Walking

One of my favorite things to do when I have free time is point myself in a diretion and walk, occasionally turning down a new street when the mood strikes. Nothing can give you the taste, the essence of a city like a long walk. One night I was waiting for a play to start, so I wandered away from the main drag of Leicester Square (an area much like 42nd street in New York) and within five minutes I was walking past porn shops, another five minutes brought swanky restuarants.

When I take walks near my flat, which is in a rather nice area, I find the generic victorian tract houses giving way to the occasional even older church, a fenced in park, or a modern complex for shopping. Everything is right on top of everything else here. Groceries stores on almost every corner, an indian restuarant next door to every grocery store. On Monday I walked with my boss to a meeting and we went through Soho and Chinatown and down into the main theatre district in a ten minute walk. I'm so used to sprawly cities, cities that stretch out like a man in the desert, reaching out another inch, dragging the rest of himself behind; this city is huge but pulled in, like a sumo wrestler sitting cross-legged and hunched over. It's probably obvious that I haven't finished my first cup of tea, I usually try to keep my metaphors more aesthetic.

There's one more bit to tell that has nothing to do with walking, other than I may be walking here longer than I'd thought. My boss talked to me yesterday about possibly employing me for a month or six weeks after my program ends. Since I got a six-month visa on a whim, this could work. It would, after all, be slightly more fitting to my talents than farming organically, though that might still happen. Well, we shall see.