Descriptive Essay Revised
My Visit to London
[Student’s Full Name]
I remember my visit to London. I was particularly excited about all the things I was going to see and do. I stayed awake the whole night before the flight, wondering what was going to happen on the trip. I had read a myriad of internet guides, trying to have a grasp of the city. I also sought to learn about all the places beforehand as not to look like a tourist; at least not a regular visitor. One of my first concerns was London’s weather. London can be unpredictable, or that is what movies and guides say. I did not know whether it was going to be hot or cold; that is why I packed almost all my closet into my red suitcase.
After a night staring blankly at the ceiling, the day broke, and it was time to go to the airport. I got dressed, trying to control my anxiety and nerves. Travelling was not the problem; the problem was that all the excitement of travelling abroad was getting on my nerves. After a reasonable hassle, I arrived at the airport in one piece. The air was cold, and I felt it like daggers against my skin. Perhaps the nerves had me imaging things, but I felt somewhat dishelved by the perspectives of the trip.
After passing immigration, I sighed with relief. I had seen many TV shows that portrayed that process as a hassle where people were regularly stopped and questioned over the simplest things. That is why I tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, to avoid any unpleasant situation. Apparently it all payed off, as the process was flawless.
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On the road to the plane, I could feel the rug under my feet; I imagined I was following the trail of millions of travellers whom year after year did the same thing I was doing today. I felt infinite.
On the plane, I watched the stewardess instructions with increased attention, as I deemed of capital importance the issue of my safety. I fastened my seatbelt, and the unfamiliar click startled me for a second. The same happened with the plane’s engines as they ignited. The engines did a deafening roaring sound that remembered me the roar of a lion I once heard on a documentary. However, after a night of not sleeping, the initial excitement changed to a slight feeling of boredom. Before I noticed, I was fast asleep.
A sound brought me back to my senses as I yawned and stretched in my chair. Apparently, the plane was preparing to land. I picked up my belongings and readied to exit the plane. I realized I had not had the time to peek out the window; I was so curious about seeing the English Channel and the English coasts. I read once that British beaches were freezing cold, and I had no interest in visiting them. My primary goal was to visit London, and if I had the time, maybe a few outside things. However, in a city as touristic as London, visiting all the landmarks might prove a titanic task.
The soothing voice of the captain announced we were arriving in London. The captain’s voice sounded so manly and calm; like a man who is in charge and knows what he is doing. I guess I had missed the food because I was starving. My stomach was not purring, as people say stomach does when you are hungry, mine was rumbling like an old pickup truck. It sounded so hard that the lady next to me asked me if I was hungry. I grabbed a snack I had prepared before, and my stomach grumbled in approval and satisfaction. However, I knew that the only way to settle the score with my hunger was to eat London’s most famous food, fish and chips.
Oh, London; how to describe you? At a first glance, it looked like a regular city with average hard-working people. However, the city oozed history. It looked as if every inch of it had something to tell. I could feel the city’s pulse coursing through it as I walked. Londoners are an odd bunch. They are friendly and polite, yet they seem too polite. I understand this might sound weird, but I was used to different manners, and it felt strange at the beginning. Although the time was sunny at the time I was on the plane; after arriving, the skies darkened announcing rain that did not come.
As I said, the first thing I did after arriving was eating fish and chips. I must say I was disappointed with the food. I had expected something different. This tasted like regular fried fish. I had hoped an explosion of foreign flavors in my mouth, not a mouthful of fried fish. Nevertheless, the texture of the fish complemented the salty taste of the chips, but I was expecting something different and more local.
The hotel was great. It had a feeling of grandeur, and the bed was comfortable. The mattress was soft, yet it supported my body in a way no mattress has ever done. I often hear the expression “sleeping on a cloud”, that day I understood what people meant.
I remember going to the Buckingham Palace to watch the changing of the guard. I wish I could have entered, but the Queen was there, and the gates were closed. The guards looked fascinating. They did not move, no matter what happened around them. I could see many obnoxious tourists trying to make them react, yet they could not. In my mind, I pictured the guards as Greek columns resisting century after century without crumbling, hoping the wind would come and bring change to their existence. The Palace itself looked regal as if the presence of the royal family imbued it with a kingly atmosphere. I left early, as Buckingham is one of the most famous places in the country and fills with tourists as fast I write this sentence.
When people imagine London, they picture the London Bridge, and I was no exception. The Bridge is marvelous. The sights were incredible. I felt like one of the many birds I saw zooming above me. I could even smell the river, feeling how it tried to recount me the secrets of the city. I inhaled deeply, trying to fill my lungs with London; attempting to bring its history back home; as if I could transport a piece of the city inside of me. The 19th-century architecture enthralled me, and for once I felt a Londoner.
Pardon me if I am recounting my experiences in a fast fashion, but I consider that the menial details of my trip are not as important as the big picture I intend to offer. In the same way, I consider more important recounting my feelings rather than a series of landmarks.
Although I am not a big fanatic of contemporary architecture, I am of landscapes, and the best way to see the city at its fullest was going to the London Eye. To me, the construction was not as impressive as it might have been to others. In my opinion, it stands oddly in a city whose buildings are mostly 19th-century relics. Nevertheless, I entered and felt grand. I felt greater there, even bigger than when I was inside the plane. I even imagined being a god arranging the destiny of London and its citizens with a flick of a finger.
My last meaningful recollection was riding London’s underground transport system, the Tube. It is enormous. This time I felt small when compared to the sheer greatness of it. Besides, the amount of people of many different countries that use it daily is enough to confuse anybody. It smelled; it reeked of people, it stunk of years after years of use. Its smell was almost overpowering. I had to take shelter on a woman’s floral perfume to avoid feeling overpowered by the tube’s fragrance. Let me get this right, it was not a foul stench per se; it was just different enough to make you think of the amount of people who use it every day. However, after a few days of use, my nose got used to it, and I felt almost a complete local.
I visited many things, as I longed for a more private experience of the city. Instead of doing just a tourist sightseeing, I tried to feel the pulse of the city. I spoke to people, tried a myriad of new things and although fish and chips did not appeal to me, Curry did. What I aim to say is that the city still holds many secrets, but I realized most of those secrets are not in plain sight and are hidden in those small places where the city reveals as it truly is, instead of the tourist trap everyone insists on seeing.
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