Days One & Two: “Tourists don’t go to Wembley!!”

Shortly after The IP’s arrival at the trashy foreign arrivals terminal at Heathrow, he got his first dose of British “charm” in the form of a terribly rude customs agent who demanded to know why he was spending his first nights adjacent to the cavernous Wembley Stadium in the NW London borough of Brent.  The reason was simply that my traveling partner, who was arriving the next evening, had made reservations at an affordable hotel; it was just a starting point and a place to stay.  But the goonish British
customs woman just could not believe The IP.  “Why are you going to
Wembley??  Let me see your hotel reservation!  Tourists don’t go to
Wembley!”  Then she turned to her colleague one desk over and said “He says he’s going to Wembley!  Why would he go to Wembley?”

This treatment not only made The IP have misgivings for having ever decided to go to London, it made him wonder why Wembley was held in such low regard by the British customs woman.  Was he going to be jumped and rolled outside of Wembley Stadium?  Was Brent one of those places they list as “Places NOT to see” in the guidebooks?  WTF?

After a long-but-pleasant ride on The Tube, The IP finally climbed up the
Wembley Central station stairs and onto the streets of the seemingly
questionable borough of Brent, home to The New Wembley Stadium.

As The IP made his way to his hotel, he was struck by the almost complete
lack (except of himself) of any Caucasian people.  Almost everyone seemed
to be from the Indian subcontinent or Africa, and all the stores and restaurants confirmed this observation.  And when he entered his hotel and saw a bunch of guys watching a cricket match from Bangladesh on the wide screen TV in the lobby, he understood what Brent was all about.

The hustle and bustle of Brent’s main drag was punctuated by odors of
exotic spices wafting out of little food shops and restaurants.  If
tourists were not supposed to go to this area, it was hard for The IP to
understand why.  Brent had an undeniable vibrancy about it, and all the
brown people made me feel like I was in a foreign country.  As it turns
out, that is exactly why some Brits, like that woman at Heathrow, questioned
my destination.

In The IP’s guidebook, he would actually tell the reader to visit Brent, to
get a good dose of the new, post-colonial Britain.  This is the Britain
where immigrants from all the countries it colonized flood the city and set
up shop for themselves.  If today’s Brits gripe, they should read some
history and put it all into context.  Besides, after a big and cheap dosa,
they might just change their tune.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dosa

OK.  On to some pics and observations from Brent:

Most pithecanththropes have heard that London Town is a rainy place, but The IP did not expect bangs of thunder and hail on his first day there.  The above pic was taken from his hotel room just after such a storm.  Check out The “New” Wembley stadium with its big suspension arch…

The “Old” Wembley still evokes great memories for a lot of Londoners, mostly for epic soccer games and epic rock concerts.  It’s twin towers became iconic…all gone.

 The “New” Wembley has a roof that moves back and forth depending on the weather, much like the one in Seattle.  The arch is the key to supporting the moveable roof. 

Above are The IP’s short-term buddies and inteviewees.  They were so honest, open, and friendly, The IP almost cried…  Here is the “diversity” that no Benneton ad can really capture…How else would they pose so naturally?  You know what’s so funny?  The IP asked them what they most wanted for Brent.  They said “Better football fields.” 

 The above pic does not really capture the hustle and bustle of Brent, but it will do.  To think this place is miles from the traditional “center” of London is amazing…

The bourough of Brent is an amalgam of immigrants…check out that sign…  “Afro Caribbean, Middle Eastern, Asian…”  WTF?

Walk a couple of blocks and you think you are in some stereotype of the classic London suburb…  note the looming arch of Wembley…

For the two days The IP was in Brent, he could not figure out the popularity of chicken joints…they’re everywhere, regardless if they really know about Tennessee.

 OK.  The IP will be back with more London adventure and an update on the bowling-ball landscape project…stay tuned.