Pushing through hordes of sightseers it’s all too easy to swear about ‘bloody tourists’. All they do is stop and see and take selfies and get in the bloody way.
But actually, being a tourist is a wonderful thing. To be that person who is looking at things for the first time. To have the wonder of ‘child’s eyes’ as you ponder and peruse. And just to have the time to stop and stare. The world is different when you stop to look.
And so, having relatives over from Greece, I now have the chance to embrace my inner tourist.
Camden market was the first stop. Personally, I don’t see the attraction – it’s a market full of tat and a gazillion tourists. However, my visitors were in awe.
“Oh how magical,” they declared, their faces hanging in wonder.
I looked about me. All I could see (through the throngs of people) were a load of stalls with stuff for sale that you don’t need, don’t want and don’t even like.
“Oh it’s so wonderful!” they exclaimed again and turned to me with shiny eyes wet with excitement.
I looked again at the scene. And this time I tried to see what they could see. I took in the historic cobbled pavements, the stone archways, the bustling atmosphere, the riot of colours and smells overwhelming my senses, the jostle and busyness of the market – of life.
Yes, there were right. It was magical. It was wonderful. I just needed to wear the right pair of eyes.