48 hour last day in London: including one hour in the life of an enchanted princess.

Probably my favourite statue encountered: Churchill is just plain cool.

Making most of my last day in London, I woke up early to visit the UK Parliament and sit in the House of Commons Gallery. However, visitors were not allowed in until 14:30. So, from Westminster, I decided to tube it to the Kensington Gardens where I could finally see the Serpentine Gallery, which turned out to be quite small and disappointing; and the nearby Kensington Palace's Enchanted Palace exhibition; which was impressive and lived up to expectations.

The palace has been decked out in an 'Alice in Wonderland'-style fashion and interior design exhibition and themed walk-through, displaying both the palace itself and works of art by fashion designers and artists such as Vivianne Westwood. There were speakers with mysterious but inviting whispers, elaborate decorations, shadows and silhouettes, the works. And for those anal people who must see every part of an exhibition, the walk-through was intelligently numbered and subtly leads the visitor in the right direction. No photography is allowed but that is all part of the appeal.














As I wrote in the ubiquitious Guestbook found at these sort of events: "Excellent. It turned me into a girl/princess for an hour."

I then tubed it back east across town to Aldgate, where I met Daniel for lunch.


For the purpose of trying new things, (and not solely for the reason of blogging about it), I tried 'jellied eel' from a street stall claiming 'worldwide fame'. While I have tried many things in life, this was a bit too weird for me. There was the smell of rubbish/rotting fish emanating from the street as I slurped down an incongruous cold mixture of boiled eel slices and clear white jelly. Taking my cue from the locals, I added vinegar and pepper, which did make the dish slightly more palatable.



We took a long-winded but informative route through London's CBD or, as Daniel prefers to call it, the 'Square Mile' or financial district. There was the shiny oyster-green 'gherkin' building, and other tall skyscrapers reminiscent of Sydney and other bustling metropolises.


We eventually arrived at the legendary Brick Lane, made famous in a Jamie Oliver episode and which I remembered as a street in London where they have colourful immigrants, curry and haircut parlours. Surprisingly, it was located in the middle of the city, right next to the financial district whereas I thought it would have been far out in the suburbs. At the brick-walled corner, as the multicoloured 'South-east Asian backpacker style' shops came into view, the smell of curry came into the air. Nearby, I had a Caribbean rice dish and Shandy (which reminds me of non-alcoholic Israeli beer which I once tried in Sydney's eastern suburbs) for lunch at Spitalfield markets, which was much too sterile, clean, sheltered and devoid of people to compete with either Borough or Portobello Rd.





Leaving Daniel, I traversed back to Westminster where I was able, after a very thorough security check process performed by a ratio of at least 10 security guards to 1 visitor, to enter Westminster Hall and the House of Commons, Britain's legislative body. To counter the femininity of the morning, I was to enter the very male-dominated world of parliament. Sitting in the public gallery overlooking the famous green chamber, I left after not being able to find a reason why listening to a parliamentary debate about 'the UK's digital economy' would be valuable to me.



From there, I left to live the consumer society dream at Oxford Circus and to fulfull brotherly purchasing duties.

That night, we had a convivial 'gezellig' reunion at the Spice of Life, an English pub in the West End with a group of ISHCMC people who all happened to be in London at the time. We stayed out until the early morning, by which it was time for me to catch the bus home, pack, then catch the bus to Liverpool St Station to take the train to Harwich International port to take the ferry back to Holland.

Something Ridhwan said that struck me was that here in London, we are all in limbo. The international foreign student lives a temporary life, out of a suitcase, with the constant underlying knowledge that there is an expiration date. I realise then and afterwards that, at some point, no matter how fun, exciting and stimulating this life can be, there is in everyone a universal yearning for a sense of home.