The English writer Samuel Johnson famously said, “You find no man who is willing to leave London. No, sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life, for there is in London all that life can afford.” More than two centuries have passed since Johnson's age, but his words still ring true. Here, you'll find the historic Tower of London and the Tate Modern both considered must-sees. Shakespeare's sonnets（十四行诗） are still being uttered by actors. Londoners most certainly still look up to the royals, but they also rock out to Coldplay and Lily Allen. And while they still sip tea, they now drink Starbucks, too.

How to Save Money in London

    Find the free attractions. Many of London's top things to do, including the National Gallery, Hyde Park and the Portobello Road Market, are absolutely free to enjoy.

    Ride the Tube. Taking taxis will add up quickly, so buy a pay-as-you-go Oyster Card and travel on London's underground system, nicknamed the “Tube”.

    Dine smart. Corridors like Brick Lane offer fantastic cultural food for bargain prices; fish and chip shops are a cheap standby and takeaway food costs less than dine-in.

London Culture & Customs

    London is one of the fashion capitals of the world, and its residents tend to reflect that. Practically, pack an umbrella for the rainy days and a scarf for the cold ones. As for tipping, restaurants and cafes will usually add a 10-to-15-percent service charge to the bill. If a service charge is not allotted（指定）, it's customary to tip the same (between 10 and 15 percent). If you're drinking at a pub or wine bar, tipping is flexible. And in a taxicab, tip the driver to the nearest pound or about 10 percent of the cost.

London Dining

    London used to be highly criticized for its heavy and common menu items. Now, London is considered as one of the most gourmet cities in the world. And with its melting pot of cultures, it's not difficult to see why. London offers everything from modern British to Malaysian. For Indian food, we suggest visiting the curry houses on Brick Lane. If you want a real high tea experience, book reservations at the Ritz, at Fortnum & Mason, or at the Dorchester — but be sure to dress the part. Pub culture is still alive and well, so if you have a hankering for fried fish and salty chips (or French fries), you'll still find them here. And for a quick bite, exchange a few pounds for a kebab, a quick sandwich or some to go sushi, which can be found in restaurants throughout the city.

    My husband and I had been married nearly twenty-two years when I acquired Stevens-Johnson syndrome,a disorder where my immune system responded to a virus by producing painful blisters（水疱）.Although my long-term evaluation was good,I,who had been so fiercely independent,rapidly became absolutely helpless.

    My husband,Scott,stepped up to the plate,taking care of kids and cooking dinners.He also became my personal caretaker,applying the medicine to all of my blisters because my hands couldn't do the job.Needless to say,I had negative emotions,bouncing from embarrassment to shame caused by total reliance on someone other than myself.

    At one point when I had mentally and physically hit bottoms I remember thinking that Scott must somehow love me more than I could ever love him.With my illness he had become the stronger one,and I the weaker one.And this disturbed me.

    I recovered from my illness,but I couldn't seem to recover from the thought that I loved my husband less than he loved me.This seeming distinction in our love continued to annoy me for the year following my illness.

    Then recently Scott and I went on a long bike ride.He's an experienced cyclist;I'm quite the green hand.At one point with a strong headwind and sharp pain building in my tired legs,I really thought I couldn't go any further. Seeing me struggle,Scott pulled in front of me and yelled over his shoulder,"Stay close behind me."As I fell into the draft of his six-foot-three-inch frame and followed his steps,I discovered that my legs quit burning and I was able to catch my breath.My husband was pulling me along again.At this very moment I woke up to what I now believe: during these and other tough times,love has the opportunity to become stronger when one partner learns to lean on the other.

    I pray my husband will always be strong and healthy.But if he should ever become the struggling one,whether on a bike ride or with an illness,I trust I'll be ready to call out to him: Stay close behind me—my turn to pull you along.

    One day when I was 12, my mother gave me an order: I was to walk to the public library, and borrow at least one book for the summer. This was one more weapon for her to defeat my strange problem — inability to read.

    In the library, I found my way into the “Children's Room.” I sat down on the floor and pulled a few books off the shelf at random. The cover of a book caught my eye. It presented a picture of a beagle. I had recently had a beagle, the first and only animal companion I ever had as a child. He was my secret sharer, but one morning, he was gone, given away to someone who had the space and the money to care for him. I never forgot my beagle.

    There on the book's cover was a beagle which looked identical（相同的）to my dog. I ran my fingers over the picture of the dog on the cover. My eyes ran across the title, Amos, the Beagle with a Plan. Unknowingly, I had read the title. Without opening the book, I borrowed it from the library for the summer.

Under the shade of a bush, I started to read about Amos. I read very, very slowly with difficulty. Though pages were turned slowly, I got the main idea of the story about a dog who, like mine, had been separated from his family and who finally found his way back home. That dog was my dog, and I was the little boy in the book. At the end of the story, my mind continued the final scene of reunion, on and on, until my own lost dog and I were, in my mind, running together.

    My mother's call returned me to the real world. I suddenly realized something: I had read a book, and I had loved reading that book. Everyone knew I could not read. But I had read it. Books could be incredibly wonderful and I was going to read them.

    I never told my mother about my “miraculous” (奇迹般地) experience that summer, but she saw a slow but remarkable improvement in my classroom performance during the next year. And years later, she was proud that her son had read thousands of books, was awarded a PhD in literature, and authored his own books, articles, poetry and fiction. The power of the words has held.

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On October 13, a small plane flying to Chile accidentally crashed into a mountain in the Andes. How some of the passengers 1 to live is one of the greatest survival stories ever told. 

The survivors stayed inside the remains of the plane, using seat covers for blankets, and waited for a 2 that never came. Days turned into weeks. It was urgent to find a way to 3 . Three of the passengers—Canessa, Parrado, and Vizintin volunteered to 4 through the mountains to search for help. When they left, each man wore5 clothes: three pairs of socks, a plastic bag around each foot to keep the water out, boots, four pairs of trousers and four sweaters. Many of the clothes came from those who died in the crash. The three men 6 that they would survive and bring back help. 

For part of the first day, they were glad to make some 7 . But as the land and weather changed, climbing became 8 . After several days, they reached what they thought was the top. They had imagined this moment for days. On the other side of the top, they hoped, would be a valley leading down and out of the mountains. However, they saw the same snow-covered tops. All hope wasn't 9 . Although they were still in the middle of the mountains, Parrado 10 two low tops far away that didn't have snow. If they got there, they would be out of the Andes. 

Within the following days, they walked towards the two low tops. Little by little, the landscape began to change. Snow 11 completely, and flowers were everywhere. "This is the valley," Canessa said. "This is the way out." Then things of humanity started to appear—a few cans on the ground, some farm animals in a field. By December 21, the extremely

12 men made it to the town of Los Maitenes, and a rescue team was sent immediately to search for the survivors who were still high in the Andes. 

Finally all of the remaining survivors were 13 . The memories of the crash in the Andes would be with them forever, but for now, their terrible 14 was over. They had made it out—15 . 

Grainne lived alone. My morning routine 1 with her daily walks to and from her gates, and we began having 2 there.

She was an easy conversationalists, with a good habit of focusing 3 on me as we talked. She told me she was 87, and she was surprised I was only 26. I found myself 4 her things I hadn't necessarily told anyone. "I have never felt at home anywhere, I'm traveling to find out where I 5 ." I told her.

We both looked forward to my daily 6 . However, as our friendship grew, my beloved grandfather was seriously ill. I 7 to go back to India soon.

The day before I left Dublin, I went to say goodbye to Grainne. We both knew we were likely talking to each other in person for the 8 time.

Shortly after my return to India, my grandfather 9 . I emailed Grainne telling her "I lost the only person who made me feel less 10 ." Grainne wrote back, an email full of 11 . She said: "I hope you understand you don't fit into places. You fit into 12 . You will always fit where you have people to fit with."

Although I was never able to 13 Grainne again, my friendship with her continued through emails. It was one of the most 14 friendship I've ever known. I was 26 and alone in a foreign country, and she was 87 and alone in her own home. Together we made the world 15 again.