The first time you walk into the house at 35 Gower Street, you see a long narrow staircase not designed for fifty pound suitcases. Then you're ushered into the common room by your professor while he figures out what room everyone's in and which keys go to whom. Restless after twelve hours of travel, you start fiddling with the things on the bookshelf, and you try to use one magnetic eraser to catch the other magnetic eraser and it makes people laugh. Then your professor comes in with your key, you put the erasers back where you found them, and go upstairs to unpack your things.
Later you tentatively make your way back to the common room. The house is going clubbing. Well, most of it. You stay back. So do a few other people. Your professor walks in and asks, "wanna play cards?" You all say yes, but what you're thinking is, "oh god he feels bad for us because we're the three losers who didn't go to the club." But the nineties music plays, and the jokes start rolling, and a few weeks in, cards is more popular than clubbing. You look forward to it every night. People come and go but the core group stays the same. You guys have matching hats and socks now. Time's passed in a blur of bookstore cafe trips and card games, and-- in an unprecedented turn of events for you-- hardly any time in your room. Looking back, it doesn't feel like you spent a lot of time getting to know everyone, at least not on purpose. But you remember how lost you were that first day, and now there's a painting hanging on the wall done by you and the two girls you were quarantined with. And the popular guy calls you "the coolest dweeb I've ever met," and people hug you and cry and tell you they'll miss you, and you do too, and you mean it. On the last night everyone's drunk and crying and dancing and laughing and thinking about how you'll never live together like this again. When you got here, you thought the house was going to be your place to eat and sleep and watch TV, but then it became a home for this weird group of people who grew to love each other. And you hope the house will do the same for more unsuspecting students, but you selfishly want to stay. So that last night is almost like a funeral because you celebrate the death of a family you didn't mean to have. Infinite Stars.
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This food stand is normally located in King's Cross, but I ate there on Thursdays when they were in Bloomsberry Market. To be fair, I only ever ate the vegan balls, though I heard great things about the others, especially the macaroni balls. They lay their balls in a bed of beans, cabbage, and various vegetables, then top it off with a vegan tzatziki. It's a filling meal that doesn't leave you drowsy after, and if I remember correctly, in the vicinity of six pounds. The people there started recognizing me, and they gave me an extra ball on my last day and told me to come back. Five stars plus one extra for the road.
Located near London Bridge Station, this market has a wide selection of meats, cheeses, big sticks, vegan gyoza, falafel, pulled pork sandwiches, and Turkish coffee--except on Mondays. It's covered, hence the name, and in some places the train runs right over it. This is an excellent spot for lunch and coffee followed by a leisurely walk down the Thames. Five stars.
It definitely took me by surprise. I never thought I'd come to love public transportation. It's cramped, stuffy, hot in the summer, but it's awesome. All the different lines and intersecting stations mean every time you go somewhere you get to solve a little puzzle. Oyster cards make it easy to get on and off, and there's nothing better than sitting on the cushion on the wall at the end of the car and reading a book. Or just people watching. Or listening to music. Or thinking about where you're going to transfer. There's nothing like standing in the tunnels as the tube arrives with a rush of wind, cooling you off after a long night of drunk karaoke. Five stars.
Delicious Fucking Tacos. At lest the vegan plantain tacos with a side of vegan beans and a glass of water. For a moderate price, you too can eat passable tacos on the other side of the pond. Located pretty close to the house, this was a staple in my diet. It's also right next to the Waterstones so it's perfect for a quick lunch before a writing sesh. Additionally, DF Tacos' ambiance is unmatched. Just go to the bathroom at least once. It's on the little second floor balcony thingy. Five stars.
The British Museum is a nearly a million square feet of imperial robbery. Admission is free, which is the only reason I saw it. After about twenty minutes there, you’ll have seen all you need to see. The Rosetta Stone is just a rock. Everything else is so unmemorable I can’t recall any of them. If you go during the week, there’s bound to be gaggles of school children on field trips. They’re loud, obnoxious, and short so you’ll probably trip over a few. They even have the audacity to provide gift shops peddling overpriced imperialism merch. There’s a cafe presumably to keep you there longer. They beg for donations at every corner. The British Museum has a lot of returning stolen items to do. One star.
I’ve never been much of a sushi person, but Itsu has to be the best sushi I’ve ever had. I tried it one day after a class that went on far too long and dumped us in the Tate Modern well past lunch time. Itsu was right by the nearest tube station. I grabbed two Veggie Dragon Rolls of the shelf—everything’s packaged so you can easily take it to go and you don’t have to wait for them to prepare it— and a kombucha, and experienced some brilliant flavors. I ordered it to the house when I had Covid and it held up in delivery. The veggie gyoza with soy sauce is also a staple in the Itsu experience. Fairly priced and delicious, Itsu gets five stars.
“Seven story bookstore” doesn’t mean they only sell seven books. There’s seven floors of books. It’s heaven. The fifth floor has a full cafe stocked with food (including vegan food) coffee, and wine. It’s perfect for sitting, reading, and writing. Unfortunately, the beautiful view of London from the fifth floor comes at a price. The sun beats through the windows creating a very Florida-esque atmosphere. There’s nothing worse than sipping on a hot latte in the heat. It’s supposed to be cold here. Maybe they keep the heat on well into May. But it doesn’t matter because they have an enormous selection of books at great prices and I’ve given them a lot of money. Five stars.
With only a handful of cashews, you can win the love of wild animals on your study abroad. Once you find Green Park, you can locate the pigeons by following the crowds of tourists. None of them thought to bring stale bread, so they're just kind of hanging out awkwardly summoning the pigeons with clicking noises.
You just have to hold some food scraps, extend your arm, and a dozen birds will land on you to fight over them. It's magical. Too many will your hand and they'll start to fall, so they'll climb up your arm, onto your shoulder and head, and rub against your cheek. Then they realize you're out of food and leave. 5 stars. Are you traveling to escape the overly-corporatized consumer madlands that are American bookstores? Do you wish to get lost in a slightly-less-corporatized bookstore with a larger book selection and a lot less toys? Waterstones is a new and used bookstore offering coffee, tea, food, tables to work at, and check out counters on every floor, (that’s right, more than one floor). They even have student discount cards that earn 5% off every purchase, and £10 for every £100 spent.
There are certainly bookstore options with less residue from the grimy hands of investment capitalism, but if you’ve found a bookstore whose main profit stream isn’t “last minute birthday presents for your obnoxious nephew,” you’ve got a rare gem. Waterstones is a great default option whether you’re looking for a bookstore or a café. It’s sort of a more palatable UK equivalent to Barnes and Noble. It’s also very conveniently located for me. 4.6 stars. |
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