If you appreciate the masterpiece Harry Potter is, it is demanded to take a trip to London. London is basically a playground for fans, as its filled with collectible HP items as well as actual, existing filming spots. Funny enough, Southwark owns only 1 filming spot, the Leaky Cauldron (if you know you know) but it doesn’t need more than that to be the absolute Potter-place. Being the oldest part of South-London means yellow-brown bricks, creating thick, brick buildings with low, neglected roofs and many more, softly smoking chimneys. It means small alleys, rather than streets, made out of hobbly-wobbly pavements. And that, is Southbank. My absolute top-spot of the city that I basically danced my way too when I had a moment to myself. This hidden away, humble neighborhood lies by the side of the river, hardly stretching over, connected to the modern part of the city by means of a modern white bridge, yet its quite its own world. It’s like time travelling, for Southbank is only alleys and bricks. it welcomes you with the beautiful Anchor bank-side pub that has existed for a century already. Walk a little further and whether its your harry potter heart or your history heart, your architectural heart or your mystery heart, this beautiful alley is an eye-catcher for all. Clink streets which, let the history hearts beat, states from 1151. Named after a prison that no longer, but certainly for a while, was worlds most notorious medieval prison. I liked how the sign stated ‘voted by the people’ as if the prisoners had been offered a nice deal in exchange for this review. The alley already serves like some sort of prison due to its seize, and the tall, yellow bricked buildings standing by, its dark windows hiding the souls of its foregone prisoners.
Basically the entire neighborhood is a beautiful collection of these yellowbricks, all windows so dark it was impossible to figure out their purpose. But somehow it felt like they all had a dark history and as if this neighborhood didn’t want to move on. Cracks on the bricks, weeds trough pavement, shattered shards in windows. It was incredible how in the heart of this thriving city, the old England was preserved. If any stores were found, they were small, authentic. If any restaurants showed, they were humble, and dark. If any cars drove, it was carefully, just passing through. And then there it was, the Leaky Cauldron. Although in real life it is an optician (maps towards Bulls Head Passage, you’re welcome), the small, slightly gruesome looking building, is still there. And the little bridge above from where Harry overlooks the tracks, is there too. I am probably going to keep making Harry Potter references for as long as I’m here, I smiled to myself. And there, hardly a meter away from the opticians entrance, is another place fighting to be my absolute number 1. Or maybe just the number 1 market, which already is a massive honor: Borough market. The place where all food isn’t just sold, but celebrated. This beautiful market hall, hiding below the high, cosy glass ceiling, is an immediate explosion of smells and sounds. It’s the heaven of fresh products and the safe haven of happy salesmen with very impressively loud voices. Open your eyes, and enjoy the colors. Open your ears, and hear the food making people laugh. Open your nose (that doesn’t sound beautiful) and smell fish, cheese, meat, bread, vegetables, fruit (that doesn’t really smell like much) and the smoke created above, as a final product of the fresh foods below.
I enjoyed buying fresh raspberries from the kind man on the corner, after which I passed by some cosy corner coffee bars. The streets were beautiful, it was the exact image that pops up in the mind when thinking of earlier England. Yellow, or grey, grey now entered too, brick buildings with dairy stores, coffee bars or bakeries. The chimneys almost fell onto the grey pavement, as I found my way to a brick wall, staring over the dark Thames. The February sun was a pleasant treat, and as I walked trough small, quiet streets where the houses had no yards, but beautiful stairways with old metal porches. Where they had not one big window, but around 8 tiny ones. And again, just one chimney never fulfills. I now soon crossed the old (brick) busy bridge from Southbank to the City of London. That’s slightly confusing, but the city of London is actually a district. It’s the New York of England, the financial, visibly beating heart of the city. This city has the most impressive skyscrapers, those always stealing the show at the skyline. But before I go there, as in literally before I went there, I had to visit an amazing harry potter hotspot that is also impressive for, again, architectural lovers, history lovers, store lovers, market lovers, and definitely for harry potter lovers. Leadenhall market was used to inspire and shoot Diagon alley, and it exists of a beautiful old paved pathway leading into an indoor market hall. It has a very sophisticated taste in in boutiques, variating from fancy pens to fancy pants. Its true pride to me, comes from the ceiling, which is made out of colored glass, illuminated by hundreds of small, golden lights. The walls supporting the ceiling seem to be made of gold, with red pillars supporting it and green doors forming the porch-way into the boutiques that were hardly bigger than a cupboard.
Having left this golden era, you automatically enter the financial, glass heart of the city which for some annoying reason I remember as ‘the battery’. I think that’s new York but, It doesn’t really matter because this place is the battery of the city. This is where the big decisions are made that can affect the whole world. The important people in the expensive suit go up and down with that terrifying elevator you truly need to witness once. It’s basically the one from Charly and the Chocolate factory. A glass tube on the outside of the building, shooting its passengers up or dropping them down with a terrifying speed. The buildings are basically identical to those in the actual battery in New York, it’s basically the Wallstreet of London. It has beautiful glass art, pointy skyscrapers or Dubai-alike, metal towers. The most famous of them is probably our, lets be straight forward, Dildo building. This glass building is just best described as a massive dildo, although its true name is fancier; the Gherkin. And, fun fact, the meaning of that is actually ‘the pickle’. But come on, google it now and vote for either dildo or pickle, I think it’s quite undeniable. No offense to the architect, because it’s a true piece of art, rising above some beautiful old Victorian alike premises surrounding the glass heart of the city. the streets are absolutely terrifying, as if getting used to the whole wrong-side-of-the-road thing wasn’t enough of an adjustment, they were too busy and the famous red buses were too tall, as if they’d fell over in any corner. The adorable globular black cabs, had plenty of work to do on this part of the city. having watched the elevator go up and down several times, having watched suited people with Starbucks and having chronically bended my neck from staring up, it was time to move on.
My last treat was hiding in central-London, where I was living, working, and thriving. It was an alley, 2 actually, that were actually used in harry potter, not even too much editing had been necessary because the alleys were JK Rowling’s honest inspiration for the movies, as she walked trough every day, on her way to her cleaning job. First of them was Cecil Court. This surprisingly wide, yet car-free alley, exists out of nothing but bookshops with the honest authentic wooden signs above them, with curly gold letters carved in. (stop reading now if you don’t like harry potter) I could see it already, the black capes of the wizards disappearing behind the brick corners. I could see the owls behind the windows, the broomsticks against the walls. Now, my last treat for the day awaited: Goodwin’s Court. This actually extremely small alley is surprisingly well hidden and amazingly bad marketed. Therefore, once you find your way behind the containers, you have the alley to yourself at most times. Its grey and small, and it hidden from the world by means of high, thick, grey brick buildings with mysteriously dark tiny windows that for some reason were popping out of the bricks, yet strictly hiding the insides by means of spooky white curtains. The walls were covered in ivy and supported by small black lanterns, burning so vaguely it looked like a flame. One side of the alley was a dark grey gloom, and the other side a fifty shades of brown. There was something very gloomy about it, but the fact that a genius woman once saw the beauty of this mysterious place and turned it into art, turned it into pure magic for me.
- It's an amazing life
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