The busy murmur of people conversing, the hurried footsteps of pedestrians crossing the road — narrowly avoiding manic cyclists who have never been introduced to the concept of a break. The low hum of the tube running underneath your feet, with the occasional staccato of high-pitched honks as frustrated drivers try to navigate the streets of London. Allow me to introduce you to this, the orchestra that will serenade every moment you spend on the streets of London: the soundtrack of your university years.
Before you close your not-yet-unpacked army of suitcases and book the first flight back home, allow me to elaborate. While this ensemble of unrelenting noise may seem enough to make one lose their mind in a matter of hours, you will undoubtedly make peace with it. I dare say, you will come to love it.
As someone who grew up abroad, I have always idolised this city. The international atmosphere, the endless activities: one of the few places in the world where tradition and modernity meet to create an endless tapestry of possibilities. Yet, to my surprise, when I arrived here I heard many opinions to the contrary. “It’s too expensive!” They say. “It’s too crowded!” They say. “Everybody is so rude!” They say. I do not, for a second, deny the constant outlandish pint prices, the often claustrophobic conditions on the tube, or even the occasional sharp stranger. These are all, unfortunately, facts of life in a city with over ten million people. However, what I do contest is the opinion that this is all there is to London, to university life at UCL.
One recurring moment in time that truly encapsulates the wonders of London to me is the second I step out of London Liverpool Street station. Exhausted and overstimulated, after flying into Stansted Airport, I — without fail — pull my heavy suitcase onto the pavement and admire. I admire the 150 year old mammoth building that stands behind me, with its twin clock towers that have seen more than any one human ever has. I admire the seemingly unimpressive 19th century structures before me and imagine what boutique could have been where a Starbucks now stands. Finally, I look up into the distance and admire the glass sky scarpers artificially glowing in the distance, reflecting the modern comforts that the people running that small shop could never have imagined. It is this, London’s adamant preservation of what was, while embracing what is, that millions of people around the world come to see on a daily basis. From the street signs that directed travelers on horseback to the Shakespearian buildings that once housed poets, writers and thinkers who first inscribed the words that now sit on your lecture slides: this city is bursting at the seams with stories of what once was, and what could be.
This is London: the city of dichotomies, and you don’t have to venture far from UCL to see it. The small squares of serene greenery all around our campus while one of London’s busiest streets is just a few minutes away. The beautifully carved artistic sculptures that guard stressed students typing away on their macbooks in the Main Library. I implore you to embrace this dichotomy, however confusing it may be at first. Walk down Gower Street and admire the 100 year-old medical building where WWI doctors once trained, while sipping your Pret coffee on your way to class. Sit in Russell Square Garden, appreciating the fresh air, before heading onto TCR to have a pint with your friends. Treat yourself to a ten pound bagel after visiting one of the endless number of free exhibitions all around the city.
Even if, right now, you cannot see the beauty in this city, I promise you one thing. One day you will be walking to Uni and suddenly realize: this unrelenting orchestra that was oh-so-intimidating at first, is now a welcome tune that sings you into each day. Strangers’ murmurs are now a comforting podcast as you drag yourself to your 9am lecture. The low hum of the tube now reminds you that this city spans through never ending streets hiding new experiences for you to discover. The unexpected honks no longer startle you, and you find a little sympathy in your heart for the frustrated drivers just trying to get to work on time.
As for the cyclists: I’m afraid they are destined to remain the bane of every Londoner’s existence.
This article appeared in CG93
