London Journal - One Week In

It was raining this morning. Rain in January is beautiful. Rain anytime is beautiful, but there was something particularly lovely about it this morning. It filled me with a sense of calm energy and I found myself heading out the door with a plan of action in my mind, my London AtoZ ready at hand.

My first stop was the Houses of Parliament, which sit opposite Westminster Abbey.

When I went to Australia I spent five days in Sydney. On my first evening there it had rained and I'd gone walking through the darkened and damp streets. As I'd picked my way through a city I didn't know, I found myself below a bridge near the harbour. I'd come around from behind a wall and the Sydney Opera house was visible across the water, lit up like a glorious white flower rising up from the dark.

Seeing the Houses of Parliament was just like that. Just this sense of awe and amazement at something so iconic and familiar. Thousands of HP bottles that I've squeezed and there the buildings really were, stunning and illuminated by a rainy London sky.

Unfourtunately my camera died and my spare batteries were also dead. It's not really a bother because I'm planning on going back many, many times over.

It was chilly and I did have important tasks to accomplish. I took a CV to an art supply shop that's looking for sales staff and spent some time there, looking at the community posting board and smelling untouched art supplies. I thought of my yet untouched oils and began wondering what they would unveil when I finally feel ready to take the plunge properly.

I had to go to the BUNAC offices to photocopy some documents so I caught the tube and made my transfers to get to Farringdon. I managed to finish up at BUNAC in fifteen minutes. Having accomplished all my necessary tasks for the day I was then able to do something I'd been wanting to do since two days in to my adventure here. I went in search of the buddhapadipa temple in Wimbledon.

I took what can only be described as a convoluted route, as I was a little confused with the buses...but it was only an extra fifteen minutes over what Transport For London estimated on their Trip Planner. I found the correct road, which was lined with the most extravagant brick mansions. All the driveways were full of Audi's and Jaguar's and the like. I wandered down along the street, taking in the elaborate homes which seem freakishly huge when compared to the rest of London.

And then there is was.

And it wasn't like seeing Big Ben or seeing an Opera house. It was this calm moment when I saw the white building with it's ornate decoration, visible through black trees, perched upon a hill. I felt wonderfully serene as I walked down the drive to the front of the house in which the monks of the temple live. An older woman greeted me, ushering me inside once I'd removed my shoes. She offered me tea, which I gladly accept as the cold was seeping in and I hadn't had a tea for several hours.

She was just helping someone else leave so I set my bag down and looked around. There was this beautiful shrine of Buddha statues and pictures set in front of a window that overlooked part of the garden that surrounds the temple. I took it all in slowly, until the woman, Lyn, returned to the room and asked if I wanted to join her at the table. It's a huge square table where the monks eat in the morning and once in the afternoon. The two of us sat at one corner and had a quiet conversation. A few monks happened by whilst we talked. We greeted them and she told me all about them and how long they'd been living at the temple.

It was wonderful to sit and talk, sipping tea and watching birds play in the soggy snow.

As it grew dark a couple arrived. They had an appointment with one of the monks, so, to give them privacy, Lyn invited me into the office. One of the monks I'd met earlier was sitting there. She told him that I'm an artist and that I could probably help with some computer things, if he ever needed it. The room was nice and warm in comparison with the rest of the house. It was nice to sit there and take in the tiny space. The monk was delightful and he spoke to me about how he has no wisdom to give. He finds that when people come to him with a problem, they already have the answer. I agreed with him, knowing full well how true it was from my experience with my psychologist.

It was growing dark though, and I didn't feel sure enough about my route home to risk doing it past sunset. I said my goodbyes, thanking them for the tea and conversation. Once outside I intended to just leave, but my feet found the path to the temple and I let myself be taken up to the doors and then down the path around the building. In the dimming light of the day it was very calm and quiet. A heron startled as I crossed one of the bridges over the creek. A tiny bird with a bright red breast flew past me. My first authentic British robin! The trees were stark black, speckled with bright green moss, stretching into a misty sky. The path was lined with boards that bore words of wisdom.

I took the path straight around the temple and as I rounded back to the front I picked up the pace. It was chilly and I didn't want to risk getting lost in the dark. I headed back out onto the street lined with mansions and out to the main road. My bus came almost instantly and in an inspired moment I climbed the stairs to the second level, claiming a seat right at the front. Grinning from ear to ear, I took in the twilight colours of the city, watching droplets of condensation form on the glass and loving every moment of it.