Letters to Lulu

http://thisisnotmrsm.tumblr.com/

Well, let’s see what happens. I’m still so over the moon about our -humble-cozy london winter wedding followed by lavish summer fête in KL- agenda. Still so.. topsy-turvy tummy.

Reading saves lives.

It’d been the best christmas ever.

London.

Have you ever noticed how it smells? Its unlike any city I’ve been to (not to say I’m a well-travelled man, but I’ve been to enough places to know what I’m talking about). London lives under a blanket of smog, and the air is a mixture of eveything living in it. I noticed it the first time I came here. It was April 2000, and I travelled from Antwerp to London for an interview which would eventually lead to a job. I remember walking out of the Eurostar terminal at Waterloo station and the first thing that hit me was the smell: the smell of warm rubber, stale air from the underground network rising up through vents from the bowels of the city, exhaust fumes, cigarette smoke - all mixed into one. I’m probably forgetting some other fine elements, but I’m sure you get the idea. London smells. London was alien to me. Everything moved at least twice as fast than where I come from, and everything looks grey, miserable and dirty. And another thing I noticed: Its not just the smell - its the dirt. Not even dirt. Grime. London has risen out of a tar pit, and the black, dried up remnants cling to the buildings.

So I wandered around. I zig-zagged through little streets, big streets, cobbled alleyways, busy streets and squares becoming overwhelmed by two conflicting feelings at once - the excitement of being in London and possibly live/work here; and the observation that its a very cold and grey place to be.

London was almost the complete antithesis of Antwerp, and, after finally moving here in the summer that year I missed my Heimat. I missed late lazy nights with my friends, quiet streets, the food… I felt eerily detached from life. I came to London to work, not to live. And so, for a couple of years I’d see London as a means to an end. When I wrote down my location, I’d write “97% London/UK, 3% Antwerp/BE” - always indicating my roots; in some way - I think - to create a barrier between me and the place. Here, I’d work. If I wanted to relax, I’d go back to Antwerp - to live. Every time I would go back to work, I did so with a forlorn smile. BACK TO WORK, GOODBYE LIFE. But I wanted to stay… just a bit longer.

And then something very strange happened. When I arrived back in London I felt at ease with myself. I returned home. I returned to work. My work had defined me.

I’ve lived here a little over 6 years now. It all started as a “2 year business plan”: Get in / learn / establish yourself / get out. But somewhere along the line 2 years became 3, 3 became 4 and so on… and I fell in love with the city: the hectic life, the diversity, the people, the food, the shops, the noise, the sirens, the shouting, the cafes, the restaurants, and those old blackened buildings.

In November, I will be together with my sweeti for 2 years. I want to give her everything.
I do my best not to work too much.

I live here now.

And every time I come back I take a deep breath and suck in all the smell. Aah London.

Herr Doktor
London/UK