A Psychogreographical Look at Camden Town

“It's survival in the city, When you live from day to day, City streets don't have much pity, When you're down, that's where you'll stay” The Eagles.

Once you think you know and understand London, you travel 40 minutes on the underground and end up in some obscure place with a completely different lifestyle. In Kensington everyone is rushing. What’s the big rush?

I decent down the dark, damp, mouse infested tunnels to board on the Piccadilly Line. In the circular gloomy tunnel I walk with the swarm of people that alighted the lift with me. We twist, turn, walk down some more stairs until we are at the lowest point of London. The windy tunnel pushes the stale air in your nose and mouth and fills your lungs. Shove your way onto the packed train towards Cockfosters, and you’re off. Please mind the gap, and don’t get caught in the doors or you’ll get a bruise.

Sitting in the tube is an unpleasant way of passage, if you even get a seat. It squeals and hisses, tugs and pulls while the different trains criss and cross in the underground network. The person next to you seems to get closer with every breath you take. You step back, and they move with you. You are one body now. What is that smell?

At last, Kings Cross, the metropolis of trains. It is time to switch and go north to Camden Town. I’m going to the market, where I have never been before. I’ve heard many great things, but it’s taken me until now to explore it.

I alight at Camden Town and immediately realize I am not in Kensington or anything like it anymore. Instead of perfectly tailored suites and loafers, there are dread locks, jeans, hemp hoodies, leather, chains, and boots. This is urban. This is Camden Town. I walk down Camden High Street and am bombarded by shop keepers selling me their wares. I don’t need any trinkets or clothes sir, thank you though. ‘Get a piercing here, love, we will give you a discount.’ He directs me to an ally and I just keep walking. I do not need a piercing here, especially not in an ally, from some random guy in Camden.

Walking on, I pass hemp shops and hookah bars. The thick white smoke streams lazily out of their client’s noses and rises to the dark sky.  The shops are filled with dull indolent colors that decorate their shirts, bags, and posters. People here are friendlier, not like other parts of London. The pace of life is slower in Camden. People are here to enjoy themselves. There are smiles on their faces and looks of content.

I press on down the dimly lit street with strung Christmas lights and a couple random street lamps. I crossed Regents Canal and saw Camden Lock Market. It looked brilliant. I couldn’t resist the allure of this infamous market place. Trying to cross the Regent Canal Bridge with all the traffic was nearly impossible. Waiting, waiting, waiting while these cars speed over the tiny, made for one bridge. Zoom, zoom, zoom, red car, white lorry, yellow car, black cab, motorcycle, air pollution.

There were booths of every sort. Jewelry sparkled in small string of lights that was above them, while the smell of leather bound books wafted through the air. Mulled wine and crepes were on every other corner creating a heavenly Christmas smell in the entire area.

As I walked deeper into the market, the more unique and alternative the shops became. Metal Militia was filled with shirts of every metal band you could think of. Metallica, AC/DC, Pantera, Megadeth, Slayer. It is was a British Hottopic. So this is where all the alternative excitement is. In a city as big as London, there had to be a punk section. This is it!

Has this always been alternative? Banksy’s art is on every shirt, poster or iPhone cover. This area smells of rebellious anti-government youth. Ones that cry “Come you masters of war, you that build all the guns, you that build the death planes…I can see through your mask”. The IRA guy throws his bouquet of flowers into the next market section.

Camden town market is forever laid out to be a giant labyrinth, ultimately leading you to Cyberdog. Neon lights, motherboards, and cyborg contacts fill this rave store in Camden Town. It is hard to avoid. The lights draw you in.

Keep walking. Walk past the pale man covered in piercings with dark thick hair that drapes down his back past the hem of his black leather jacket. Keep walking. Walk past the food stands that offer you free samples. Walk past the other that sell some sort of cooked up cat and dog. Are you sure that is chicken?

How do you leave? Where is the exit for this maze? Did someone make this plan? Creating this mess of a market as confusing as possible so you cannot escape. You are doomed to stay and spend all of your money. I think it is a strategy. Without all of these stalls and booths there would be nothing. Would it be a big open car park?

After I while I found my way out of the market, and I walked back down high street to get back to the underground. While I was on the tube I reflected upon everything that I had just seen. Camden is nowhere near similar to Kensington yet they are hardly 5 miles apart.  The differences between the two are immense. People in Camden were real. 

Just Me and My Dad: York

Dad and I arrived in York pretty late in the evening. We passed a few B&B’s, not sure which one to try to get a room in. We drove around York, puzzlingly lost for quite sometime until I told him to just pull over, and I will go ask someone. After running around York on foot, I got some rather good information which told us to go  here, there, and to this street with lots of B&Bs on it. So we head out of town in our little stupid polo, and end up passing the street with the B&Bs. By now, we are both a little on edge and nervous to not find anywhere to sleep! (Since all the hotels and other Inns we tried were booked full!). We approached a ‘hotel’ on the right side of the road and I said “Stop stop stop stop stop, we are going here!!!”. So we stopped, and got the last room in the Beachwood Close Hotel.

Dad was tired, and didn’t really feel like exploring, but I forced him to go out, since it was only 8pm. We had a beer downstairs at the hotel’s bar and had a conversation with the owner! He was a nice, well informed old man with lots of fun facts. Did you know… It is illegal to kill or shoo a cat in the city walls of York. Richard III loved cats and gave them freedom to do as they please in York.  In the city of York it is legal to murder a Scotsman within the ancient city walls, but only if he is carrying a bow and arrow, or is it if he is wearing a kilt? And not on Sundays! AND Guy Fawkes is from York, and to honor… or respect the idiot that came out of their town, it is illegal to hold any bonfires within the city of York. Hahahaha!

Anyway, we took a cab up to the gates near the pubs and inns that I found while exploring for a B&B. The Guy Fawkes in was our first stop! It was dimly lit with only a few real lights and some tall wax candles dripping on the floor and bar. There was a guy playing guitar there that night… Gypsy Bill perhaps? Dad claimed to not really want to listen to someone playing a really loud guitar but I couldn’t get him to leave after we had a drink. Hahaha. It was a lot of fun and dad loved the dragon something bitter ale.

After I dragged dad away from the Guy Fawkes Inn, we went to another pub just down the way. That was where I got such good directions to find a room. So we had another beer there, sitting next to their nice warm fireplace! This place had a very different atmosphere from the Guy Fawkes, but it was still a wonderful place in its own! Once again, dad had some sort of bitters and I don’t remember the name since I am writing this a month after it happened (stupid term papers getting in the way).

On our way back to the B&B we stopped at the Three Legged Mare (where the owner of the B&B said to go). It was not nearly as cool as the pubs I chose, but that is because I am just too brilliant at pub choosing. The beer here that we chose wasn’t very good either. So, we left about half in our cups and departed. Leaving some is better than getting sick eh!?

The walk back took about 30 minutes maybe. We saw a black cat in the street who zig zagged in front of us about 3 times… Then he just wanted to be petted, so I petted him J

The next day, we got up, hardly. I tried to take a shower but I couldn’t get the water hot, and it kept having high pressure and low pressure. Spaztastic shower. It must have been haunted.

Breakfast was great, as usual. I ate the beans again!

Then I wanted a nap, but instead we went to explore the city! It was such an amazing place! We started at the TI, then made our way to the York Minster. I thought dad wanted to tour it, and dad thought I wanted to tour it, but really, neither of us really wanted to pay to go in and look around! So I called us out on our bluffs and we exited the line (after absorbing the high vaulted ceilings and brilliant stained glass windows, of course).

We moseyed along York and ended up at the Shambles, exactly where I wanted to go. It was so cool! The buildings were so old, the street tiny, and unfortunately it was almost shoulder to shoulder of people. The shops were very cute though and dad bought mom a glass that was fashioned from a bottle of Banks Bitters.

After the Shambles we went to the ‘currency exchange’ where I explained to dad that he will always get ripped off about 10% at these places and you should just pull money out of the bank’s atm. I hate the exchange places. I think they are rubbish. Anyway, we then went to Vodaphone and got me a new little voda. This time it was a Samsung candy bar burner phone! This came in sort of handy while we were about our travels over the next week, even though it drops calls like no body’s business.

After that we made our way to the York Castle Museum. It was like walking through a time machine, quite literately. I really liked the area that was designed to be an old Victorian style town. It was fun. Especially for a historian. Hehe.

Before we ate dinner/lunch we went on a walk on the old historic city walls of York. They completely surround the city and its basically a footpath now. That was fun! But the wind was brutal and I thought it was going to blow me off the wall, since there was not really fencing the entire way… there was only a fence to keep you from falling at certain points where it would be very dangerous for you to fall, like the street or water. But most of it was only a 6 foot drop to some luscious looking grass.

Yo Sushi was the lunch destination since every other place was either typically greasy fish and chips, or ridiculously overpriced anything.  Although, after we devoured almost everything the chef put on the conveyer belt, we did not end up saving much money. Ever since we came to London when I was younger, I have wanted to eat at Yo Sushi because it just seemed cool! You just grab a plate off the conveyer belt that runs along all the booths and bars of the restaurant, then you are charged by the color of your plate. It was pretty tasty. We had a couple rogue items of course, but overall it was good. Later however, we both got severe stomach aches. Boo.

We decided to take a cab back to the hotel since it was cold and starting to spit that pesky English mist again. We got in our little black polo and went off again down the M1, this time headed to THE SOUTH. 

PS: Have you ever read the "Little Critter" books? That's where I get my title. Childhood was such a blissful place. 

Just Me and My Dad: The Wall

After much long anticipation and excitement, my father arrived at Heathrow Airport Terminal 4. I trudged along Gloucester Road around 8 in the morning, stumbled into Starbucks, chatted to a really friendly gal behind the counter, got my coffee and croissant and trudged to the station. The Piccadilly line was rather desolate this morning, for that I was thankful. The night before I was up late with too much excitement to sleep. I drew a sign to hold at the airport that said "DA" with a inky British Flag in the background. It was quite dashing but I forgot to hold it with all the confusion of finding the proper terminal and door. While I was waiting I ran and got a coffee at Costa for dad, as he had requested upon his arrival. Americana, black. Disgusting watered down expresso. My only complaint about the actual coffee customs here is that they serve everything with regular old milk. Why not cream? Half and half? Something a little more substantial. 

Seeing my old man walk through the big doors with his black 6 nations rugby shirt, cargo pants, salt and pepper beard and (my) over-sized luggage covered in horses and another normal black bag was a sight that I had dreamed of for weeks! After we greeted each other we made our way to the bus that would take us to the rental card place. It was funny to see dad slightly askew on the public transportation bus, since it was bouncy and head jerking. I stayed rather still, but he was all over the place. I guess being on public transportation almost daily for a few months will give you 'sea legs'. 

The woman at the Hertz counter was delightfully friendly. She was from Glasgow and was interested to hear about my trip to Edinburgh. After she pointed us north on the M1, we headed out of the building to find out car in spot 22. The Volkswagen Polo was adorable! It took a few minutes to figure out how to pop open the hatchback, but we got it. We got loaded after fits of giggles when dad went to the wrong side of the car. Driving was intense. 

This little Polo had a tight gear box, a steering wheel on the right side of the car, and poor visibility. But it did have good gas mileage. We zipped along the M1, getting passed by everything from motorcycles to lorries. But we didn't care. There was no hurry for us this day. We were just happy to be spending time with each other as we laughed at the cows that we drove by. We joked about how mom would have honked the horn at the cows, and wanted to stop to look at the sheep. 

It was not terribly difficult to know if we were going in the proper direction, as the big overhead road signs clearly stated we were going to "THE NORTH". Good grief, Winter is Coming? Where are the wolves anyway? We merged left off the motorway a couple times to get a drink or go potty, but we stopped for lunch outside Nottingham. Good thing I didn't have to walk to Nottingham... (Hiss, you know from Robin Hood?) We drove by Sherwood Forest, and didn't get to stop. But during our search for lunch, we drove through a few small villages, and wandered around until we found a cute pub. 

The pub was all the charming in this small little town that doesn’t get many American visitors. While I was in the loo, dad walked up to the bar, and the classic old man staring into his cup wondering where his life went said the usual “hey how are ya?”. Dad replied “Im great, how are you?” and the old man sat up right real quick and said “Jesus Christ!!! Now that’s one hell of an accent!” At any rate, the woman tending bar said that the kitchen was closed (even though there was more than one sign that stated it should be open) they just do as they please around here then. Anyhow, we had a beer each as not to be rude. I had a Carling but was slightly nervous drinking the whole pint on what was now an empty stomach… plus dad’s driving in England. He had to help me finish it a bit. He enjoyed one of the local ales and we went on our slightly more laughable way.

The drive to the restaurant we were directed to was filled with hoots and laughter since the drink was strong. But we made it there alive and divulged into a steak and ale pie with peas and chips. It was a great meal! They also had wifi, so we called mom to let her know we were both alive.

Then we made for the north again.

After sleeping for 5 hours, traveling with my dad, and having a belly full of pie and ale, it was really difficult to stay awake for the rest of the drive. Every time I got quiet dad would say “Heeeey now!!! I have jet lag and I am still going, don’t leave me hanging!” So I would stay awake. Then get quiet “Noooooo jozi you wake up!” So I would blabber on about things I have learned, information that is irrelevant to normal people but treasured by me and my father.

At the next rest stop we decided we should probably book a place to stay that night, as it was getting dark and lord only knows where we were going to sleep. After some speculation and careful consideration to location and price, I booked a room at the Castle Bar Hotel in Bishop Auckland. (The town where the Bishop of Durham Cathedral lives/lived)

Once it got dark it started to rain. Driving in the dark, rainy, wrong side of the road would be cause for concern but my dad is a warrior! We only got honked at twice, and almost got side swept once in a roundy. We made it to the hotel with my crappy navigational skills by 8 or 9pm. The place was really quite nice and the town was adorable. The Castle Bar Hotel was really quite deserted for a Saturday night, so it made me suspicious. Was the food bad? Do they have ghosts? Is the service mean? Well, the food was delicious, we had a salad and some bread and other fiddles. During dinner a football team was there and they were gearing up for their match tomorrow. Their coach was inebriated but really friendly when he was talking to us in his drunken Newcastle accent. You couldn’t understand a word the man was saying but we stood there, agreed, and nodded. There was a ghost, Mary, who haunted the upstairs where we were staying, but she was supposedly a friendly ghost so nothing bad happened. Just the erry something standing on your chest feeling. What, you don’t get that? Must be a gypsy thing. The service was great, the women that worked there were super friendly.

We found out why it was deserted. At 11pm, there was a Halloween party. This was probably the biggest party this small town sees all year. So to say the least dad did not get to sleep until about 2 or 3 once the party moved outside or died.

The room was comfortable though and I slept like a baby since I was used to annoying noise outside. The shower was epic. The space was incredible compared to the tiny, rather dirty shower I use in London. So I took a long hot shower. I won’t talk about how dad blew up the toilet though. And I won’t talk about how he blew up every toilet from the wall, to London, to Waterloo…

We had breakfast brought up to our room and I ate my entire meal. I have never eaten that much breakfast since I have been in this country. I ate all the beans, all the sausage, all the bread, all the tomatoes. I ate all the mushrooms and everything else on my plate EXCEPT the black pudding. I didn’t even humor that idea after the haggis incident. Dad had a bite of his I think, but didn’t really like it. Shocking. He ate quite a bit for breakfast which is surprising because he usually doesn’t eat much at all for breakfast.

We loaded our bags up again, and headed out. Trying to get out of the awkward car park was a challenge. It was actually a carwash as well, so there was a woman waiting to get her car washed (in the rain) while we were trying to back out. She made no effort to scoot out of the way. But anyhow, in due time, we made our way out of the lot and onto the road.

The drive that morning was one of the most beautiful and enjoyable drives of my life. We drove through Northumberland. Over hills and through valleys, past cows and sheep that mom would love. We chased a rainbow for hours until we were practically underneath it. Have you ever seen a rainbow’s end? Have you ever seen a rainbow so bold you can hardly see through it? We hadn’t until then. We pulled off the road at certain lookout points and just watched the nature and snapped some pictures. The beauty of this land is immense and goes on for what seems like forever.

The wall snuck up on us in our drive, we arrived in a small town that had tiny little roads so we knew it was ancient.  We were not sure if we should stop there or keep going. We kept going. We turned left and drove along and I was looking around at the landscape and I said “Hey dad… I think we are driving on the wall”. He hesitated, observed the landscape and said “Holy Crap, we really are!” Then the nerding started. I poked his arm repeatedly like a child and said “Dad! Dad! Dad! You’re at the wall! Youre here! Here, at the wall! Hadrians Wall! The Roman one!” We laughed then fell silent again and just started out the windows at the wall and the Northumberland lands.

We went on to one of the Roman forts that had been dug up and identified. This place was sweet! You could walk through the remnants of everything. At the barracks I walking in about half of the doorways to the rooms and said “Hi, Im Jozi, How are you?” and walked out. We walked down further and found the gates to the fort, and to the other side of the wall basically! We walked down to the river and found the bathhouses and bridge that cross the swiftly flowing river. This thing could suck you in even if you were standing 10 feet back on the bank. Swoosh!

It started to do that annoying thing that the weather does in England, mist. It doesn’t really rain, it just mists and sometimes the mist gets fatter. It really just depends. But classically, it started to mist so we went back to the museum and poked around at the artifacts. There were a couple skulls, some weapons, bowls, and a shoe, etc. It was kids day or something so there was a million and five children running around. But in the museum a guy (that worked there) was telling the kids an interactive story about a Roman man that would have lived there. It was so cute! It was basically what I want to do when I grow up. Teach kids history in a way that they like it and find it cool. So I eaves dropped like a creep and then we exited.

In the gift shop/exit, dad stopped and talked to some girl about things to do in the area and such. She recommended some places to go in York once we got there, and all sorts of things so that was cool to talk to her, but she sort of droned on forever and I was ready to go. Dad and I took off for the next place, but ended up passing it and not turning around.

Up the road was the Twice Brewed Inn, and we were hungry for lunch! So we went in this old pub to get some chow. It was Sunday and I had been wanting to try a ‘traditional Sunday roast’. Good thing we split the roast beef because it was a giant meal. It was so good though! It had carrots, some strange vegetable, some other lettuce like veggie, Yorkshire pudding (which is basically a pot of gravy in a little bread bowl/pot), roast beef and mashed potatoes. Holy cow it was epic. We had tea and sticky toffee pudding to finish up. By the time we were done eating we were thawed out from the cold British misting elements.

So we made our way back the way we came in our little black VW polo. Vroom vroom. We made it Halsteads Fort or something like that, I don’t remember the name and I am too lazy to take the postcard off my bulletin board to see what it was really called. It was really sweet though. This fort was about 5 times bigger than the other one. Although this one was quite a walk off from the road.

On the walk down the hill into a small valley, and then back up another hill to the fort, of course it was filled with sheep. I attempted to pet one but they just are not very friendly little turds, are they? So then I decided to herd them with my arms. (swoosh swoosh like I was a bird trying to fly) they moved like I was a real shepherd! I would consider it a win.

Once we got to the fort, we were once again frozen by the elements, luckily there was another shop and museum up there. We went and thawed off and read some rubbish bulletins about the fort. Ok, it wasn’t rubbish at all, it was really cool. Dad got a prize for my little brother and some post cards. They also had these little pins that said “History Matters” and I asked if they were for sale and he guy said “well not really, we are just giving them to the kids today, but you can have one if you want”. So I took one hehe, because I am a nerd and a child. Dad got one as well!

We wandered around this chilling fort, the misting had stopped but the wind picked up and tried to throw me off the wall as I stood on the edge of the empire. It was slightly epic once we got to the ‘wall’ end of the fort because if you are a historian, you can just imagine them building the wall and looking out over there… “Tacitus, beyond this wall lies barbarians!” Dad and I basked in the history of the wall for quite a wall just enjoying ourselves with a stupid grin on our faces.

We headed back to the car after herding the sheep on the way back. We dethawed in the car for a few minutes then began driving back to York. As the road got darker, and the mist got fatter, I drifted to sleep.