London Calling

Its a tale of two empires. The United States and England have a fraternal link. Beyond our brotherly spats and disagreements, the similarities in our cultures provide an eerie reflection of what is and what could be the future of our country.

London is a vast city of neighborhoods grown from the repeated populations booms associated with every new territory the British Empire claimed and rescinded. At its core are triumphant works of Gothic architecture next to modern financial buildings. Its past as an empire and its current financial capitol all woven into its asphalt tapestry. Its a grand statement to all of its achievements.

This is the UK, rebound from its near collapse as an Empire stretched too thin to maintain its hold on the world. Its able to look back at its past and victoriously claim its part in history. Once you look past its gilded buildings, and museums celebrating its place in science, you find the sobering truth to it all.

London is marred with memorials disguised as beauty marks. They are the real reminders of Imperialism and its lust for empire building. Each grave stone is a list of tens of thousands of soldiers who sacrificed themselves, willingly or not, to protect country and a very big crown. Millions of lives robbed of its whole potential to make sure that land far away from the home soil is protected. The city, in all of its glory, is a extravagant, well dressed, jewel encrusted monument to the dead.

Under London's veneer of expensive brands and sports cars is the soul of the city. A huge population of hard working, worldly, well educated immigrants, and locals keeping the city together. Its communities are strong; held together by sporting rivalries and common bonds.

For me, I had never felt so welcomed in a country. Maybe its the common cultural DNA of shared political follies and successes, but there is a definite kinship. The bond, and common language, opened up opportunities I hadn't assumed possible. I shared beers with people I met hours ago. I enjoyed conversations over curry with a group of friends I had just met. I explored parts of east London with accommodating locals that were more than happy to show me their neighborhoods. Tips and suggestions were bountiful. Free rooms were offered by just about every person I met.

London is special, not for the vast power and wealth it managed to squander on more power and more wealth. Its not its vanity or ego, either. What makes London great is its people and community; its generous, embracing, diverse, committed and intelligent people. Something that we need to see and learn from ourselves.

Old York by way of Manchester

Opposites. It happened to be a central theme to my trip in the UK. A country rich in tales of castles and kingdoms, valiant green thieves, roman history, megalithic structures, churches, and cults. Then there is modern England. Queens, chemists, steam engines, wrought iron, and taxes and conquest.

There is a conflicting charm to the landscape that is the UK. Opposites of romanticism and the industrious near past. The first part of my visit brought me to effective centers of both. Manchester, the home of the industrial revolution, and York, a story book castle city, and one of the few places in England where Romans camped.

Manchester is much like other western industrial cities. Its recovering from the same overseas production fallout the US suffered. However, its still proud of its "firsts" and rightful claims to modern society. After all, this is where Rutherford's discoveries largely proved the current model of chemistry.

Beneath its triumphs of achievement is the cities big heart. A city of people, tightly knit by community, a pint, and football. Its here that I found the overwhelming genuine kindness in its people. A hospitality and kinship that I haven't even seen in any other country. Between that and its handful of museums and attractions (Curry Mile, Manchester University, parks and its river), Manchester provides a relaxing pace that made it an ideal break between rapid traveling.

York was the real vacation. A tiny city nestled in Yorkshire, providing enough sights for two days even when I had five. Even though the city walls can be walked in about an hour and a half, it provided a near folkloric backdrop to the city contained within. Every tiny block had some kind of unique story; some simple, some legendary, like the birth place of Guy Fawkes. Roads were contorted to fit the 100s of years of development. Crooked houses and secret alleyways led to small shops in old tradition. All of it under the impressive minster that stands as the city's omniscient observer.

The time I spent here gave me new friends and acquaintances that would form a central theme to my later trip to London.