The Unexpected Joy of Unfamiliarity
Gents Cafe, Issue 123
There is a daunting note of the unknown that I had become somewhat afraid of, which divided my mindset into a few different ways. Complacency was a thing that I was not going to let drive my 20s.
They say the “Big OE” [The Big Overseas Experience] is a once in a lifetime event. It took a bit of back and forth with myself, as I was contemplating the depths of love and compounding curiosity—was the so-called “normal” enough, or did I want more?
As it turned out, I was unknowingly chasing the urge to become familiar with previously unfamiliar spots, one being the London suburb of Chelsea.
Truth be told, I have a long spiritual partnership with SW3: it was my grandfather Ted’s stomping ground. Of course, it is a lot different nowadays from what it was in the Thirties and Forties, but there is something beneath the luxury that calls to me and delivers the feeling of traverse—so let’s explore.
One thing to note: he lived a long and luscious 95 years. And during his service at the beginning of the year, my uncle Peter spoke fluently about Ted’s time within the area, and what it was really like for him and his brothers across the wartime Forties—the mention of not having a lot, of sharing almost everything from clothing and food to schoolbags, and of sitting on small seats (nothing more than upside-down buckets) in their tin-sheltered bunkers, from which they would watch the dogfights between the German and RAF fighter planes unfolding above their youthful eyes by night.
And here I am, some 80 years later, navigating the tight suburban streets. It didn’t take long to start becoming familiar—the suburb was a short walk across the river from my old flat, after all—and yet I wasn’t aware of such a feeling for so long, so far from my physical home.
There’s the local coffee spot called Hagen on Kings Road, not far from a boutique bookstore where you would find the folk in hand; you have the people of Kings Road hanging about the Cadogan Arms as sunset comes; you are surrounded by astonishing streets with hidden gardens, neighbourhood pubs, and more classic cars than I have ever seen before me.
And just like that, I found my place.
How I became comfortable with feeling at home in an area that is so far removed from where I am actually from is beyond me; but the place helped shape many decisions of my life. It taught me a lot about who I am, where I am really from, and what I want to accomplish before me—with gracious thanks to the feeling of finding joy in unfamiliarity.
