Nothing is awesome in London. Use that term and you will literally hear people’s eyes roll. Objects, ideas, situations, people, events and a broad assortment of other spontaneous delights or bits of quickly recognised genius are frequently proclaimed, brilliant or massive.

“That is a massive opportunity.” Or simply, “It’s massive.”

“That is a brilliant scarf, darling.” And, “She is absolutely brilliant.”

But I will argue that London itself is awesome. In pieces and on the whole, this city never ceases to amaze. Gazing down at the river, out across the rooftops and toward a countryside you can envision but can’t see, you could be held in place for hours. Back at street-level, ambling across the pavement, it would be a disservice if your head was not on a swivel because there is always something worth noticing even if you’re unsure of the precise import.

So many scars from World War II, often in the form of church towers with no accompanying church. Plenty to give pause and inspire thoughts of what it must have been like to have hell rained down on you, your home and community. Uncertainty amidst the beauty and ruin. But always a sense of enduring importance–an undisturbed timelessness.

Londoners probably don’t consciously think about the wonders of their surroundings as frequently as a visitor, but it still must happen on a pretty regular basis. Yes, even amidst the detritus and decay of a bustling urban centre where people and pigeons commingle, you should occasionally be a tourist. Look up at the more modern buildings (if you can escape the Shard’s watchful peak, you are sneakier than I am). Look down the river at the Tower Bridge. Stop and read the plaques.

If you are not frequently struck with wonder in this city, you have no sense of it.