So Long London and Thanks for all the Fish and Chips

Day 3? It’s hard to keep track, at this point.

Since Peter and Dan both had work on this morning, Jeff and I planned on making our way on our own, using the tube as we could and walking between places whenever possible. The plan of the day was to see the Tower of London and Tower Bridge, then pop back to get my newly unlocked phone (the guy said it wouldn’t be ready until 11), then get down to Buckingham Palace, walk over to the National Gallery, and then make our way back to the hotel, to freshen up before seeing We Will Rock You.

And, shockingly, everything went as planned! This is especially shocking as we had forgotten our maps in our room at the hotel, and having made all our plans we were quite unawares of how to get anywhere. But it turned out to be a lot simpler than we thought. We made it easily to the Tower of London, bought tickets, and attached ourselves to a tour group. As an uneducated tourist, I was honestly expecting a tower, and not the heavily gated castle that is actually present. We were informed by our Beefeater tour guide that it was originally actually a tower, or at least more tower-like when it was first built, and though it had increased in size and become much more expansive than a single tower, it still retains its name.

He also told us that nobody knows exactly why Beefeaters are called Beefeaters (they are otherwise known as the King’s Guard of the Yeomen of the Guard, or presently as the Queen‘s Guard of the Yeomen of the Guard), and that in order to be considered for the position of Beefeater, applicants must first complete at least 22 years in service of the Armed Forces, achieve the rank of Sergeant Major, and also be awarded the Good Service and Conduct Medal. No mere tour guides, these! They also live within the walls of the tower, in homes once used by the King’s soldiers. I thought that was amazing. And so much better than just a tour guide, once a History Major and now disillusioned with the world, but to actually have someone who is invested in the history of their country, having once been charged with protecting it.

The tower itself is also quite interesting, though I could have done without the line up of all the Kings’ horses. Unfortunately, the exhibit “King Henry VIII: Dressed to Kill” was closed, as it is being changed over to a new exhibit. I hadn’t even known about Dressed to Kill before I saw the sign, but as soon as I did I was absolutely depressed. I consoled myself with viewing the Crown Jewels, which we have no pictures of, but which were extremely shiny. I think most of the stones were plaster models, as having actual multi-million dollar diamonds and other precious stones in full view of mere peasants seems like a poor decision. But maybe HM the Queen has greater faith in her people than I.

After a few hours wandering around the Tower, we wandered back out again, took some pictures of Tower Bridge, and then headed back to the tube. At this point it was past 11, and we were going to head back up to get my newly unlocked phone from the smarmy phone guy, and then head back down to Buckingham Palace. Unfortunately, when we got to the phone guy, he had not only failed to unlock my phone, but he had actually completely locked it, so it couldn’t even recognize the original O2 SIM card. Needless to say, I was extremely upset. We had already spent 20 pounds on a new SIM card (the card was free, but we pre-paid for a 20 pound top up so we could call and text people) and now could not even retrieve my old contacts from my phone. The man offered to give us a new phone at a discounted rate, but we declined. I was, and still am, rather upset about the whole thing, both with him and with myself. Not only did he cause us to waste time, but we now have a 20 pound top up that we can’t use. Awesome. I mean, I’m sure we can find someone over here who wouldn’t mind having it, but it’s still damn stupid. And it put me in a foul mood for quite some time.

Really, it wasn’t until we got to St. James’ Garden, near Buckingham, that I started to feel better. Sure, we’d wasted 20 pounds but in the grand scheme of things it’s not such a big deal. And St. James’ is lovely. Rolling green hills and a waterfowl park, ice cream stands and lots of benches. Jeff and I had a wonderful time just walking around, holding hands (we are so sic kingly sweet, I know) and chasing some birds. There were even pelicans! I’d never seen such a diverse gathering of birds in the UK and it was a lot of fun. We got tons of pictures, and Jeff’s favorite can be seen in his slide show (hint: It features a tiny little doggy).

Ok, now comes my horrible confession time: I don’t know what Buckingham Palace looks like. I can identify it only from the men with big hats standing out front, and so we were literally at the gates before I realized where we were. We weren’t able to see the changing of the guard, but we did see them march around a bit and they were wearing very big hats, so all in all I was quite pleased.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
NOTE TO READERS:
Internet was very flaky though fast on the train so I was unable to completely upload UK day 3, Ill post on twitter with another update to this entry later so that you all know the images are up.  Now back to Kari's fancy writing.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 And the mall between the palace and Trafalgar Square was lovely and straight and full of huge flags, both of GB and South Africa, from whom HM was expecting a delegation the following day. We were told that the National Gallery was just the other side of Trafalgar Square, and having only about an hour before we needed to head back, we made our way there, with haste but with already aching feet as well. Trafalgar Square was the other side of a series of arches, through which Jeff and I passed and then were immediately stopped! We had paused to admire the gate of the arches, when an elderly man came up and spoke these words:

“There’s a nose on that wall.”
“Sorry?” I said.
“A while ago a gentleman told me that there’s a nose on that wall and I’ve just found it and isn’t it quite strange. I don’t know why it’s there. I suppose it’s like that artist who always put mice in his things.”

I had no idea what he was talking about! A nose? On the gate or on the column or what? Finally I spotted it. Indeed, at around head height on the side of an archway, facing (nosing?) where the cars pass by, is a life sized gold nose. There is no plaque that I could see, no reason for it to be there. Urban art? Perhaps. But a nose, nevertheless. I thanked the man for pointing it out, and assumed he would wander onwards. But, no.

“You’re American, are you? From where?”

“Well, I’m from Washington, DC and my boyfriend is from Baltimore, Maryland, which is about an hour north.”

“And what are you doing in London?”

“We’re just stopping here a few days before we head up to Edinburgh, to visit some friends.”

“I like London,” he said, “but I’m more of a Kentish man, myself. In order to be a true Cockney it’s said that you need to be born within the sound of Big Ben’s bells, which I was not, but my mother was, if you believe that. And so she was a proper Cockney, but then she went away to secondary school and got a bit of a posh accent. So when she came home everyone said ‘Oh, now she’s gotten all posh’ which was a bad thing because the whole idea of posh people is that they walk around with their noses in the air.”

I didn’t know what to say. What do you say to this outpouring of personal information? Thank you? I must have said something appropriate, because he lingered a bit more, talking about how he’d never been to America, and then wished us well and good health and was on his way.

Very friendly, these Englishmen.

After that encounter, and having gotten pictures of the nose, we made our way to Trafalgar Square. I love this square. It’s huge and open, with a lot going on. There are people draped on the lions that guard the statue of Admiral Nelson (not, actually, Napoleon), and several fountains with lots of mermaids, and giant steps leading up to the National Gallery.  We had only a few minutes to look around, so after I got a picture of Jeff with a lion, we went onwards into the Gallery. And how I wish we’d had more time. Like the British Museum, I could happily spend days in the National Gallery. Anyone who knows me well would know that this is true of any such place, museum or gallery or otherwise. But as we had only a bit of time, we had to choose what to admire with care.

When we left again it was nearly 6, and the air was quite a bit cooler. As the show was at 7:30, and we still needed to shower and get ready, we rushed to the underground and back to the hotel.

The show was tons of fun. I’m not the biggest Queen fan in the world, and I haven’t really heard that much of their stuff, but even so the show was great. The basic plot is that it’s a post music-apocalyptic world (meaning that the music is dead and/or destroyed) and this team of Bohemians must find the legendary weapons of the mighty Champions (Queen) and restore free thought to all the GaGa girls and boys. Honestly, when Jeff bought the tickets I was a little put out. I mean, clearly I’ll go, if only because I love him and he loves Queen and the transitive property is much in effect here, but by the end of the show I was so happy to have gone for myself. The crowd was really lots of fun, standing up and singing along to the final songs (We Will Rock You, We Are the Champions, Bohemian Rhapsody, etc). And now I really want to listen to a lot more Queen.

When the show was over it was 10:30. This isn’t really a shock, it’s just that we were supposed to meet up with Peter once he was done with work and we were done with the show, for a few drinks to celebrate our last day in London (and not getting lost on the tube too badly). But at this point it was far too late. He had work the next morning at 5 or so, and knowing well how that is, we didn’t fuss about going out with him. Instead, Jeff and I went to a lovely Indian restaurant that was recommended by the man behind the counter at our hotel. We hadn’t had Indian yet since we’d arrived, and it was something we were aching to do. Funny how going to get Indian food is now a touristy thing to do in London, but there you go. And I love Indian food. It was nearly midnight by the time we got to the restaurant, and we were just happy they were open. Half an hour and most of a bottle of wine later, we were once again ready to lay down our weary heads, proud of ourselves for the full day we’d put in, and eager to restart our adventure the next day.


And now, as I type this, we have already started the next part of our adventure. We are most of the way to Edinburgh, having left King’s Cross at 10AM (sorry, no picture of platform 9¾! We thought the train was at 10:30 and not at 10, so when we went to the station we were quite rushed), and we will be arriving in Edinburgh at 2:30. I can’t wait! The countryside is rolling and beautiful and I eagerly anticipate running into the arms of my friend Sandra, who should, with any luck, be meeting us at the train station.

And with that, I’m all caught up!