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Anarchy and Vegan Jell-O Shots: the London Underground was Calling

My Scholarship entry - Seeing the world through other eyes

WORLDWIDE | Tuesday, 10 April 2012 | Views [149] | Scholarship Entry

"Ten pence for a vegan Jell-O shot? I think you've undercharged me."

The extremely intoxicated bartender, fully clad in punk regalia, shook his head, unable to understand. I tried again, but the music drowned out my voice. I responded with a shrug and threw back the shot.

At this point maybe I deserved a bit of luck. After three months of working my way around farms in Ireland, doing everything from unearthing potatoes to artificially inseminating a cow, I was finishing off the summer by backpacking through the U.K. A short stay in Northern Ireland was followed by 24 straight hours of plays, puppet shows, and a ghost walk at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Unable to find a place to stay, I headed for London. A friend was interning in North Cross and I planned to stay with her. As I was unable to reach her ahead of time, she came home one evening surprised to find my bag outside the door of her flat and my body passed out in the common room.

London offers wonders for any tourist. The museums are free, the parks are vast, and there are limitless opportunities to people-watch. London, of course, has another side: hundreds of years of political history have led to various cultural factions to be driven underground. My ship-shod circumstances and good fortune allowed me to see both.

My friend's internship had been a bust. She had taken instead to spending her time connecting with the city’s anarchist groups. While she went to work, I would go to all of the big tourist attractions such as the Tate Modern, the British Museum, and the National Portrait Gallery. In the evenings, however, I joined her on jaunts to the local squats where activists had created a free shop, music venues, and a printing press.

One night we were invited to a punk show. Address in hand, we ambivalently crept through seemingly abandoned warehouses. Just as we were about to turn back, we heard the screech of a guitar and the clash of drums. Our very own London underground was calling.

Tags: Travel Writing Scholarship 2012

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