On my 4th trip to London, I had a specific attraction on top of my list of sites to visit. So on the day of our visit around London’s Tower Bridge area, I had planned my route as we got off at “Blackfriars” tube station. While the others went to their own spots, I headed to the Tate Modern. You have to differentiate this place from Tate Britain—the Britain is all “classic” museum vibes, but the Modern is a beast. It’s an old power station made of millions of brown bricks with a massive chimney that looks like a middle finger to the London skyline.
I didn’t bother with a ticket. I stuck to the free exhibits because that’s where the building’s soul is. I walked down the concrete ramp into the Turbine Hall. It’s just a giant, hollowed-out canyon of grey. No art on the walls, just massive scale and echoes. It feels industrial and cold, like the ghosts of the old machines are still in the walls.
The Radio Tower and the Red Room
I found two rooms that stuck with me. First was Babel—a huge tower made of hundreds of old, crappy analogue radios stacked to the ceiling. They were all turned on, tuned to different stations, but kept at a low whisper. It was a weird, blue-lit room filled with global static. It felt like standing inside a giant, humming brain.
Then I went to the Rothko room. This place is the opposite of the radio room. It’s dark, and the walls are covered in massive, gloomy paintings of maroon and black. I sat on the bench in the middle for a long time. It isn’t “pretty” art; it’s heavy and depressing in a way that makes you just want to sit still and breathe.
Dusk, The Globe, and Pizza
Rashid, Simone, and Zak met me back at the Turbine Hall. We swapped stories and headed out into the London air. By then, it was dusk—grey, biting cold, and no sun. Typical London.
We walked along the South Bank toward the Globe Theatre. It’s a strange-looking building, all white plaster and dark wood, looking like a 16th-century relic dropped into a concrete world. We took some photos in the fading light, shivering as the damp cold started to soak through our clothes.
Hunger eventually won. We found a pizza place nearby and killed a few pies. Nothing beats hot cheese and crust when your hands are numb. We ate, warmed up, and then trudged back toward the station. The streets were wet and glowing with neon, marking the end of a long first day.
All Around The World 