London!

Google Streetview has expanded to a number of UK cities, including London.

*sigh*

This makes me literally feel an ache to be in London again.

I think that, like many things, you Get It, or you don't. Either you see pictures like that and just yearn to be there in them, or it's, "Eh, pretty nice photos."

I love living in the mountains, and despite not wanting to live there Philly will always hold a spot in my heart...but there's no place in the world that can compete with London. I can't even describe why, and I think that's fairly common. I believe Peter Ackroyd tried in this book, and it took him some 800 pages (a fantastic book, by the way - I hugely recommend it). No matter how many times people try, no matter how many words are spoken or pages written, London will just remain something too big, too vibrant, and too alive to truly describe.

Guess where I wish I was?

I'm reading London: A Biography by Peter Ackroyd (and I highly recommend it).  In the very beginning there is a chronology.  

It spans from 54 BC to 2000 AD.  The first entry, the 54 AD entry?  It is later explained that there's already a significant settlement where London now is.  

If I had to pick a city that simply is, a place that exists outside of time and human limitation, it's London.  I remember walking through the streets of London and it's walking through history.  Here's a building that was rebuilt after being demolished in WWII, in WWI.  Here's a church that was first built a thousand years ago.  Here's where Chaucer lived.  Here's where Shakespeare's plays were performed.  Here's where kings were crowned and then beheaded, where prisoners were kept for saying no to that king.  Over there was where the fire that destroyed most of the city started.  London scoffs in the face of chronological boundaries.  

The great thing about it, I think, the reason why I love it so much and felt so comfortable there, was I was just one of literally countless people in my situation there.  People have fled to New York City - to find fame and fortune, to just find a living, to find themselves, to find a lover, to find something they don't even know what - for hundreds of years.  People have fled to London for thousands.  London has seen it, done it, and absorbed a tiny part of it, over and over and over again, for longer than anyone can really grasp.

I dreamt a dream...

Last night I had - for once - a nice, not-insanely-weird dream that I remembered. Well, it was a little weird, but not 'angry Plato turns into a snail' weird.

I was in London, and I was in a supermarket. I bought some of the few things I needed - bread, eggs, pasta - and walked home. Then I went back out, and sat in a little cafe or coffee shop along a busy road, and watched London go by.

Then my alarm clock went off and I got up and went to math class. It was cold and there was still snow on the ground.

Guess which I'd rather, reality or that dream? (Hint: I'm not a citizen of the place that feels like home.)

The cutest police officer I've ever seen

The British Transportation Police at King's Cross have adopted a cat in order to deal with the mouse problem.

(the cat's the cute one, obviously).

Another reason to love London

The London Transport Museum's free online archive of their historical posters, artwork and photos, dating back to the start of public transport in London.

Some are merely interesting, like this one: (reasons to love modern society: free bus schedules)

Then we get some gems like this:

My God, I'm in love with a 1930's poster artist.

It goes 'ding' when there's stuff

Despite not being particularly thrilled with Mr. Gordon Brown, I'm feeling rather chummy towards the Brits right now. Not that I often feel particularly antagonistic towards them, what with the wanting to be British myself and all, but anyway.

For one - I've been watching some Doctor Who recently. It's one of those shows that's hit-or-miss. Sometimes it's just unintentionally silly, sometimes it's pretty crap. Then every once in a while there's an episode that, upon first viewing, is completely outstanding. I'm referring to the relatively recent episode Blink, which if nothing else, had the creepiest damn low-budget monsters I have ever seen. Spoilers, in case anyone's a Who fan but hasn't seen it yet: Stone angels that are only stone when you're looking at them. They send you into the past to live our your life ("the only psychopaths who kill you nicely"), and feed off the life you would have otherwise had (they "let you live to death"). Psychologically, this is absolutely brilliant, because you see a scary monster and what do you want to do? Hide. Turn around and run away. Stop looking at it. But in this case, you can't, and I find that horrifyingly genius.


Anyway, fictional monsters aside, the Brits today also prevented themselves from getting blown up again. Not only that, but it looks like they've done so in a remarkably calm and stereotypically British fashion. All I have to say on that is (if I may): "Well done, chaps".

Dinner and a show, London Style

So did you hear the one about the Polish guy who walked into a restaurant and cut his penis off?

....

Yeah, there's actually no punchline. And people wonder why I like big cities...

The painful joy of procrastination and the Tube.

I love my Wikipedia. London Underground Trivia, anyone?

The shortest distance between two stations is 250 metres (0.16 miles), between Leicester Square and Covent Garden on the Piccadilly line. Some say that with all the time spent going up and down the escalators, it's faster to walk between the two. Travel between these stations paid for by a cash ticket costs £25 per mile (£4 ticket) in 2007.

Only two people are known to have had their coffins transported on the Underground: William Gladstone and Dr Barnardo.

A fragrance called "Madeleine" was introduced at St James's Park, Euston and Piccadilly Circus stations on 23 March 2001, in an effort to make the Underground smell better. It was discontinued the next day as it was making people feel sick.

St John's Wood is the only station which contains none of the letters of the word 'mackerel' (as the word Saint is not spelt out). Pimlico is the only station which contains none of the letters of the word 'badger', at least until the proposed 2010 opening of Hoxton, which will then be the only station containing none of the letters of either word. Wapping is the only station with no letters in common with 'lobster'. And Redbridge is the only station without 'Walnut'!

The Jubilee Line is the only line that intersects all others. The District Line meets all other lines except the Metropolitan Line—which it misses by approximately 20 m at Aldgate.

The return journey from King's Cross St Pancras and Euston and back again can be made travelling only in nominally "northbound" trains. The northbound Northern Line runs from King's Cross to Euston and the northbound Victoria Line runs from Euston to King's Cross. It is also possible to make the same round trip on "southbound" trains only.

Note: Oh god the number of times I found myself on the wrong Northern Line. *shakes fist*

Breaking news from London:

Kensington is still by and large populated by people with far too much time and far too much money. They'd much rather get rid of the first to save the latter than suck it up and either stop driving their Masaratis around or just pay a couple extra quid per day.

Soft math...

According to the London Metropolitan Police, there were 168 murders in all the boroughs of London in the fiscal year of 2005-6.

According to the Philadelphia Police Department, there were 377 murders in the city of Philadelphia in 2005.

You may note that 277 is approximately 2.24 times greater than 168.

The population of Philadelphia in 2005 was about 1,463,281. The population of London in 2005 was about 7.5 million.

7.5 million is about 5.12 times greater than 1,463,281.

This math does not add up.

British vs American newspapers

Reasons why British papers are better:

1. Free stuff in the papers. Most of it posing as educational, but if you want to plunk a few coins down on a paper, you're likely to get some manner of DVD or magazine or poster or wallchart or god-knows-what-else.
   
2. Comedy answer: The Sun.
   
3. Comedy answer: Page 3 girls. Serious implication of comedy answer: The idea that nudity is not an abomination.

Reasons why American papers are better:

1. The New York Times, Washington Post, Philadelphia Inquirer, and LA Times.
2. Less celebrity crap, more news.
3. Broadsheet format is the norm, and I personally prefer that.
   

Automotive culture

Americans drive a lot.

Granted, if I were in a proper city - Philadelphia, New York, LA - there'd be fewer personal cars on the road. More cabs and buses.

But suburban New Jersey is downright absurd in how you need a car.

I live less than half a mile from the Cherry Hill Mall. To get there from my house, you walk down my driveway, go a few meters to the corner and turn left, walk to the next intersection, turn right, walk two blocks, cross a four-lane road, and you're in the mall parking lot.

There's no safe way for a pedestrian to get into the parking lot, though. Your best bet is to bear away from the mall's entrance, go down the grassy median between parking lot and road, and cut across the quarter-mile of parking lot.

There's a Target across the road from the mall. The best way to get there? Walk up to the mall, down the road (including a dash across the on/off ramps to a local highway), across the movie theater parking lot, cross the drainage ditch where there's no fence, and come around from the back. A sidewalk? No, why would there be one of those?

In the past I grumbled about it, especially in the days before I got a license, but hey, it's convenient, right? Target's nice, because you can get pretty much whatever you may need in one shop. Ditto for the big enclosed malls.

But I think I've come to realize that there was a flaw in my thinking, and that is: You don't need that stuff. I lived for nearly a year quite happily with as much clothing as would fit in my backpack: a few pairs of jeans and black slacks, a couple button-down shirts, some t-shirts. Big flashy wardrobe? Not at all. Sufficient, and perhaps even easier? Absolutely. We're smothered with choice here, and it's...depressing.