Daily life in a large city may seem to be predictable (should I say conservative?) at times, but there are little things that happen occasionally that demonstrate what a great city London is to live.
Today was a beautiful sunny spring day in London and I headed out for a walk to get some lunch. Wanting something refreshing, I decided for a Greek salad instead of the usual bland and overpriced sandwich or deep-fried goodness. Sammy’s Souvlaki may not always be the most value-focused or healthy option (why do you think it is such a staple for the late-night crowd? Overconsumption numbs the taste buds for the questionable hygiene while dulling the sense that the food is not expensive) but their Greek salad is delicious.
Yes, it is true that the salad is not authentic. Sammy’s does have the prerequisite tomatoes, green cucumber, onion, olives and feta, but it is a knock-off suited to the mass audience. Adding lettuce and dumbing down the dressing commercializes the salad, but in such a great way. The combination of vinegar and salt blends well with the refreshing sweetness of the cucumber and other vegetables. Add to it the fact that everything is well marinated really brings out the whole flavor experience.
Anyway, I am standing by the food truck at the tracks on Richmond by Piccadilly (who designed that area? when will there be a drunken fatality at 3:30 am?) with my salad ordered and waiting impatiently for my lunch when the surreal begins!
A small crowd standing by the entrance of Molly Bloom’s caught my attention and I tried to figure out what was happening. Nestled into a dark recess could be seen a mother duck and her newborn chicks. The little family broke out of their huddle and started walking across Richmond, mother strutting proudly and the fluffy babies struggling at a hurried frenzy to keep up. Now this story could only continue into one of two possible directions: 1) mass hysterics as the flock is mowed down by uncaring speeding motorists, or 2) something incredible would happen. And I am not speaking about the selfish memory of confit that rushed to my taste buds. Fortunately, I witnessed the latter.
The crowd of spectators sprung into action and walked into traffic, arms raised to motioning the cars in both directions to stop. Although Londoners are used to having to be held up at this train crossing (again I say, who designed this area where a major traffic artery is cut off several times a day?), halting to watch a flock of 13 new born chicks trailing behind their mother to cross the street is pretty unusual.
The ducks waddled casually across four lanes of road, past the on-lookers, right past my lunch wagon and off to the grassy area beyond with nary a care in the world. I tried to get a picture of the moment, but my iPhone’s camera really isn’t the best part of that technology. And while I originally expected some adverse reactions by impatient motorists, smiles abounded and I am sure that innocent memories of childhood flooded everyone’s heads. Who could possibly be annoyed by such a cute display of the best in human nature? Traffic resumed and the moment was gone.
I thought about the ducks’ little adventure, wondering how they ended up at Molly Bloom’s in the first place and where they would be headed, while I munched on my phony Greek salad. The memory of the 13 cute fluffy baby chicks and the warm spring sun warmed me as I headed back to the artificial realism of my corporate office. It was a welcome break from responsibility and a fun distraction that rejuvenated my faith in the power of nature to inspire.