One of the main reasons I came to London is to see if all of the rumors are true. It has been part of my cynical experience that a place never really exists until you’ve seen it yourself and England, a place where I’m told they drive on the left side of the road and have a period of the day reserved for drinking tea, just seemed too ridiculous to be real.After three days in London I can tell you in confidence that everything you’ve heard is true. This place is, in one word, British, in two words, extremely British.

Already I’ve seen the red double-decker buses and black taxi cabs (yes, driving on the left side of the road), I drank pints of beer at a pub with a funny name (The George & Vulture), I looked at an overly large clock called Big Ben even though I already knew what time it was, and I even had tea time with the Queen (or I should say, she had tea time with me).

Everyone here has a funny accent. I didn’t think it was true, really I thought it was too silly to be true, but it is. Londoners fully pronounce their t’s and add u’s to words like “color.” To top it all off, on my first day here it was cold and rainy. There is no doubt that London exists, and man, is it British.

In seriousness, being here has been an extraordinary experience for this American boy. The most impressionable aspect of my journey so far is the tangible history here. Old churches are scattered throughout the brick buildings that still house 200-year-old upholstery shops and pubs that declare “Brewers since 1666.” Everything here, it seems, is older than my country.

But London is not an old world city stuck in its bygone past. Impressive glass skyscrapers provide the backdrop for the historic buildings and postmodern architecture can be found in even the most established neighborhoods – a building sarcastically referred to as ‘The Gherkin’ in the financial district near Shoreditch looks more like a seashell than a cucumber to me. The aged towers of Parliament are only a stone’s throw from the 400-ft-tall London Eye Ferris wheel.

Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre sits above a graffiti-laden underpass next to the Thames River.

Having grown up in Charlotte where much of the history was paved over as the city gained banking prominence I am amazed by the living, breathing awareness of and appreciation for the past in London. The only proper comparison I can think of are the old buildings and churches of Boston, but even they are hundreds of years newer than some of the places here. And there’s Camden Market, a hipster haven of indie shops and cheap boutiques built into horse stables that date back to 1854.

In the midst of all this coexistent history and modernism is the London Underground, one of the oldest and most used public transportation systems in the world. London is place where plastic bags are becoming more scarce (and many places that do offer them charge 5 pence per) and paper towels in public restrooms are all but extinct in favor of more sustainable hand dryers, but recycling still hasn’t caught on in private residences or public establishments. The juxtapositions are intriguing.

I have much more to explore. There are ales to be drunk, fish & chips to be eaten, and lots of rugby to be watched (I landed my visit right in the middle of the 6 Nations tournament, the biggest stage for rugby in Europe). Last weekend I was in Manchester and by the time this reaches your hands I’ll be in Ireland, but I won’t soon forget the extraordinarily British times I’ve had in England’s soggy capital.

If you’re reading this, I’m missing you. Cheers, mates.