Back into London.
I met Tom at Vibe, that very nice small restaurant near the Barrington, and after breakfast (another traditional British breakfast – what else?), we headed to the flat, and after a little discussion Hilary, Tom, and I headed back into town. We decided to hit the East End, but that may have been a bit of a mistake. The East End is filled with London history, but it’s not necessarily obvious from the outside, and that may not be the best area to visit for a first time visitor, other than selected areas – like Liverpool Street and Brick Lane, where we started out our visit.
I think the East End may be best for guided street walks and the discovery of nuances about London, its developments, its buildings, and its secrets, but not necessarily for its obvious sights. For Hilary and I especially, with out own strong East End roots, it’s a fascinating part of London, with lots to see, but it didn’t take long for me, and I think Hil as well, to think maybe this wasn’t for Tom. That’s not completely true, as we first visited Spitalfields Market after arriving at Liverpool Street station, and then went on to the very vibrant Brick Lane, which is worth visiting and marks a real and significant shift, and the gentrification, at least in part, of the East End.
Brick Lane and the surrounding area of Whitechapel and Spitalfields, and the large Tower Hamlets, was at one time the heart of the Jewish east end, between the 1880s to the mid-1950s, beginning with the “Great Migration” to Britain of around 150,000 Jewish refugees fleeing Russian and Eastern European pogroms, with around 70 percent settling into the Spitalfields and Whitechapel areas, until the diaspora from the East End into North London, in the 50s, after the war. Prior to that, the area was home to the Huguenots, from around 1685s to the 1700s, who were French Protestant refugees fleeing religious persecution, and later Irish immigrants in the 1800s. After the Jewish move to North and other parts of London in the 1950s and 60s, a strong Bangladeshi community, as well as as other ethnic groups, developed in the East End in the 1960s and into the 1980s, and remains there today, as well as smaller but strong Afro-Caribbean and Middle Eastern communities. The area today, and perhaps especially Brick Lane, is well known for its mosques, multicultural organizations, and its many Bangladeshi, as well as other multicultural, restaurants. It has become a vibrant, active, and interesting scene, very much worth a visit. It is an important part of a still developing London, in which the drab and uninteresting post-war East End has changed its nature, with much development in the area, and modernization.
My memories of the East End, from our many and often weekly or bi-weekly visits in the 1950s and 60s to our paternal grandmother, of a post-war ravaged, bare, and uninteresting, old-fashioned East End has been replaced by a young and, dare I say it, swinging and hip young and developing area, filled with music, noise, shops, restaurants, events, and life.
There are still vertiges of Jewish life along Brick Lane, the former home to the Truman Brewery, including the last of the old 24 hour a day beigel bakeries, a traditional Jewish roll, spelled that way in London prior to its change in name, spelling, and pronunciations to bagel. The store itself, old-time, is nevertheless pretty hip and trendy, with lines of people, young and old, probably very few who are Jewish, waiting to grab a beigel, platzel, challa (chollo), or other sandwich. This afternoon, I was one of them.
As we reached the end of Brick Lane, me eating my Salt beef (Corn beef) beigel, we wondered where to now, as it was starting to dawn on me that this may not be the most interesting part of London for Tom to visit, absent the significant and rich (no pun) history behind the development of the East End, and its personal history for Hilary and me. Tom’s sister had mentioned Shoreditch to Tom as a place to visit, which was just down the road a bit from where we were, and part of the East End, but I wonder what it was she meant or whether she was thinking of the vibrant Brick Lane area as there really was little of interest along Shoreditch High Street as we walked along it, just a mile or less away from Brick Lane, although there certainly certainly signs of change and revitalization. So, we decided let’s get out of the East End.
The only problem was, to where. There are so many parts to London and so many areas of interest, but we were already into the early afternoon and wanted to get back to Barnet with time to both relax and get ready for our overnight trip to Paris, leaving early tomorrow morning. So, we were stuck for a bit, trying to figure out where we might go. There are so many nice areas of London I’d like Tom to see, but at this point, it was pretty clear that we needed to get out of the East End. We decided to visit Regent’s Park, traveling by bus.
The bus journey was pretty nice, and we found ourselves in Regent’s Park in the by now mid-late afternoon. The park is in better shape than Hyde Park, but the beautiful roses in the Rose Gardens are less vibrant but they should be, with signs of wilting from the heat and lack of water, and although the grass was fuller than that at Hyde Park, it was nevertheless pretty sparse and far, far less green than it should be. I’ve actually never seen the parks in this state. These parks are usually green and verdant, with thick and lush lawns, fields, plants, and vegetation. I was here two years ago, and the parks looked just that way… but not now. It’s the heat, of course, and I guess the way the park is managed, in balancing watering and park care against water conservation and allowing foot traffic over the grass.
Still, The park still looked lovely, and especially in the more shaded areas and near water, with some lovely views.
Despite the heat and the wilting vegetation, We enjoyed walking the park, and grabbed something to eat near the boating pond. That pond has certainly changed since my days, way back when, when it was a boating pond filled with rowboats. I used to come here pretty regularly as a teenager, sometimes with friends, a couple of times with mum, and on my own, when I rowed the pond. Today, it is filled with paddle boats, with not a rowboat in sight. The times they are a changin’.
We spent some time walking in and around the park, and then headed home by tube. Needing to get ready for tomorrow’s trip to Paris, with an early start, Tom stopped off at the Barrington and Hil and I walked back to her flat. It was a nice day, with some good spots, but, still, it seemed we could’ve done better for Tom today.
One of those good spots, aside from Brick Lane and Regent’s Park, was a very friendly guy on the bus who talked readily and freely with everyone around him, it seemed. Tom got an earful of a very guttural and poorly articulated London accent, in which the guy spoke so fast, swallowing half his words and stringing the rest of them together into a single and unpunctuated stream of sound, so that even I could understand only half of what he was saying, exchanging Fs for Ths, as in “frew” and “free,” instead of “through” and “three,” for instance, although we were both able to pick up the many “fucks” and “wankers” in his rapid speech. He was a trip. I’m glad Tom got to experience that side of English as spoken in London. Plus, we learned his life story. Among other things, he has free kids (three).
Claudio wanted to take us out for a fish and chips meal at his and Hilary’s favorite local chip shop, which is almost immediately opposite the Barrington, and we met there around 8:30. This was Tom’s first experience of actual chip shop fish and chips, and we enjoyed the meal, and it is a nice restaurant. But… and don’t tell this to Claudio or Hilary. and maybe not even Tom, I’d say their fish and chips, and especially their chips, are really just “okay,” and not a place (or should I say plaice, as long as we’re talking fish) I’d get my chips from. Tasty, but just okay.
Tom headed back to the Barrington, and Hilary, Claudio, and I went back to their apartment, where I got myself ready for two days and one overnight in Paris, packing just the barest necessities into my small day backpack. I went I bed later than I wanted, but still early the me, and set the alarm for 5 am. Good night!