27 de novembre 2016

London, for the book

The emotional travel guide sets off
I have made a brief return to London after a few years, a city so big, that I experience differently every time.
Last time before my recent visit was very long ago. Since I stopped wearing a watch I have developed a good sense of time, but I am still terrible at remembering dates or counting years back.
So last time I was in Londa, I remember we were visiting a friend. I was with my other half, so it must have been ages ago, I don't know how long we stayed, where we slept or what we did every day. I only remember one day we went to a patio and ate  eggs and drank instant coffee. Another day I let the guys do their pub crawl and I spent the day in the Tate. I there discovered the art of Sarah Lucas and I have been a fan until now http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artists/sarah-lucas-2643.
I left the museum sparkly-eyed and sorrounded of a magic invisible veil, joined the guys on their pub crawl and fell asleep on a bench. The following day I bought some ingredients to make Indian food. These are the loose memories I recollect.
London is not my favourite city. This is a euphemism to say I rather dislike it. I don't like its size, it's weather, its greyness or its boring buildings.
This last time I was in London it was to pay a deserved visit to a soul friend, so the city itself wasn't the purpose of the visit, let alone the highlight. I just like to show my love by sharing the best gift I have: my time. And we found moments to spend quality time together, which is what matters in the end. Time never goes back.

First time I was in London I was fourteen. Now that The Cure have left Amsterdam and they are about to play in their country of origin, it is a good occasion to review my love for their music from a very young age.
I went to London looking for Robert Smith's house, although in the end I just went madly up and down Oxford Street due to my sense of orientation. While my other teenage friends wanted to get Doc Marteen's  or bomber jackets, I was looking for music and a product to straighten my hair.
... But I got lost in Greenpeace first, I found a Greenpeace store and learned for the first time about climate change and climate threats (preserving the planet resonated so much in me and my compassionate approach to nature that I turned vegetarian a year later)

... And then I got lost in music. There were postcards and LPs of Prince everywhere.
He is dead now, and this last visit OCT 2016, I found this in Portobello:

I have a whole vinyl collection of Prince, back in Barcelona. When I first saw this picture age 14 I was recently over my love affair with Joey Tempest and I was going through a musical crisis, I was letting a friend I made in England educate me into The Cure beyond Lullaby, which I found hypnotic, but before that I couldn't quite identify with any of the music that was in trend.
I asked my parents to record for me Nr1, the music program that was going on in the late 80s, and, aside Guesh Patty, Rod Steward and David Bowie, everything else seemed quite >meh<.
Age 14, climate  change, save the whales and BOOM! --> THE FREAKING WARM FUZZIES!!!
I felt sexually attracted to that guy in the picture. I had heard of Prince, but only listened to Purple Rain in the background. Now, with my newly acquired  English language  skills I was able to understand the lyrics. They went straight down my tummy, butterflies, straight into my libido.
A sexual awakening through Prince, Purple Rain, Darling Nikki and When Doves Cry. I thought he looked like an older and talented version of my highly abusive love interest, which belongs in the chapter of freaks I've kissed.

This is what went through my head on my last visit to London. We are lucky to awake feelings when stimuli knock on memory lane...