#37 Curzon Street

I finally decided to go scouting for my parent’s old London flat, so after consulting my pocket map of the Underground, I made several connections and emerged from the Green Park Tube station. When you’re traveling the Tube, you have no sense of direction and no proper understanding of how the stations are positioned from one another – they’re just straight lines on the map, and where these stations may be placed in the actual physical outlay of the city remains a mystery. I felt pretty stupid when I realized that Green Park station sits on the perimeter of Hyde Park not far from my dorm room. I could have walked a pleasant 15 minutes through the park to Curzon Street. Oh well, London only reveals itself piece by piece. I have to say that my parent’s old neighborhood is really posh… leaded glass and bay windows awash in a sea of granite and limestone. The whole area surrounding Curzon Street is populated by swank apartments and numerous embassies (the Japanese Embassy was particularly spectacular). I never realized how much Mom and Dad gave up to start a family in Tomball. I guess they could’ve had kids while living in London, but most of the children you see in central London (and there are very few) look sickly and exceedingly fragile. In hindsight I’m really grateful for all the fields and woods of RoseWood Hill that allowed for exploration, tree fort development, and the massive military-industrial complex that supported our pinecone wars. As with all my navigational efforts, I wasn’t able to find their flat until I finally gave up and decided to consult a map. I rested for a moment underneath a building’s awning, broke out the map, and thirty seconds later realized I was standing beneath #37 Curzon Street (photo above). I wasn’t able to see any of the flats, since all the occupants were out, but the nice doorman (how can there be a uniformed doorman for just 4 flats?!) told me a little about the building and gave me promotional literature given to potential residents. I’ll be sure to bring it home for my mom.



Me mum also asked me to check out the nearby Sheppherd’s Market; a sort of outdoor mall where cafés, pubs, and vegetable carts crowd a series of narrow alleys (above photo). It was an eclectic place, and I’m sure that if I lived closer and had more money, I’d probably frequent some of these places. Instead, on my way back to Paddington, I stopped by Starbucks to savor a skinny cappuccino. In the States I almost never purchase anything at Starbucks, since I don’t understand how any drink could warrant a price tag of $3. However, in London Starbucks maintains relative price parity and a £1.79 cup of java seems like a steal, especially when compared to anything else (a single smallish load of laundry costs me £3.20 or $5.92!). Sorry for the constant price comparisons. I guess I’m just still in shock at the cost of living here. I'll post again soon. Grace & Peace.