Day 12: Snatch

  The Spanish woman behind me was crying, and I have to say I couldn't really blame her. I didn't understand a word her husband was speaking, but his tone was reproachful. The owner of the establishment broke away from his phone conversation saying loudly "The police are on their way!"

  The woman and her husband had entered the Greek restaraunt a few mintes after Steve, Greg, and I. The owner stepped foward to greet, then shut the door behind them. We rehashed the days events while she and her husband ordered. Another patron entered with music blaring so loud on his ipod that I looked up to see the young man recieve the same treatment as we and the Spanish couple had. The owner brusquely shutting the door behind the young man, and seating him after he requested a table for four.

  All that transpired after was related to me by Greg, who had a direct view of the events. The young man changed seats so that his back was to the couple, presumably so that he could look out the front window to check on the arrival of the rest of his party. After a few minutes of waiting he got up and left. The owner went to shut the door tight, and saw something that alarmed him. He turned to the Spanish pair and said loudly in his thick Greek accent, "You loose something? You loose bag?" The woman stared blankly at the empty seat next to her where her purse had been moments before.

  Now we sat and watched as the dark side of travel was revealed. I thought to myself this looks like a good time for a change of scene. Maybe Paris?

Day 11: Greenhouses

  Today Sylvia awoke with the cold I had finally rid myself of after three days. My thoughts cycled through sympathy and guilt. Today was going to be a nice day, and we had planned an excursion to the Royal Botanical Gardens at the Kew Palace grounds. I knew Sylvia wanted to go herself, but in the end it was just the three of us guys. I was determined to be her eyes on this day trip. "Take lots of pictures." she hoarsely requested, "I like close-up shots, and take some extra batteries." I did my best to deliver.

  One transfer and a thirty minute train ride later we arrived at Kew Gardens. The grounds are beautiful, but the true stars of Kew are the enormous greenhouses filled with plants brought back by English explorers through the ages. Specimens from all over the world fill the structures almost to bursting. Some plants have been there so long they tower above, scraping the domed ceiling. Tropical, temperate, and desert climates are all represented. Sometimes you might catch sight of some interesting fauna as well. An iridescent green iguana lurking by a pond, or brightly colored butterflies circling overhead.

  As you can imagine all that walking left us parched and hungry. Luckily we found a charming cafe by the station. I have to say The Kiwi Greenhouse served us one of the better meals we have had here. The delicious food came with a huge pot of tea. We dove in rolling our eyes and making sounds that were embarrassingly close to orgasmic moans. We tempted each other with tastes of our dishes. After we scraped our plates clean we each ordered a treat from the desert case that had been seducing us from across the room. Tired, but completely satiated, we boarded the return train with a camera full of pictures and bellies full of yummy goodness.

 

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Day 11 Photostream

Day 10: Gently Down The Stream

  The weather forecasts for England seem to be more of a guess than a prediction based in any kind of science, but because the weather was supposed to be fair we decided to spend as much of the day as we could outside. First stop Hyde Park where our dear friend Jenny specifically asked us to visit the Lady Diana Memorial. The place is enormous and after a rendezvous with Steve and Sylvia in front of Kensington Palace we lost them before we reached the memorial sight. Shoot! I was feeling so much better today and had a anxious feeling that my illness had burnt up a nice chunk of my vacation. We barreled on. Through the park we marched snapping photos, and taking in the sights. The Albert Memorial, the Queen's Temple, and the Peter Pan Statue. We walked along the Serpentine and paused to walk among the fountains of the Italian Garden. After a couple of tries to reach our travel companions, we made the decision to head to Little Venice for the last boat tour of London's Canal system.

 On the way we stopped by James Smith & Sons Ltd. a shop specializing in umbrellas and walking sticks. In operation since 1830, this shop carries not only factory made models but umbrellas made in the basement workshop downstairs. Greg and I found a Smith & Sons umbrella that doubles as a walking stick. A young salesman who was smaller than Greg (if you can believe it) and had wavy hair shot through with grey waited on us. He measured us to determine the correct height, and showed us the ins and outs of properly opening, closing, rolling, and storing their umbrellas. I think we may have found our English shopping splurge. A classic black bumbershoot hand made in London and oozing British civility. $$$

  On to the boat tour, but not before a nice panini at an old canal boat that had been converted into a cafe. With our stomachs full we boarded our vessel, Jason, for a forty-five minute drift through the heart of London. Colorfully painted boats rocked in their moorings along the waterway as we lazily made our way past restaurants and mansions. Through Regent's park and the London Zoo we floated. At one point catching sight of an elusive wild boar lurking in the bushes. Our little journey ended at Camden lock.

  After disembarking we grabbed a coffee and wandered the funky Camden market. Edgy young Londoners crowded the streets, and lounged in the ubiquitous tattoo parlors. The energy and spirit was invigorating, but it didn't take us long to figure out we were about twenty years too old for the scene. So back to our flat we retired.  

Day 10 Photostream

Day 9: Your Loving Arms

 Yesterday I was the queen of denial. I'm not really sick sick I told myself. I just have a little flu bug. Today my 'little' flu bug said "Oh no you didn't. You're my bitch now!" I literally slept all day; getting up only to imbibe hot flu medicine and shovel a little sustenance into my mouth. Around three o'clock I was finally feeling well enough to get up and shower. I joined Stylvia and Greg at our local pub the Sawyer's Arms for dinner.

  The Sawyer's Arms looks just like a pub should. Situated on a corner, one side has picnic tables lining the wall. After five these are always occupied with customers, others line the sidewalk finding a perch for their drinks on the wooden kegs placed on either side of the door, or the deep window ledges on the other side of the building. The bottom floor is strictly standing room only. So, if you are there for a meal like we were, you head upstairs where it's a little quieter and they have real tables. Unfortunately the bartenders upstairs are a couple of French women with thick accents, and the kitchen is in the basement. It is a struggle to get what you want, but the atmosphere and food make it worth the challenge.

  I was dying to try the beef and Ruddles Ale pie. The first time we ate at the pub I ordered the fish and chips, and spent the meal coveting the pies that Steve and Greg had ordered. The hearty beef pie came with carrots,  peas, mash, and a pitcher o' gravy. Yum. It was just what I needed. After dinner Steve tried to convince me the perfect aperitif would be a glass of hot whisky with lemon. He was convinced it would soothe my throat, and help me to sleep. The trouble was trying to explain what we wanted to the bartender. After five minutes of unproductive description, I decided I was just fine with pomegranate tea.

Day 8: Prime Meridian

  This morning the sun rose in a beautiful cloudless blue September sky. We all agreed it seemed a perfect day for a cruise up the Thames to Grenwich. After a good rest, and bolstered by the lemon flu medicine that Stylvia (Steve and Sylvia) had brought back the previous afternoon I was ready to get out into the day. As soon as I stepped outside I was glad I had dressed in layers. The cool autumn air nipped at my fingers and toes, and caused my nose to start dripping and burning. By the time we arrived at the river boat I had abandoned any thought of sitting on the upper deck to take pictures. The thought of exposing myself to the wind whipping down the river's surface seemed foolhardy. Maybe the clouds that had rolled in would dissapate before our return.

  By the time we arrived at Grenwich the clouds had formed a solid grey mantle that covered the sky from horizon to horizon. As Greg and I climbed the hill to survey the observatory the cool wind whipped across it's face. We toured the sight taking in the view, buildings, and planetarium. I looked through a spyglass with one foot on either side of the prime meridian. All the while sneezing at regular intervals. I sneezed as we walked back down the hill. I sneezed as we viewed the nautical paintings in the Queens House. I sneezed as we looked at the toy boat exhibition at the National Maritime Museum. Sniffle sniffle. Old Royal Naval College... ..Ah-choo..You get the drift.

  On the ride back I figured, What the hell? As long as I already feel bad I might as well get some good shots from the river. My fingers felt a little numb, my head a little thick as we docked, but I got some great shots. Some good Lebanese food, and some more lemon flu stuff (which I was begining to like a little too much) and I was off to bed.

Day 8 Photostream

Day 7: A Day of Rest

  It started as a tickle in the back of my throat yesterday. As I wandered the rooms of the National Gallery I tried to ignore the growing discomfort. It's just at\ little dry spot I told myself. I just need some hot tea. By this morning I couldn't deny it any longer: I have a cold.

  All I really wanted to do was lay around in my p.j.s all day, but the cleaning lady was coming, so we had to vacate the flat by nine o'clock. Greg and I trudged up and down Bond street until I figured she had finished, and then I headed back to the flat. There I spent the rest of the day napping and catching up on laundry.

Day 6: The Golden Apple

  Today was spent almost entirely in the National Gallery appreciating art, and listening to opera on my ipod. The beauty of these paintings can hardly be described in words. I only made it halfway through, and found myself spending most of my time in the 16th and 17th Century. It was interesting how popular particular subjects were. There were quite a few examples depicting the The Judgement of Paris, the story that inspired the name of my other blog, The Golden Apple. A note card by one of the pieces asserted that it was probably so popular because it gave the artist an opportunity to paint three female nudes......That seems a little creepy to me. I prefer to think they appreciated the myth and allegory.


 In this story from Greek mythology Zeus is preparing a wedding banquet for Peleus and Thetis and does not invite Eris. In revenge, she creates an apple of pure gold, inscribes it "To The Fairest," and rolls it into the hall during the banquet. Athena, Hera and Aphrodite each claims it, and Zeus orders that someone be found to settle the issue. Paris is chosen due to the virtue of being the handsomest man in the world. The result is a mythological beauty contest. Hera promises him greatness, Athena warlike prowess and Aphrodite the love of the most beautiful woman in the world. In the end Aphrodite gets the apple, Paris gets Helen, and the world gets the Trojan War and a line of condoms.

  By the end of the day I rushed through the rest of the gallery, but was stopped in my tracks by a rendering of the execution of Lady Jane Grey. She reluctantly became queen of England and ruled for nine days before being executed at the age of seventeen by supporters of Queen Mary. It was enormous, and depicted a tragic event with luminous beauty. Wow.

 

Day 6 Photostream

Day 5: A River Runs Through It

  The Thames winds it's way through the heart of London. This amazing city would not exist but for the life's blood of commerce it has provided. To honor its importance, the Mayor holds a celebration on the banks each November. A fair with crafts, food, and live music that is popular and well attended by tourists and locals alike. Into this swirling eddy of humanity we threw ourselves today.

  Any imagined renaissance-style street fair quickly faded from my mind as I realised these things are pretty much the same the world over. The Thames River Festival felt a lot like a street fair in Bellingham minus the faint smell of patchouli, and people hippy dancing to the line music. What Bellingham doesn't have is the amazing sites of Tower Bridge, Big Ben, and the London Eye. All of which I tried to soak in while negotiating the crowd, and avoiding the baby strollers that seemed to be constantly running over my toes and scraping my heels.

  The mothers that operated the little vehicles seemed perfectly comfortable with using them as battering rams to clear a path through the crowd. But why me? Perhaps they were just choosing what they thought was the path of least resistance. I have a friendly face, and they assumed (correctly) that I wouldn't make a fuss. They were women with helpless children, for goodness sake, who would make a scene over a little barked shin? My sister seemed not to have a problem, but I suppose even in this lawless river of people the cane she used for her arthritis trumped their prams.

  We finally escaped the crush of the crowd, and I departed from my companions to spent the rest of the day wandering through the streets of Westminster, and down Strand Street on what Rick Steves calls the city walk. I strayed down side streets taking pictures, and exploring places that had whizzed by as we took our bus tour. Eventually I found myself back at Temple station looking once again at the river, before catching the tube back.

Day 5 Photostream

Day 4: Mind the Gap

  "Mind the gap."

  The warning that had become a familiar sound broke my reverie. I had been distracting myself by recounting the days events in my mind. Now that I had been so cruelly interrupted, however; I was all too aware of my surroundings. Even on a mild September evening the London tube felt like a boiler room. Sweat was trickling down my back, and I was sure my hair was sticking straight up like some deranged cockatoo. As I waited impatiently for the next train I returned to my musings.

  Sylvia and Steve had decided to stay home, and so it seemed the perfect opportunity for Greg and I to spend some quality time together. In short we got our shop on. First stop: Harrods, the shopping monolith. Yeah, you know it was way too expensive, but tons of super yummy designer clothes and shoes. We divined some trends right off the bat: fur, plaid, and old English hunting togs rebooted. We carefully made mental notes, and spent the rest of the day shopping on Regent's street for less pricey alternatives. We made a pact to pass any store that sold clothing we could get State-side. No Hilfiger, no Guess, and definitely no Gap. We didn't buy any thing that day, but you can bet our bags will be heavier when we return home.

  After returning to Paddington and conferring with our traveling companions we all went to dinner at The Gay Hussar, a Hungarian restaurant that has been in operation since 1953. It is a really small establishment with just enough room for a row of tables on either side of a runway for the waiter. On one side of the restaurant caricatures of famous politicians who have dined there hang above dark coffered wainscoting. On the other side mirrors reflect their images. It is a nice white tablecloth restaurant that serves the kind of delicious food my imaginary Hungarian grandmama used to make. Both Steve and I had the wild cherry soup as a starter and, as our eyes met, we both knew we were all in for a treat. Yummy dishes with flavors of dill and paprika. Can you tell I loved it? We will most likely return again before our holiday is over.

  After all that food Greg and I decided it would be nice to take a stroll around Soho. The evening in London's gay district had a Mardi Gras atmosphere. Music blared from overflowing clubs and pubs as we walked down streets filled with boozy British revelers. One venture inside a gay pub quickly convinced us that, even if we liked being packed into a bar like sardines, we would never get a drink. A short walk led us back to the tube station where the recorded announcement was once again reminding us to:

  "Mind the gap."

Day 4 Photostream

Day 3: Shutterbug

  Today was our first complete day in town, and we decided to take one of those guided bus tours. So, okay I know these things are really touristy, but we wanted to orient our selves to London. It turned out to be a perfect day for it; slightly overcast but not really cold or rainy. Sylvia and I each ran through two sets of batteries taking pictures. Here are a few of my favorites. Check out the rest at my Flickr Photo Stream

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Day 2: Into the Woods

                    Into the woods, and who can tell
                    What's waiting on the journey? 
                                                         -Stephen Sondheim

   We made it! We are now in London, and even before we made it through customs I could tell I was going to love it. I was surrounded by well-dressed men. This is a  thrill I have experienced before when visiting a large metropolitan area, but never on this scale. I'm not saying they were all handsome, but they all clearly understood how well-cut clothing and good grooming can maximize your assets. This trend continued through the airport, express train (try not to stare), and short walk to our flat in Paddington.

  We were met on the stoop by a young woman named Caroline who showed us our flat. The building has an lift straight out of Thoroughly Modern Millie with an old style grate you have to pull closed. A tour of our apartment revealed a space that had retained much of its historic character, but is nicely updated. The big dining room window looks out on a veiw of rooftops and chimney pots. Mary Poppins and Bert danced across a landscape very much like the one we enjoy over morning tea.

  After Caroline excused herself, Sylvia and I quickly showered so that we could make the one event we had scheduled for our vacation: one of the last performances of the musical Into the Woods at the Regent's Park Open Air Theater. We made good time, and had time to stroll the park a bit. It was a sunny, hot afternoon and we peeled off the layers of clothes we wore. We were very excited that the weather had turned out so wonderfully, considering we had taken a chance in purchasing the tickets a week before. You can imagine how crestfallen we were feeling when, before the beginning of the show, a rain shower blew in. Thankfully, much as in Bellingham, these things can end as soon as they begin. Soon the rain petered off, and the show went on. The play, which weaves many different fairy tales together, was wonderfully preformed on a set that was built right into the natural surroundings of the park. 

                                                                                             

  After the show, we stopped by a little Italian restaurant and picked up dinner for the guys who were waiting back at the apartment. It wasn't amazing food, but we were all ravenous. We gobbled it up, and retired for the first good night's sleep we've had since leaving Bellingham.

                                                                            The End

                                                                Day 2 Photostream

Day 1: Fail

  Light was not even tinging the horizon as I rolled over in the comfy bed. Incredibly high thread count sheets moved across my skin as I opened my eyes, and smiled at Greg. Suddenly, as my mind moved from slumber to it's waking state, a thought entered my mind. I am not in London.

  Our departure day had begun as planned. The whole party was in high spirits. We made great time on the shuttle, and whizzed through security. The concierge at British Airway's Terrace Lounge greeted us warmly, and we made ourselves comfortable on a couch. The space was tastefully decorated in grey and cobalt blue. Steve and Sylvia joined us, and cocktails were ordered. Our holiday was toasted. One martini was followed by another. Then, just before we should have begun boarding, the announcement was made. Due to mechanical difficulties with the hydraulics there would be a delay.

  This was the first of many announcements that seemed to be designed to annoy, and timed to irritate. Nerves became frayed, and we watched as people slowly unraveled in their own unique ways: pacing, drinking, grazing. We paced, drank, and grazed. Greg returned from a walk with a report that the traveler's in the coach area were even more agitated. Apparently the bottled water they had been offered was generally considered meager compensation for the inconvenience.

  Finally an announcement was made that our flight would not be leaving until the next day. Sylvia successfully negotiated the upset crowed that formed around the front desk to get us complementary rooms, and meal vouchers at the Hilton. Now, after a nights sleep we are sitting once again in the lounge waiting to board.

  Vacations are by nature unpredictable. That is really the whole point, isn't it? They are more than just a way to fill in the blanks left from documentaries or books about a destination. They are meant to entertain us by offering a sharp contrast to our predictable daily routine. By this measure our adventure is starting out great.

  Now in honor of my Pollyanna approach to this little hiccup I will play the glad game.

      Things I Am Glad Of:
      
       1)Good company
       2)No missed flight connections
       3)Business class lounge
       4)Free cocktails :)
       5)Not plummeting to the earth

  Feel free to offer some I may not have thought of in the comment space below this blog.

I'm Leaving On A Jet Plane

  London. It was my sister Sylvia's idea, and she brought it up over our monthly mah jong game. You know, that game the four women in The Joy Luck Club play? The one with the cool looking tiles? Over the course of several months we had taught ourselves to play, and had become proficient enough to start wagering money. Penny ante gambling was the carrot we had used to lure Sylvia's husband Steve into being our fourth. Now Sylvia had come up with a novel idea for the kitty. The four of us: me, my partner Greg, Sylvia, and Steve would rent a flat in London for a month, and use the mah jong winnings we had saved over the next couple of years for incidentals while we vacationed there. It seemed like a brilliant idea.

  That was nearly five years ago. As sometimes happens with these things, life got in the way. Greg and I started a hair salon, and a year and a half later had the opportunity to buy a storefront. Steve retired early due to a nasty injury at work. It was one thing or another. The whole idea seemed like it was becoming one of those things you always planned to do, but just never got around to. Then last year, Sylvia informed us she and Steve were booking their flights. Of course they would still love to rent a flat with us if we were interested, but they were going with or without us.

  Thanks Sylvia and Steve, that was just the push we needed. We are now sitting in the living room with our packed bags by the front door. In a few hours we will be soaring through the skies on our first vacation to Europe. No work-related distractions to deal with. No mundane household chores to complete. Just the four of us, and twenty-one days in London.