It was late in the afternoon, approaching four, when we arrived at Camden via the tube, and re-emerged into the sultry summer heat. Our return train wasn't until 8.43pm so we figured we had plenty of time to explore.
The first eye-popping moment came minutes after our stroll began, when we spotted a row of shops with extravagant over-sized decorations adorning the wall above their entrance. A giant shoe, a spread-eagled scantily clad woman, a red-eyed dragon crawling down the building. I was disappointed only by my inability to capture a good shot on my camera phone that did them any degree of justice. These epic, gargantuan creations were a marvel to behold and were unlike anything I had seen before.
Dragging our eyes away from these artistic behemoths, we forged on, until we reached an area declaring itself to be The Camden Market. So this was the world famous market? Fine, we thought, and ambled in to the tarpaulin covered lanes, very reminiscent of a trip to a sweltering covered market in Thailand, reinforcing that sense of a holiday abroad once again. But our eagerness soon ebbed into disappointment as all we found in every lane were T-shirts and hoodies.
This couldn't be it, surely? We quickly found our way out, and I suggested there was undoubtedly more because I had read about Camden Lock, which we had yet to reach.
More ornately adorned shop fronts caught our attention as we made our way in the hope there was more to come. At last I spotted a bridge, and beyond, a large graffiti sign declaring itself to be Camden Lock. Now we were getting somewhere!
A pit-stop drink was required, and it took no time to find the ideal place for fold on a KSFL lifestyle, offering as it did, every type of alternative milk possible, vegan friendly food, and raw snacks! Suitably refreshed we made our way towards the lock.
We were never seen again...
Seriously, it quickly felt like we had just tumbled into the rabbit hole, or shouted open sesame to Aladdin's cave. Jewelry stalls, art stalls, candle stalls, gifts, knick-knacks, and so much more, one after another, after another, after another.
Bubble tea, Korean, Thai, Chinese, Japanese, burgers, tapas, even breakfast cereal! The food and drink variety was so great you could probably visit every day for a year and eat something different.
At first it seemed like we could do the whole market it in an hour, as we buzzed from one stall to another. Adorable wife would linger over some silver jewellery, I would be captivated by posters, movie art work.
But it soon dawned upon us that we had barely scratched the surface, as we entered another section called the Stables Market, each shop inhabiting a nook that presumably once housed horses, down a long, seemingly endless passage. These weren't small box shops either, they vanished into the distance, the initial length impossible to judge from the path. Each and every one was a mini Aladdin's cave in itself. One would be a dark cavern of mystery, beckoning you in, the next would be a bright wide and white, Apple store style.
Down this wonderland we found ourselves drawn to an Indian store that had a wide variety of singing bowls on display. Our failed attempts to draw a pleasant sound from them soon attracted the friendly woman running the shop, who soon showed us how the experts do it. The small copper bowl did indeed sing beautifully in her hand as she gently swirled the wooden tong around with sensitive ease.
There was no turning back now, we were in love, and perhaps the spiritual purpose of our journey, outside of the need to re-new a passport, had been revealed. We listened to a large bowl hum with a vibrant bass, reaching into our soul. But we had to choose a bowl that spoke to us. We didn't want to commit to one of the bigger ones immediately, feeling such beauty needed to be earned. Instead we instinctively both picked the original bowl we had played with. With a technique to try, we both found we were able to extract a song. What it is impossible to get across in words and images is the sheer volume these things can reach. Both the higher pitched smaller bowls and the larger bass one could confidently drown out the music and general murmur of the passing crowds.
Peace could be achieved amidst the buzz of bohemian London!
Adorable wife wanted a cushion seat for the bowl, to complete the appropriate vibe, and again we were directed to let our instincts guide us. This led us both to agree on a sweet blue pattern.
The bowl quickly gained pride of place in our main living space, complimented by a large Buddha head, both of which welcome us upon our return home. The ring of the bowl when tapped is also a sound that releases the soul, there is something so pitch perfect about it that makes your heart sing along. And any moment in need of some calm, or a reset of inner balance, can quickly be achieved by making it truly sing!
Our spiritual journey complete, practical matters took hold and we needed to find a place to eat. The late hour we had arrived started to count against us, as many stalls we had eyed on the way in were already closed. In the end, as we had planned before we'd seen the sheer wealth of food available in the market, we returned to the vegan café by the lock.
Bidding farewell to the market, many corners still unseen, including the antique quarter, we wound our way through the lanes and streets, still finding eye-candy at every turn.
Ruminating upon our day, weary but thrilled and fulfilled, we ate with gusto, before making our way back to Marylebone Station, back to home, back to reality.
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