Surreal

by Sumbul Pardesi (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

I didn't expect to find United Kingdom

There but out of reach. That was Europe. The big pin on my maps. The center of everything present. I touched down in Birmingham for the first time after an 18 hour journey via Dubai. I had always seen the sign. London Heathrow. Amsterdam. Dublin, Zurich and many more but this was the first time I was going to Europe. Unexpected is the word that comes to mind. Birmingham Airport, large but not big. Populated but empty. The not so important airport in the city, one of two. Passing through immigration after getting a bit lost and standing in the wrong queue, I finally made it out of the terminal. Stepping outside for a breather, I understood the meaning of cold. South Africa was cold, but not this cold, and not at this time of the year. I was once again in the northern hemisphere. The rain started to come down and a man chuckled as I started to put on my beanie, gloves and a spare jacket. He also smiled as he pulled me back into the warmth of the airport. From there, we took a train to the Birmingham New Street station. Elevated above the city for a bit, I saw the familiar landscape of urban and natural warfare, both looking to occupy more land. The station wasn’t as busy as I expected, unlike a station in Kuala Lumpur where an inner courtyard has multiple routes feeding into it from the streets and malls. In comparison, it was a small station. The outside was another story altogether. We decided to walk since the hotel was 10 minutes from the station. My first step onto the pavement stilled me. The colors swirled and words raced from my mind into the air, forming shapes and figures. It was as if the pictures were coming alive. I could hear the multiple English accents that I had tried to decipher from movies. I could see the buses, the taxis, and the police with their distinctive uniforms. The little overhang that sheltered us from the rain was lined with lights, old-timey lights. The public-use road in front was bustling with people. Two luggage cases in hand, I followed him to our hotel. Thin soled shoes, felt every dip in the cobbled, paved walkways, sliding in and out of water. The ten minutes turned to thirty as we pulled the cases uphill and around bends, waiting for traffic to pass and the rain to subside. Checked in and rested, we wandered out for food in the late afternoon. The roads turned and twisted as we made our way to the city center. He grew frustrated with my slow pace as I looked around in awe. There were subtle differences in the way people used spaces then back in Johannesburg. Where Johannesburg had the buildings and the infrastructure, this place had order. It was an amalgamation of culture and history and time and beauty. It was new and old at the same time. Architecture from multiple eras influenced the urban landscape. An Apple store resided in a replica of an old Greek or Roman building with colonnades and pediments. Buildings had no boundaries instead some that would have alleys next to them had been turned into covered walkways. The facades overlooked the main public square and the sides opened up as little shops accessible through the alley. The whole square ended in a terrace with steps leading to Saint Martin Square. I stopped and breathed. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. It was tall and majestic with pointed arches and towers. The gothic style architecture embodied a calm, serene demeanor. Wise and patient as it stood, a part of history, thick with heavy green moss in the present, awaiting the future. He pulled my arm, dragging me towards food. I looked back, capturing the moment in my mind, as I followed him. It was surreal, that whole day. I was expecting to find extraordinary, and yet it was normal, like every other place in the world. But it was unlike any place I had been to. People walked amongst history, and time here.