Tale of Two Cities 3-5-11

London is a city of dichotomy. The people are diverse and international, yet British pride comes standard with every pint of ale. The old grand dome of St. Paul’s keeps a watchful eye upon the streamlined Millennium Bridge that leads across the river to the Tate Modern Art Museum, which itself sits next door to a modern version of the Elizabethan era’s Globe Theater.

They are ruled by a monarch embedded in a democratic Parliamentary system. The weather, let’s face it, San Diego it is not. But the tourists flock to the shores of the Thames regardless. Even the food contradicts itself: at the pubs the flavors are simple, the food is industrious like the people, serves a purpose with no-nonsense, and a minimalist amount of flare. Yet one of the busiest sections at dinner time is Brick Lane, the Indian Food capital of anywhere outside India. No fish and chips here, but they keep the colorful curry coming and Vishnu help you if you bite the wrong pepper.

You might think by this quick description that London needs to make up its mind. Modern or traditional? Simple or spicy? Fog or, well, a little bit less fog?

If you think that, you haven’t been to London.

In Dickens’ great novel he pits Paris and London head to head. They are the book’s richest characters, revealed as the opulent France and the practical England.

But what if Dickens were alive today? London, as I saw it, blended genres into one seamless and totally unique European experience. It is not the opulent Paris, nor is it the crisp Interlaken or the flavorful Cinque Terre. It is not just the practical England.

What London is, is a steak and kidney pie: utilitarian, traditional, minerally, curious to foreigners and yet all at once wholly satisfying (try one, even just a mini-pie, whether you like it or not you’ve learned something about the city you’re exploring, the people you’re meeting).

When you visit, you’ll simultaneously think it could be any city in the world and totally different than anywhere you’ve ever been. You’ll walk through the financial area (The City), en masse with hustling businessmen undistinguishable from those on Wall Street. Then a cherry red double-decker bus will soar up from behind you – on the wrong side of the road – and suddenly you’re nowhere near New York. Covent Garden was clearly the model for Boston’s Quincy Market. But slip down into a dim cellar pub (Punch & Judy’s for my money) and you’re sitting under brick archways sipping cask-pumped ale, the smoothest beer you’ve ever had (I didn’t have one bad ale in Britain – just pick a new one every time, bloody good no matter what you pick).

Paris is distinctly Paris. Rome is Rome. London is everything and everyone to anything and anyone.

And if Dickens disagrees with me, I’d love to argue the point over a pint.