Crash Landing on London, the City of Fear
My UK was Grey, and then it was Pink.
[Series: The Great Escape to Great Britain] Vol. 1 (Prologue)
한국어 버전을 보고 싶거나, 이야기를 계속해서 받아보길 원하시는 경우 아래 페이지로 이동해주세요.
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2009: A Worn Compass and a Paper Map
To me, the UK was synonymous with ‘Fear.’ It was 2009. I was twenty, clueless, and embarking on a grand tour of Europe. In an era before smartphones or even 3G, I wandered the labyrinth of London clutching nothing but a paper map and a compass.
To make matters worse, the aftershocks of the Subprime Mortgage Crisis hit just as I departed. Exchange rates skyrocketed like madness, and my pockets grew lighter by the day. Days endured by filling my empty stomach with a single hot dog from a street truck. Looking back, perhaps it wasn’t a vacation, but rather “field training in Western culture” disguised as travel.
Towards the end of my trip, I hid myself away in cheap lodgings on the outskirts, an hour’s bus ride from central London. The sorrow of living in a strange land, the subtle disdain directed at an Asian face, and the sharp voice of a B&B host taking out their anger on me. After a month of arduous journeying, I arrived in the quintessentially depressing British weather, only to suffer from severe ‘Travel Blue.’ I stayed stuck in the corner of my room. A place where I did nothing but count the days until I could return home. To me, London was always a cold, scary, grey city where the rain never stopped.
And then, 2020. I was heading to that grey city again. This time, to escape a disaster named ‘Pandemic’.
2020: New Friends and Warmth
The escape from Seville had not been easy. “We don’t take cards.” At the taxi driver’s thunderbolt of a statement, I had to empty every last coin from my pockets. Ryanair charged a fine close to half the ticket price simply because I hadn’t checked in online in advance. On the plane, they refused to give even a sip of water, using COVID as an excuse. (Though selling water was apparently fine.) A burning throat and parched lips.
‘The UK... will it be okay?’
The trauma of 10 years ago crept up my spine.
‘It certainly won’t be better than before. If anything, it will be harder.’
In truth, the situation was no better than the past. The world was closing its doors. Whether Chinese or Korean, having an Asian face meant being treated like the virus itself. I was terrified that I would once again be left high and dry, wandering the cold streets of London alone.
The Scent of Nostalgia
It was when I left the airport and arrived at Warren Street Station. I saw familiar faces. Friends who had heard the story of my hardships in Seville and came out to meet me. They were friends working as guesthouse managers in the UK. We had met briefly at a guesthouse I stayed in on my way to Iceland, but in a global crisis like this, such ties bind tighter than ever.
“Brother! You made it. Let’s go.”
With that one sentence, the fear I had harbored for ten years melted away like snow. A dramatic moment where a place of fear transformed into a basecamp.
As soon as we arrived at the accommodation, the air was thick with a familiar scent—the smell of nostalgia I hadn’t smelled in so long. For us, who had been surviving on curry scrounged from empty supermarkets in Seville, my friends were preparing a Korean feast.
The sound of meat sizzling. The spicy, pungent scent of Kimchi stew. And the warmth of people saying, “Welcome home.”
It was not a relationship between staff and guest. We were comrades reunited in a disaster, and we were family.
In that moment, I realized. This was no longer the cold London of 2009. My worry that I would be stranded and isolated was proven to be unfounded.
Epilogue: Nation, Nationality, and People
Starting my world travels, I often thought, “I am a free spirit belonging nowhere.”
But for the first time, I felt the visceral power of things that had seemed most abstract in daily life—Nation, people, and a sense of belonging.
Perhaps it was because the very first leg of my world tour had been to Russia, tracing the footsteps of independence fighters and reflecting on the hearts of my ancestors who lost their country. Or perhaps it was because of this unprecedented crisis the world was facing. I tried to imagine: ‘What if I had landed in the middle of this pandemic with the heart of a stateless person, without any connections?’ Just the thought made me dizzy.
“You are Korean!”
How could that single phrase be so missed, so grateful?
People speaking the same language.
Sharing the same food.
Worrying about each other’s safety.
The UK still had gloomy weather, and the virus was rampant.
In my eyes, however, London was no longer grey. Together with good people, that place was a warmer pink than anywhere else. My trip to the UK began again like that, with the scent of home-cooked food.
(End of Prologue)
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