A RECIPE FOR DISASTER?

One of the most stupid things you can do as a woman traveling alone in a foreign country is go on a Hinge date with a random man. It seems like a recipe for disaster. There’s no good reason as to why I agreed to the date; he was cute, but there was seemingly nothing special about him. I knew the night would not turn into an epic travel love story. My reasoning was mainly for spontaneity’s sake, to push myself outside of my comfort zone and see a new neighborhood in London with a guy who appeared eager to show me around. As I rode the underground towards my date, I feared I was making a grave mistake. 

The bar we met at had live karaoke and I was greeted by the bellows of drunk patrons as they took the stage to shout song after song. I loved it. But it was hard to hear my date, so while I appreciated his original choice in venue, we quickly moved on. He showed me the nearby canal, guiding us to the top of a stone amphitheater where outdoor movies were shown. The bottom row of the theater was claimed by Geese and a few ducks. We wandered on, passing a set of small fountains arranged in rows near the path and eventually settled at a large table near a different bar. Our humors complemented each other and any sense of alarm I had when I originally agreed to meet slowly subsided. So when he suggested we take the underground to Camden Town, I agreed. I had no clue where Camden Town was or what it held. 

Camden Town, although slightly dingy, was lively and brimming with music. From venues boasting ‘Live Blues’ to dive bars playing Bat Mitzvah classics, we got a bit of it all. We hopped from bar to bar as my date told me about the musical history of Camden Town mixed with stories from his childhood. One spot was a historic gay bar known to play ABBA and Queen, and it was also where he and his secondary school buddies frequently blacked out growing up. Another spot was frequented by Adelle and Harry Styles when they were both emerging artists. We walked Camden Town’s version of the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and he took me to the Amy Winehouse statue after discovering my love for her. We danced to everything, from Rock and Roll to some British anthems I couldn’t make out the words to. Before I knew it, it was three in the morning and the bars began to close. 

While that night was a casual bar crawl, hopping from one grimy bar to the next, it existed as a limbo of personal and city history. A night where a stranger and I came together to experience the city together, I  through his familiar perspective and he through my new eyes. That night was ours to explore and share, dance and drink, kiss and wander. No tourist attraction or museum plaque  could ever compare. 

While we had discussed another outing together to explore Primrose Hill, I never saw him again. I prefer it that way. We existed in the same space and time for one evening, exchanging our stories and drastically different experiences. So, while Hinge dates aren’t always the best idea while traveling alone, they might prove to be the best tour you never knew you were looking for.