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Dece,ber, 2004—Tim Rhomberg
There
and Back Again
The
first time I visited Piccadilly Circus and its’
surrounding areas (Soho, Covent Garden, Leicester Square),
it was early September and the sun was shining down,
heating the chilly streets. Exiting the Underground
while tugging at my sweater, unable to decide whether
I was hot or cold, I was immediately assaulted by a
giant glowing billboard – all neon and full of
frantically dancing golden arches. It seemed to me that
day that Ronald McDonald must own Piccadilly Circus.
Revisiting
the site in late November, the difference now is that
a sweater, a hoodie, thick coat, mittens and hat are
needed to combat the weather; and that terribly ugly
sign now boasts a double-decker bus load of Coke bottles,
roaring around computer animated streets. The sight
is just as unbearable, though it is balanced finely
by a wonderful array of Christmas lights that move to
the left down Shaftesbury Avenue. I follow them for
sometime before realizing they are just another elaborate
advertisement – this one for the newest Disney
film. Disgusted, I turn around, glance towards the statue
of Eros, and walk onward to Soho.
I
should mention here that there is one more major difference
in this visit than previous ones – it’s now
just past 7 A.M. and I’ve been awake for nearly
30 hours. Restless and unable to sleep, I was inspired
to visit possibly my favorite area in London, to see
what it’s like as people bustle about on their
ways to work and if the buildings look any different
in early morning light. So far, the experiment is doing
nothing to relax my brain. Besides a bluish hue making
them appear ghostly and underwater (or was that my tired
eyes?) I walk among familiar territory.
It’s
amazing how confusing these streets were during my first
encounter, seemingly unconnected and random. Now, I
move down Shaftesbury with a predetermined route. I
take a left in order to stroll about Soho. The area
is an entirely different beast in the morning. Dark
men in undershirts spray the empty front walks with
green hoses. I cringe at the thought of what they might
be rinsing off the cement and decide it might be safer
to walk in the middle of the street.
Having
gotten an entirely new view of Soho, I walk next towards
Leicester Square through Chinatown. The tall Chinese
lanterns are dark and it feels strange not to be hounded
by the restaurants’ owners – who commonly
stand on their stoop insisting you are hungry for dinner.
The peacefulness of the morning is welcome, as I don’t
have to dodge the afore-mentioned stoop-dwellers, or
those pesky individuals handing out incredibly lengthy
menus (which, as a rule, are then dropped carelessly
less than 10 feet away).
Waltzing
easily out of Chinatown, Leicester Square comes into
view. I do this by way of Lisle Street, where the Prince
Charles Cinema is located. This is my favorite film
theatre in London – where I have now seen 2 wonderful
films, each for less than 3 pounds. The price is especially
wonderful considering that just a block away, in the
heart of Leicester Square where 4 gaudy commercial movie
theatres sit, the lowest price runs around £7.50.
I walk around the square, moving from busts of Sir Isaac
Newton to William Hogarth to Joshua Reynolds (who all
lived in the area in the 1800s), and then to statues
of Charlie Chaplin and finally of William Shakespeare
at its center. The statue is a copy of one that takes
residence in Westminster, but this replica is still
quite calming. I sit for a while on the Square’s
park benches and watch birds peck around crumbs left
over from the previous night. Leicester Square is surrounded
by attractions – from the £1 pizza places
to the clubs (the Hippodrome, Equinox, and Maximus)
that draw in huge crowds once the sun goes down. The
only people here now are determined only to get to work
– holding their briefcases tight as they half-jog
to some unknown office building. I give another reverential
nod to Chaplin and Shakespeare, and then head towards
the outskirts of Covent Garden.
My
goal this morning is not only to complete an assignment,
but also to absorb the area to the point that which,
upon arriving home in St. Louis, I can refer to street
names and locations of theatres by heart. I want a piece
of London for my own, and I believe strolling the streets
early morning in any city is a good start for such a
task. Also, I am attempting to revisit a theatre I’ve
been to once before – the New Ambassador’s
Theatre.
I
visited the theatre early in the semester, but with
a group. I remember thinking then how confusing the
entire area was – and (after attaining tickets
for a Friday night show) once split from the group how
utterly lost I got, rambling aimlessly until happening
upon an Underground entrance. Today, though, I find
the theatre easily and map it mentally. I will return
later tonight and see their current production of Sweeney
Todd, so I want to be sure that I know all surrounding
avenues and lanes. Feeling satisfied with my knowledge
of the area, I catch the tube at Leicester Square and
head home for a deep sleep.
Later
in the day, I wake up and head back to the TKTS Counter
back in Leicester Square. The ticket is much cheaper
than I expected, and I get a prime seat in the center
balcony. I head to the theatre and wait outside before
the doors open. Across from it stands one of London’s
most famous restaurants – The Ivy. I’m only
really familiar with it because just weeks earlier I
saw a photo in the tabloids of Noel Gallagher leaving
the place with his girlfriend. There’s a paparazzi
standing across the street tonight, laying in wait,
and I’m half tempted to ask him who he’s waiting
for – but am distracted when a cyclist nearly runs
me over. I do most of my journeying with headphones
on, so the bicycle’s tinny bell fails to grab my
attention before I turn to see his wheels squeal to
stop just inches in front of me. I apologize loudly
(the headphones causing more trouble) and step back
onto the curb. The doors finally open, and I enjoy a
quality production that recalls the previous one I’d
seen there: The Translucent Frogs of Quuup. Both shows
are musicals, with a dark sense of humour and a cast
that plays their own instruments. Once
again, the New Ambassador’s has not let me down
and I leave feeling quite satisfactory with the day’s
events.
These
streets, crowded with theatres and cafés and
bookstores, seem so easy to navigate now that, when
approached by a tourist just minutes later (ugh! Tourists!
The worst plague known to man…), I am able to confidently
give directions – without even glancing at their
crinkled map. I point towards Oxford Street as if it
were so obvious these people should be branded with
the word ‘clueless’ on their foreheads. I
soon dropped my haughty finger when a British gentleman
in a smart suit approached and lead the foreigners in
the opposite (i.e. the correct) direction. I crept away
sheepishly, rounded a corner, and ran for the nearest
tube station with a program covering my face. This section
of London – the sights and sounds and people –
was mine all right, but I decided to leave the streets
to the real locals.
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