London, Alone - Pt. 2 - “Bloomsbury, Noodles”

I suppose I hadn’t had enough of getting lost the first day, because I feel like that was my principal activity today too. Thouugh it turn out so bad after all. Much of the day was spent either asleep or on my wild cyber-goose chase, yet even in the few evening hours I feel like I took in a lot. Also, though I briefly visited the library and took a tube ride yesterday, this was the first day I actually feel accultured to them.

I got to the Wellcome Library around 3 p.m. I should say that the library was nothing like what I expected. I hadn’t seen any pictures of it on their Web site, so I expected a tiny, old building with a loving, protective staff. Of course, this doesn’t make any sense; the Wellcome Library is one of the best libraries for the history of medicine in the world. To earn that reputation, it would need to have at least as many volumes as Northwestern does on the subject, and that’s a lot. It turns out it is a rather modern building -- not even its own building, actually, but a few floors within the Wellcome Trust. It is pretty similar to most research libraries and rare book rooms -- hour-long waits for materials, pencils only, no coats and bags, signing forms to hold you liable for the slightest crease, a few territorial librarians and researchers. The woman at the desk nearly had to break up a catfight between two people over a computer.

I didn’t get to look at much today -- just one of the expedition’s research papers, something that is actually held in the rare books room at Rush University, though they wouldn’t let me see it. It was somewhat illuminating because in this report, Todd (the Canadian scientist) includes a history of the Congo Free State, his ideas about disease causation and recommendations for prophylaxis. In itself it is a great example of how early-20th-century doctors thought about disease. We’ll see how useful it is for me in the long run.

After Wellcome closed at 5:30 I found my wireless, which occupied me for at least an hour (I had to finish up some work on the magazine article). After that I walked around Bloomsbury, just south of my hostel. This area is most famous for being the trotting ground and Virginia Woolf and friends. It’s also where you’ll find University College London and the British Museum. I accidentally found both earlier in the day, when I was trying to get to Euston Station. UCL didn’t look too different from an American college campus. The most distinctie features were the hundreds of posters advertising the massive anti-war protest going on tomorrow in Hyde Park. Don’t think I’m going to miss that; I’m stopping by an office supply shop (a “stationer”) tomorrow to get a poster board and Sharpie (“Don’t Blame Me-- I Voted For Kerry!”).

The part of Bloomsbury I explored was something of a mixture of upscale bars and restaurants with cheap student food and bookshops -- sort of like a very condensed Evanston, actually. I was searching for Wagamama which, legend has it, brought the “noodle shop” to the West, or at least to Britain. It was tucked in its own little nook off Bloosbury Street -- would never have found it if I wasn’t looking. It’s clear that everyone knew where it was, though -- I got there around 9 p.m., and the place was pretty packed. Some of that is due to the setup. In a plain, white room there’s about ten long benches, filled with people on either side. I felt sort of awkward eating there alone; they wouldn’t seat anyone across from me. They said it was all right, though -- it’s clear that they have a premium on speed. They give you a menu the moment you walk in the door, and the waiters place their orders by radio. I had the “wagamama ramen,” which I’m afraid wasn’t everything I’ve ever dreamed of in a noodle dish. I really should have gotten something with rice, but my main criterion was price -- I only had about eight pounds on me, because I had spent most of my cash that day on buying a Travelcard for the tube.

I got out of Wagamama around 10 p.m., but wasn’t tired at all, so I decided to take the tube to Picadilly Circus. In the old travel book Mary lent me, Here’s England, the author describes entering the Circus and not realizing she was in the heart of London. I doubt that would be possible today; the four corners surrounding the tube station and the statue of Eros are covered in bright video advertisements, Times Square-style. I wandered down a few streets, saw the ads for many of the major shows in town. I discovered, to my horror, that there is a T.G. I. Friday’s in town. I hope they don’t have to wear flair. You know, an amusing story would be to interview a person who works (or frequents) ten different iconic chain stores that have set up shop in London. At least they don’t have Wal-Mart yet.

I’d had about enough of Picadilly, so I headed home around midnight. Got lost once again... but tomorrow I think I’ll at least be able to find my way to my sort-of home.

I’d like to include some “observations on London/ers” for today, but I need to sleep. Perhaps tomorrow.

Oh, and I finally got my luggage, so... photos!

Tomorrow: protests through Hyde Park, Trafalgar Square... also maybe a bit of Chelsea.