Two days ago, I took full advantage of my flight lay over time. I didn’t sleep on Heathrow’s harsh plastic chairs, not did I smell the duty free Prada perfumes. I went out and tried to capture London’s vibe in less than 14 hours. And the city felt like a high school bully who just slapped fellow classmate Boston and walked away with no regrets. 
It took me an hour or so to realize that in downtown London I wasn’t going to see people wearing Red Sox shirts or funny crab hats. The passers-by I saw here were French ladies in silk dresses and Italian gentlemen with long Konica cameras hanging on their necks. I breathed in the first wave of European fashion and kept observing my surroundings.
Oxford Street’s architecture somewhat reminded me of Boston’s governmental center. I saw fusion of historical heritage and contemporary design. Building signs and statues attached to brick houses highlighted London’s rich history. “Here since 1789,” read the sign of a candy shop I entered. Clearly, this candy shop has existed long before my college.
Soho’s coffee shops somewhat reminded me of Boston’s North End. Small and full of life, they attracted crowds of fashion-savv
y visitors. These visitors, however, faced the vibrant street and not each other. Clearly, the importance of people-watching in London is bigger than that of Boston.
London did prove superior to Boston in fashion and architecture, history and vibrancy. Yet, to me, it lacked Boston’s casual charm. Maybe 14 hours weren’t enough, after all.
