London, UK

🇬🇧 London in Layers: A First Day to Remember

Jennifer and I landed at Heathrow at exactly 12:52 PM. As the plane rolled to a stop, I felt that familiar stir—London was calling me home. I’d lived here years ago, and the city still felt like part of me. But this time was different. This time, I was seeing it through Jennifer’s eyes. It was her first time in London, and I couldn’t wait to share it with her.

We took the Underground into the city, skipping the cab to dive straight into the rhythm of London life. The Piccadilly Line carried us through the city’s arteries, and when we finally surfaced near Trafalgar Square, we stepped into a scene that was anything but ordinary.

The square was buzzing with dual energy. On one side, a peaceful protest about the war in Gaza had drawn a large crowd—placards raised, voices unified, a powerful call for justice. Just steps away, a music festival was in full swing. The air pulsed with bass, laughter, and the scent of street food. It was surreal—two worlds colliding in one iconic space. London’s finest were out in full force, managing the flow with calm precision, ensuring both events could unfold safely and respectfully.

We made our way through the crowd and checked into our hotel—The Grand at Trafalgar Square. The name fits. It’s stately, elegant, and perfectly placed. From our room, we could hear the distant hum of music and the echo of chants—a city in conversation with itself.

After freshening up, we headed to Walkers of Westminster for drinks and dinner. For me, it wasn’t just a dinner spot—it was a return to my first watering hole when I first came to the UK in the 1990s. I remember walking in back then, wide-eyed and eager, soaking in the charm of the place and the thrill of being somewhere new. Coming back now, with Jennifer beside me, felt like closing a loop. The dark wood interiors, the warm lighting, the familiar hum of conversation—it was all still there. Jennifer ordered a floral gin cocktail, and I went for a pint, just like I had all those years ago. We toasted to her first day in London, to our shared adventure, and to the city that never stops surprising. And it doesn’t hurt that my last name is Walker.

Later, we walked along the Thames to the London Eye. And though I’d lived here before, neither of us had ever ridden it. It was a first for both of us. As the capsule slowly climbed into the sky, the city unfolded beneath us—Big Ben glowing in the distance, the river winding like a ribbon through the heart of London. We stood side by side, quietly taking it all in. That shared sense of wonder made the moment unforgettable.

Back on the ground, we found a gelato stand. Jennifer picked pistachio; I went with salted caramel. We sat by the river, watching boats drift past and street performers entertain clusters of tourists. The contrast of the day—the protest, the festival, the serenity of the river—lingered in our minds.

London had shown us its layers—familiar and new, political and playful, gritty and graceful. And for Jennifer, it was just the beginning. For me, it was a beautiful return.