The roads in the heart of London are not straight; they are designed not to be. Going about my usual exercise of walking around the immediate neighborhood around my dormitory, I found out the hard way just how difficult it is to get acquainted with the historical neighborhood. Every road curved, beginning and ending in completely random places so that the very concept of cardinal directions became completely useless as one tries to get from point A to B.
And the physical appearances do not help. Looking down every street, both sides are packed with five-story-high stone buildings that seemed to have persevered through centuries of urban development. They remain utterly devoid of any commercial signs: no advertising, no store signage (except on the occasional shop fronts on the first floor), and no unique colors to distinguish one building from the dozens around it. All buildings harmoniously blend into two long stone rows extending down every street.
In awe at the first sight, one quickly becomes frustrated by such a physical sight. Your average old London neighborhood does not believe in the idea of “landmarks.” There are no outrageous monstrosities (the London Eye excepted) to characterize each neighborhood, and some communities do not even have major thoroughfares near them to guide travelers to them. The only things that seem to demarcate the neighborhoods are the changes in the neighborhood names on street name plates.
The average Londoner does not seem to be bothered at all by the irregularities that certainly confuse any visitor. Bland-faced, they roam through the twisted streets, not even stopping to check if they are heading in the right direction. But their quiet confidence does not seem to come from a thorough knowledge of the neighborhood. When asked about directions to a certain street, even the most knowledgeable-looking local remark how they do not know where the street is.
Indeed, the very idea of getting to places by following a series of streets is not commonly used. The street name plates are not clearly identified at street intersections, indeed only occasionally popping up on the sides of buildings as small iron plates with a creamy white background color easily blending into the stone façade behind them. Londoners do not seem to notice them, and visitors who try to pay attention to them only get more frustrated by unexpected name changes not reflected on maps.
The urban organization, or the lack of it, here in central London, is consistent with her reality as a densely packed city. The lack of viable space for further development means no frills are possible. Spaces for overhead electricity lines and “non-essential” traffic lights, not to mention billboard ads and more “obvious” street signs, are highly limited, and if occupied, detract from the uniformly beautiful row of stone buildings. With so much history, tearing down communities for rebuilding is not an option.
Amid the reality of inescapable density, businesses face limitations. Wal-Mart-style one-stop shops are impossible because of lack of space for item displays, and Japanese-style convenience stores are impossible as their model of outward advertising to draw in consumers will certainly draw the ire of old time residents. Yet, Londoners do occasionally show quite a bit of ingenuity for innovation. Specialty hole-in-the-wall stores abound, making up for less of space with comprehensiveness in one narrow category.
The result is a conglomeration of mom-and-pop shops selling different things within a single neighborhood. The collection of stores, when combined, does not lose to Wal-mart in item diversity or convenience stores in immediate accessibility. Chain store also adapted. For instance, general store Argos developed “in-store catalog shopping” to retain valuable space for item storage. Limiting the shop front to a bunch of catalog books, a cashier, and a pickup point nonetheless allow the chain to offer every durable good one would need for living in the densest of neighborhoods.
Judging a city within a little more than 24 hours after first arrival, no doubt, have its limitations. But even know, I realized that London has much more to tell me here in the mundane corner of her historical heart than she does in the usual tourist traps of the Tower, the Bridge, and even the museums. And as a resident, rather than a tourist, I have the duty to listen to all her tales and reflect on them. There are probably many more stories about the city than I will care to hear, but I will try my best to record them.
And the physical appearances do not help. Looking down every street, both sides are packed with five-story-high stone buildings that seemed to have persevered through centuries of urban development. They remain utterly devoid of any commercial signs: no advertising, no store signage (except on the occasional shop fronts on the first floor), and no unique colors to distinguish one building from the dozens around it. All buildings harmoniously blend into two long stone rows extending down every street.
In awe at the first sight, one quickly becomes frustrated by such a physical sight. Your average old London neighborhood does not believe in the idea of “landmarks.” There are no outrageous monstrosities (the London Eye excepted) to characterize each neighborhood, and some communities do not even have major thoroughfares near them to guide travelers to them. The only things that seem to demarcate the neighborhoods are the changes in the neighborhood names on street name plates.
The average Londoner does not seem to be bothered at all by the irregularities that certainly confuse any visitor. Bland-faced, they roam through the twisted streets, not even stopping to check if they are heading in the right direction. But their quiet confidence does not seem to come from a thorough knowledge of the neighborhood. When asked about directions to a certain street, even the most knowledgeable-looking local remark how they do not know where the street is.
Indeed, the very idea of getting to places by following a series of streets is not commonly used. The street name plates are not clearly identified at street intersections, indeed only occasionally popping up on the sides of buildings as small iron plates with a creamy white background color easily blending into the stone façade behind them. Londoners do not seem to notice them, and visitors who try to pay attention to them only get more frustrated by unexpected name changes not reflected on maps.
The urban organization, or the lack of it, here in central London, is consistent with her reality as a densely packed city. The lack of viable space for further development means no frills are possible. Spaces for overhead electricity lines and “non-essential” traffic lights, not to mention billboard ads and more “obvious” street signs, are highly limited, and if occupied, detract from the uniformly beautiful row of stone buildings. With so much history, tearing down communities for rebuilding is not an option.
Amid the reality of inescapable density, businesses face limitations. Wal-Mart-style one-stop shops are impossible because of lack of space for item displays, and Japanese-style convenience stores are impossible as their model of outward advertising to draw in consumers will certainly draw the ire of old time residents. Yet, Londoners do occasionally show quite a bit of ingenuity for innovation. Specialty hole-in-the-wall stores abound, making up for less of space with comprehensiveness in one narrow category.
The result is a conglomeration of mom-and-pop shops selling different things within a single neighborhood. The collection of stores, when combined, does not lose to Wal-mart in item diversity or convenience stores in immediate accessibility. Chain store also adapted. For instance, general store Argos developed “in-store catalog shopping” to retain valuable space for item storage. Limiting the shop front to a bunch of catalog books, a cashier, and a pickup point nonetheless allow the chain to offer every durable good one would need for living in the densest of neighborhoods.
Judging a city within a little more than 24 hours after first arrival, no doubt, have its limitations. But even know, I realized that London has much more to tell me here in the mundane corner of her historical heart than she does in the usual tourist traps of the Tower, the Bridge, and even the museums. And as a resident, rather than a tourist, I have the duty to listen to all her tales and reflect on them. There are probably many more stories about the city than I will care to hear, but I will try my best to record them.
Buy camera and take photos, pliiiz!
ReplyDeletephotos are being taken and will be posted on Facebook!
ReplyDelete