hard times

My friend and I spent a day on the town today. We started with what we thought would be a quiet hour at the museum. When we got there we quickly realized that, uncharacteristically, noise and crowds would surround us. The Darwin exhibition was sold out for the day. In front of the dinosaur rooms, hundreds of unruly kids barely held in check by their anxious parents were waiting for their turn to have a look at heaps of bones, most of them replicas.

Neither of this bothered us too much. Our destination was the Wildlife Photographer of the Year show. I had seen last year's exhibition with the same friend. Back then, we had got to the museum less than an hour before it closed. The time had not been nearly enough to enjoy all the spectacular shots, but it was very peaceful and a truly inspiriting experience. Today, we had all the time in the world but dearly payed for this privilege. The exhibition hall was full of people.

We had to muscle through throngs of visitors, straining our necks to catch glances of the photos' descriptions. Nature's majesty as shown on dozens of brilliant photos was thus juxtaposed with teeming urbanity and the urgency of modern life – in a way a fitting metaphor for our times. Smaller animals and delicate flora appeared particularly vulnerable in this contrast. How can you avoid protective reflexes in such a situation and not vow to do all you can to conserve what grows and lives on our planet? Despite the clamor and deafening shuffling of feet, I walked away uplifted and inspired.

My friend hadn't come to London for inspiration, though. He wanted to get his village out of his head for a weekend and told me, when I had asked him of his plans for the weekend, that he wanted to hit as many bars as possible. Thus we proceeded in the general direction of touristic London and immersed ourselves deeper in the crowds. In Covent Garden, we found the first pub we liked, not overly full and with a big screen showing the Scotland vs. Ireland rugby game. Two hours and one pub later, the game was over, Ireland had prevailed, and our immediate thirst for beer was quenched. We were hungry.

A long walk through Soho with many unrewarding peers through restaurants' windows and onto their menus ended when we found a Thai restaurant that I had once tried to eat in but been sent away from. On a Saturday night they were fully booked and no one without a reservation would get a meal. Tonight again, I didn't have a reservation, but this time we were lucky. We got a nice table and, over divine starters and then a very tasty meal, observed substantial coming and going at the door. Lots of people were turned away empty-stomached, as the restaurant had filled up right after we got our table.

Before we called it a night, we stopped at Piccadilly Circus to watch the crowds. It was shortly before midnight and as busy as it could be. Hummer limos swooshed by and double-decker buses booked for private parties. Barely dressed hens traipsed from bar to bar, giggling foolishly. Tourist snapped pictures of the blinking lights. What struck me was that all day we had stomped through crowds, witnessed activity and energy, seen life pulse, and felt the heat. They say a recession is hitting the UK badly, but today I saw nothing of it. The city didn't feel one bit different. Let's hope it stays that way.