Camden

I was finally able to visit the UK in the fall a couple of years ago. I arrived in London via train. I spent the journey south looking out the window after trying unsuccessfully to focus on the book I picked up at the station. I thought of how sometimes you have dreams of doing something, meeting someone or visiting somewhere, and then they come true.

After copious research and careful planning, I decided to stay slightly north of town, near Euston Station where my train arrived. I had my purse, my little travel book for the UK, and a carry-on bag perched on my suitcase. And there were 2 critical elements – I had a little piece of paper where I had written how to get to the hotel, and I was dressed up and wearing heels.

The sun was setting as my train pulled into the station, slightly delayed. As I quickly followed everyone out, I noticed a small group leaving through a side exit. Sure that this was the better way to get outside, find my bearings and get to the hotel, I followed. They quickly dispersed – most heading left. I looked around and determined that I needed to go right. Confident in my ability to find the hotel, I set off, pulling my heavy suitcase behind me. Clicking along in my heels, I followed the road until it ended, then went left and started seeing signs welcoming me to Camden. I didn’t even see it on my map, and eventually decided I was far north of where I wanted to be.

I retraced my steps, asked three people for directions, and found the hotel. Though I was tired and had wounded my feet, I woke up early the next morning, ready to begin on my perfectly planned itinerary. Armed with the map I had carefully highlighted to depict my optimum route, I headed out to tackle London yet again, this time in more sensible shoes. My route contained several sights, and I made it past the British Museum and continued on through the theatre district. Glancing at my map, I noticed I was doing well – the walk wasn’t taking nearly as long as I thought. Pleased with myself, I decided that if I headed slightly east, I could begin at Covent Garden and proceed westward throughout the day.

I must have been distracted while taking pictures of early-morning London. Maybe I just got turned around – my sense of direction is notoriously poor. But for whatever reason, I walked for about an hour. I was suspicious that what had once appeared so near was taking so long to reach, but I decided to bask in the wonder of exploring somewhere new. Then I found myself gazing up at the British Telecom Tower, once again far north of where I had hoped to be. Farther north, as it turned out, than I had started that morning. Camden had somehow taken my carefully highlighted map and sucked me back into a place where there was little to see or do.

I thought about Camden today. I attended a meeting at work – one that broke my heart and made me wonder why I’m pursuing this career when I’m so ill-equipped to handle it sometimes – then, rather than going into the office for the remainder of the afternoon, I came home. All the time telling myself to be a professional and proceed to my tiny cubicle, I detoured to the parking deck, found my car, and navigated the busy streets and interstate to return to my little sanctuary. Sometimes, despite the best of plans and intentions, I continue this cycle that somehow places me far from where I wanted to be. So I’m curled up in the corner of my couch, looking around at a professional BT Tower, and not seeing a friendly-looking red tour bus that can help me find my way.