I was mentally unprepared for London.
I've been to two major cities in my life: Vancouver and Dublin. After navigating Dublin's twisting, narrow, people-packed streets I came home and found that Vancouver felt like a small country village, or a post-plague ghost city, depleted of chaos and clutter and general busyness.
London dragged me to the woodshed.
I knew the numbers going in. (13 million people in the London Metropolitan Area!)
I knew it was going to kick my ass.
Crowds exhaust me.
Even still, this is where we both unanimously decided to honeymoon. Mexico just has too much sun and beach and relaxation, you know? We're museum and history people.
"Bring out your dead!"
So I dug into Craig Taylor's Londoners before we left, as preparation. I wanted to get a taste and feel for the city prior to landing, wide-eyed and bewildered and with only a memorization of the tube map in my head. I considered it recon, intel-gathering.
I was left with two main impressions, post-reading of the book and post-departure from the city. 1) London will spit you out. 2) London will sink its teeth into you and, for better or worse, infect you forever.
I think I had a good time. I think I enjoyed the city. I think I want to return.
But I'm not entirely sure.