Media wonks often report that Londoners have stoically moved on since the attacks; hence, "we have overcome" the terrorists' intent. This may be true, but the damage imposed by the bombs has still crippled the London Underground. More than 3/4 of the platforms in King's Cross Underground station are out of service. The Circle Line, where two of the attacks were held, is completely closed. Due to ongoing forensics, the Picadilly Line is mostly out of commission. And an enhanced security awareness(Java link) has caused severe delays throughout the Underground network.

Even so, unfazed, I swore that I would take the Tube today. Thus, I hiked the 750 m to the nearest functional Underground Station (Euston), and descended to the Northern Line.

The Northern Line is a "deep level" line, like the Picadilly. The Picadilly Line sufferred the worst of the attacks because of its narrow tunnel structure, and because it is so deep in the ground (20 m below surface level). Now, while the Northern Line isn't as deep, there are still a fair number of long escalator rides downward. You can't help but feel a little uneasy as you stand on the long escalator, descending to a possible doom.

As I found a place to stand on-board, I was surprised that there were so many people on the train. Most Underground trains have a maximum capacity of above 1000 passengers, with between 200-300 seats. There were clearly very few available seats in my carriage -- thus, there were at least a few hundred people onboard. That actually surprised me. I guess that part of this was the legendary stoicism of Londoners -- "it's time to move on" and all that. And, I suppose that having a good chunk of your network down increases the utilization rates of the remaining trains. But still, it was a little strange to see.

While we were five days after the blasts, the tension in the train was still high. I still don't know why, but I started to glance around the carriage for emergency exits, alarm buttons, and any unattended bags. I noticed a few other passengers with similar eye movements. It was very unsettling -- particularly since it's now claimed that the terrorists were suicide bombers. It is thus unlikely that there were any unattended packages on any of the trains on 7/7. Nonetheless, it was unnerving.

As the train reached Warren Street, a wave of passengers swarmed on-board. The carriage was now packed. As we weaved between elbows and around legs, we all searched for an appropriate place to stand in the train. Arms reached for an available hand-rail, and the charade of poking and bumping was the norm. There were a lot of people on this train. Ah, back to the good ol' days.

But that didn't change the tension. If anything, people's nervousness increased. There was a woman a few inches away from me discussing her feelings on this very matter. "I find it more agitated when there are more people onboard, 'cause I can no longer be aware of others," she remarked.

Anyway, the train reached Charing Cross, and I alighted. As I rode the escalator to the surface, I breathed a sigh of relief, and smiled to myself. I shouldn't have worried so much. I'm not afraid to ride the Tube. And I'm emboldened to do it again.

Understandably, everyone is still talking about the attacks. Whether it's at the coffee house, in the department store, or on a bus, Londoners are talking about their feelings, speculating on theories, and describing their thoughts. The subject even came up during my job interview.

And London is still moving. Traffic is still flowing (well, okay, in London, it's still "crawling"), people are still milling about, and tourists are still crammed around the cheesy sites.

But there's nonetheless a subdued atmosphere. Police officers are still combing the parks and streets around Tavistock Square, where the bus was hit. It's impossible to see the area now -- the entire scene is surrounded by a 5 metre-high fence, and reporters are pushed to an area 200 metres away -- but it's unsettling that here we are, a stone's throw away from Death.

There are posters of missing passengers plastered all around King's Cross Station. In addition, over the past five days, individuals laid out many memorials and floral tributes to the victims. The station operators and London Metropolitan Police finally got their act together, and moved all these flowers and thoughts to an outdoor patio beside the station. It's a small space, no larger than many living rooms, and it's full of flowers, poems, and thoughts. The Memorial Garden is certainly a moving sight.

As I wandered around the garden, past the mounds of floral bouquets, I mused about the randomness of these attacks, and the unpredictability of human life. Londoners are a strong, resilient bunch. You can't let a few evil scumbags control your life. You pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and move on.

Is London normal? Sure -- but it's as "normal" as it can ever be after such a sad event.

(This is part 2 of a 2-part series on the London attacks. Part 1 was posted previously.)