessed it, Spanish. 

Spaniards were waiting tables, walking down the streets, and generally just about everywhere. At one point of the trip, my Spanish travelling companion leaned close and said, “Marshall, you are the minority in this country.”

Barfing

After pints on our first night, we went to an Indian restaurant. I happened to turn my head at the wrong time and saw this:

Surprised, I looked around to see if anyone else had seen this Semi-Stealth-Sleeve-Vomit and made eye contact with a waiter. Without missing a beat, and acting nonplussed about the now pukey floor, he caught my eye and shouted, “Yeah! That just happened!”

A London Friend from the Other London

Of course, I have a friend from London, Ontario living in London, England. Like any good friend, it might have been years since we had seen each other but we still picked up where we left off and hit the pubs and pints like we’re in the Other London.