Heads Will Roll Should The Birds Get Out

Our last day in London.

After (happily) checking out of our hotel and grabbing a quick sandwich from Marks & Spencer we headed to the Tower of London for a guided tour. Lots of fun, (we took these pictures of the famous ravens of the Tower), but I don't think it was worth the admission price.




Do you know about the ravens? Besides the Tudor history with its beheadings and hauntings and all that wicked, great stuff, the story of the ravens in the Tower was especially interesting. Supposedly no one knows when ravens first started living in the Tower of London courtyards, but there is a legend about their constant presence: At least 6 ravens must remain in the Tower or else the English monarchy will fall.

The tour guide told us a story about The first Royal Observatory which was originally housed in the tower. According to legendary accounts, an astronomer to King Charles II in the late 1600's or so complained to the king that the birds were... ahem... interfering (pooping?) with his telescopes and, therefore, his observations. King Charles was about to have the ravens destroyed until someone in his court told him about the legend and the destruction of the kingdom should the ravens leave. The king changed his mind and decreed that at least 6 ravens should live in the Tower at all times.

The Tower has seven ravens (1 extra, like an understudy I guess), all with their wings clipped to prevent their flying away. They seem pretty happy, fat and content. There's a yeoman warder or "Beefeater" (official guards of the Tower) who's sole responsibility is to take care of the ravens. He's called the Raven Master (not to be mistaken with the Dungeon Master - hah hah.)

(JD at the outside of the Tower of London)

In the afternoon, we said goodbye to London and flew back to Dublin. When we checked back into the Camden Deluxe, one of the front desk people (who we recognized and really liked) recognized us back and said with a smile, "you just can't stay away, can you?" We laughed... No, we're not done yet.

I Cried Like A Wuss

Sunday was the most exciting day yet. Woke up feeling tons better but purposely took it real easy to make sure we were at our best for our theatre matinee reservations later in the afternoon. Decided to nix our outing to Tate Modern (regrettably - I've been before but wanted to go again), and take a long and leisurely morning nap.

By the by, the other night I purchased a new suitcase. The one we brought on the trip failed us on the first day in London - one of the wheels broke - and so it seemed necessary to dish out extra money to replace it. It was fine with me anyway since the old suitcase was a flimsy budget buy with no real stability. I was prepared to go to Oxford Street and browse the department stores, but just as we turned to corner, heading to Earls Court station, I noticed across the street a small shop with tons of souvenirs, bags and suitcases for sale. Beeline. I found a really solid black rolling case for the "reasonable price" of 80 quid (about $157).

Segueing back... At about 12 pm we headed to Covent Garden, first to have lunch at Porters English Restaurant, a decent place with decent English food. The theatre lunch deal was good for what was left of our pounds, at least. JD and I had both ordered their St. Peter's Brewery Honey Porter, which was one of the most delicious beers we've ever tasted, no joke. It had a distinct honey aftertaste and when you finish your pint, the glass leaves a fermented honey scent.

While JD was in the restroom, I noticed this group at a table next to us with what looked like a box gift set of beer and glasses. I leaned over and asked the group how they got it. "Ask your server. We got the Honey Porter, it is by far the best!" they said. I responded, "that was what WE had! I agree, it was delicious." I thanked them and when the server came back with the check, I purchased a Honey Porter set for JD (2 bottles of Honey Porter, 2 beer glasses.)

After lunch it was time to go see The Lion King. JD has seen it in New York City when he was younger and he admitted to me that the opening number Circle of Life made him cry. I ribbed him and called him a wuss, jokingly, and said I wasn't going to cry over something silly like that. (Truthfully, when I first saw The Lion King trailer in the movie theatre circa 1993, it was the Circle of Life musical opening scene, and I bawled like a baby.)

So yeah... when the opening sequence began, with Rafiki singing lead and all the actors/dancers/singers coming out in their animal costumes, the first thing I thought was: "Oh my god." I was not prepared for the genius and beauty I was seeing. Nor was I prepared for when the ensemble finally chimed in at the chorus. By the time the dramatic, harmonic last lines of the song ended, I could hardly hold it back. I choked and sobbed like a damn wuss. Needless to say, the show was outstanding. Yes, everyone should see it.

Translating Rocks and a Famous Killer No One Knows

Saturday we did two cool things: Visit the British Museum and go on a Jack The Ripper Walking Tour.

The British Museum is one of the most amazing museums in the world! We got to see the Rosetta Stone, which was funny because we didn't recognize it at first. It was like we were right in front of it and saw a bunch of people hovering around it and it never connected. JD walked up to a security guard nearby and asked him where it was and he looked at him with this expression like, "you're a retard" and pointed directly behind him to the crowd.

We had afternoon tea in the museum at the Court Restaurant, sitting at a table that had a view of the famed Reading Room below.

We must have stayed at the Museum for 4 hours or something because when we finally came out, it was dark. We took a nice walk around the neighborhood and decided to have dinner at this Italian restaurant near Earl's Court station.

There was this old guy sitting next to us at the restaurant with this girl who looked like she could be his granddaughter, but of course was his date for the evening. He was so annoying because I kept overhearing him talk about himself and she never said anything. When it was time for us to pay for our meal, this ass of a man leaned over and made a snide remark, asking us why we were shortchanging our server – "didn't you enjoy your food?" What he saw at that moment was us counting out 1 and 2 pound coins so we can give her a fat 25% tip. Dude, when your country's higher denominations come in coin form, you're gonna look cheap no matter what. (In retrospect, we really didn't need to tip our server that much per British custom, but that was beside the point.)

Afterwards, we hurried out to Tower Hill (overlooking the Tower of London) to meet up with our tour group for the Jack the Ripper tour. I was really really excited because our tour guide was Donald Rumbelow, who is renowned as the premier expert on Jack the Ripper history and the case. At the end of the tour, he did a little shameless self-promotion by offering his book for sale. Of course, I bought one and he signed it for us. But no joke, the tour was really great. I'm sure that sounds weird and creepy, and yeah, I'm kinda into famous serial murder histories….

Now I'm sure you're totally creeped out.

Wild Church Views

On Friday morning, I woke up feeling like I was getting better. After grabbing some convenient eats from Marks & Spencer Simply Food, we were off to grab the earliest London double decker tour bus we could find.

In retrospect, the double decker tour was probably a little unnecessary – for some reason it felt boring and long compared to the tour I took in 2004. We got off near St. Paul's Cathedral, which was our next destination. Unfortunately, I was actually feeling bad again, and what's worse, JD was starting to feel a bit ill too. We made a quick pit stop at a nearby coffee house to grab some tea and then to a pharmacist for some medicine.



I never had a chance to visit St. Paul's the last time I was in London, which was funny since I stayed just down the road. After a quick walk around the cathedral, we made our way up to the Whispering Gallery – 259 steps up a winding staircase. The climb made it embarrassingly apparent to me just how out of shape I was. That's all I will say.

(St. Pauls shot from outside)

The Whispering Gallery is named so because of the perfect acoustics which allow someone on one end of the gallery to whisper to someone clear across the other end and they will be able to hear perfectly. No lie. JD and I tried this and it was true. Truly awesome.

Later we climbed another level above the Whispering Gallery – the Stone Gallery – which can be reached after over 120 steps. This "gallery" is really an outdoor walkabout around the cathedral dome with a short stone wall separating you from a 173 foot drop. The view was unbelievable. It was also unbelievably cold.





I was planning to climb to the final and highest gallery, the Golden Gallery, but because I starting feel really unwell, I let JD get there on his own. The Golden Gallery was an additional 152 steps above the Stone Gallery. In total, this precarious "gallery" is 280 feet from ground level. According to JD, he had to climb these outside stairs which became almost near-vertical at points to reach this spot. Once there, though, he said it was all worth it. Again, this gallery was outdoors and offered an unparalleled view. Next time we're in London, I promised myself that I had to get to it.

(A shot JD took while climbing the steps to the Golden Gallery)

When we left St. Pauls, both JD and I were feeling totally under the weather. We decided to scratch some things off our itinerary for the next few days, move some visits around, and go back to the hotel that afternoon for some sleep. We woke up 4 hours later in time to grab some dinner and go on a ghost walking tour.

Stonehenge, Bath and Harry's Parents' House

It was a wet Thursday morning when we departed for our Stonehenge tour from a corner hotel 3 blocks from the Earls Court station. I couldn't help thinking when I sat in the hotel lobby how infinitely nicer this hotel was and I longed for its surely nicer beds and clean sparkling bathroom fixtures.

When I was last in London in 2004 I went on the "5,000 Years In A Day" tour, which focused more on south England ancient sites including Stonehenge. Because JD was with me this time, and he's never seen Stonehenge, I decided that I had to go on another tour for his sake. This time around, we went on a different tour that featured a 3 hour trip to Bath. I think I was more excited about the side trip to Bath than he was – I knew more about the town and I was a Jane Austen fan.

The gentleman who was our driver and tour guide was charming and chattering. A fulfilled requirement for a good guide. Standard for tour guides of these day trips are that they be walking founts of random and interesting knowledge. As we drove away from London and eventually into the beautiful countryside of the Cotswolds, he had trivia and stories for almost everything we saw along the way.

The drive was too calming and there were times I fought sleep so I could hear him talk some more and stare at the gorgeous scenery whizzing past me. There were times I lost. One point, I woke up to hear him singing "I want to be ... your Sledgehammer." So random! I burst out laughing, but was also pissed to think that I probably missed some Peter Gabriel trivia.

When Stonehenge came into view 90 minutes into our drive, I watched everyone's reactions. I think I was the only one in the van besides the driver who's been there before. There was a sudden, sober silence. Don't think that I was at all jaded. It was just as unreal as the first time for me too. And just like the first time, it was cold as hell as we walked around the monolith with our narrative handsets.



We finally climbed back into the van and were on our way to Bath.

Just so you know, when people think of English countryside, they are really imagining visions of the Cotswolds. Picture this: Traditional thatched-roof houses, rolling pastures dotted with grazing sheep, rambling estates and hedge-lined 2-lane roads… This is the Cotswolds. I couldn't help getting fleeting scenes in my head from Sense and Sensibility, Mansfield Park, Emma, Pride & Prejudice.



We then got stuck in traffic(!) a mere 3 minutes away from Bath. We sat in the van for more than 30 minutes, barely moving, and when we eventually got going again, one of the passengers found out via the internet connection on her phone that there was an accident. The wait was worth it – the beautiful honey-colored stone on Bath's buildings came into view and we were taken by surprise. This was one beautiful wonderful town.

We took a tour of the famous Roman baths (which Bath got their name from, duh.) It was awesome seeing the naturally heated mineral waters bubbling into the old Roman baths, even now, more than 2000 years later. There were great things to see like current excavations, statues, interactive histories.



But the most amazing thing by far was when we walked into the below-ground exhibit/excavations and heard this hissing, gurgling, roaring sound. I went into this gift shop and bought some lotion and JD continued on. I heard him call out for me and when I followed his voice, I came upon him staring at this gaping maw in rock face with ancient plumbing. The area around it was steamy and smelled of metal and sulfur. From this opening gushed this raw, hot, roaring water and the plumbing around the water was caked with iron deposits and other metallics. JD said, "this is water from HELL!" and I wasn't one to contradict him. I was disappointed that he didn't take a picture.

By the way, JD was not taking as many pictures of our trip as I had hoped. I wasn't aware of this until later this evening. Lame.

After the baths tour, we decided to take our tour guide's advice and have lunch at the famous Sally Lunn's Buns. Famous brioche-type buns that they use for sandwiches, as a side with soup, and even for breakfast and dessert. Delicious to the maxxxxxxx.

Needless to say, we wished we could have stayed in Bath longer. 3 hours was definitely not long enough, and we didn't even get to visit the Jane Austen museum. Ah well – another excuse to come back…

Before heading back to London, we made a quick visit to the town of Lacock, which is in the running as "the most charming town in England." A few things of note about the town: 1) the town's most famous resident is the Duchess of Cornwall, aka Camilla Parker Bowles. Her daughter was married in the town's church (St. Cyriac's.) 2) Before Camilla's move to Lacock after her divorce from her first husband, the town's most famous resident was William Fox Talbot. 3) Possibly the most famous house within the town is one a few steps from the church. This house was used to portray Harry Potter's parents' house in The Sorcerer's Stone. We included a picture (0ne of the few JD took. HAH.):



As well, the Warming Room in Lacock Abbey was used to portray Professor Quirrell's classroom in The Sorcerer's Stone.

We finally got back to London near 7 pm. After having some great Indian food for dinner, we begrudgingly turned in for the night.

The Bathers and Sunflowers

When we arrived Wednesday afternoon in London, we crashed in our crappy room for a couple of hours and when we woke up, I turned to JD and said, "ready to explore?"

Jumped onto the Tube at Earls Court and exited at Westminster. The sun was about to set and one of the first things we saw when we came out of the Tube and onto the street was Big Ben and Houses of Parliament. JD got very quiet for a moment and I realized that he was probably finally taking it all in. "Welcome to London" I said with a smile and he smiled back a bit dreamily.

Our first London sightseeing stop was Westminster Abbey. The cathedral was a bit eerie and sobering, and I felt a little awed staring at the dozens of effigies, statues and crypts. JD whipped out his sketchpad and drew Shakespeare's statue while I did a little more walking, eventually having to leave for a moment to take a restroom break across the street.

(Here's a pic taken during our tour a few days later- better lighting and all.)


Later that night I took JD for a walk around Trafalgar Square. Ate at one of my favorite restaurants, Cafe In The Crypt, located in, yes, the crypt of St. Martin in the Fields Church. They give you way too much food for what you pay, though with the dollar-pound exchange rate, that's really a good thing nowadays.

BTW, the English can't do a proper apple pie for shit. I might be angering a few people out there, or even blaspheming (since the English were the originators of apple pie), but give me an American slice any day.

Afterwards we went to the National Gallery.


Now I love this museum, and the last time I was here, I spent 3 hours inside and looked at EVERYTHING. This time around JD and I focused on some key areas/periods, particularly the "Manet To Picasso" exhibition in the basement Sainsbury Wing. I had to make sure he bore witness to seeing such famous Impressionistic pieces like Sunflowers by Van Gogh and Bathers At Asnieres by Seurat in the flesh. It's pretty indescribable, even the second time around. As for JD, well...being an art major and having studied these masterpieces... it was bit mind-blowing for him.

This season's special exhibition was Velazquez, and I recalled seeing some of his works (including the famous Las Meninas) on display at the Museo Del Pradoin Madrid, so I was excited to see these works. Unfortunately, this was a paid exhibition and so we ixnayed this begrudgingly. Ah well, we're going to Spain next year anyway.

Most of London's museums are free. I really love that. Like, really.

What's That Smell?

Got off the plane this morning from Dublin to Heathrow airport (only an hour or so flight), as sick as a dog. JD was worried that I wouldn't be able to go on or even enjoy the remainder of our trip, and suggested that we cancel our plans and head home early.

To which I replied, "HELL NO."

I was going to take my chances.

We arrived at the hostel with JD exhausted acting as pack mule helping to lug my stuff because of my illness (my dear wonderful boyfriend.) The hostel, it turns out, was a bit of a shabby, smelly place off of Earls Court station and to make things worse, the double bed rooms they advertise don't freaking exist. To them and only them, a double bed (which is used to describe a queen or king size bed overseas), means a room with two twin beds. I was sick, I was pissed, and I was tempted to take our chances and find accommodations elsewhere. The woman behind the counter added that the room was small enough that we could push the two twin beds together. After a millisecond of angry thinking, I thought, "fuck it, we would lose one day's cost of accommodation and I'm too sick to care more about this" and paid for the rest of our stay.

The woman was not joking - the room was tiny as hell, the beds old and springy, and weird annoying smells were everywhere. The smells are like a mix of very bad Indian food, some b.o., mildew, and musty air. The shared bathrooms were even worse - they insist that they are cleaned every day, but apparently what I consider clean and what they consider clean are two different things.

I've said before that I'm the kind of person who doesn't care where I lay my head, as long as there is a bed and a bathroom. But let me change that now: I don't care where I lay my head, as long as there is A CLEAN LARGE BED and a VERY CLEAN BATHROOM.

So for any of you out there who are trying to find budget accommodations in London - don't book at Nevern Hostel. In fact, if you are a couple traveling looking for private rooms, it's worth the extra 10-20 pounds per night just to have something acceptable and CLEAN.

(For the record, when I visited London alone in 2004, I stayed at City of London/St. Paul's Youth Hostel near Blackfriar's Station. This place is wonderful for any lone traveler/backpacker in search of a single bed and not minding sharing a room with 3-9 other people. The beds are comfortable, the bathrooms very clean, and you a get free full English breakfast every morning with your reservation.)

I'm actually a bit tired so I will sign off for now. There is more to tell about tonight, but I will have to relay it all in the morning. My nasty-ass bed awaits.


Ta-ta.

The Shite Plane Ride and Gammon Steak

Ok...

I have been totally spoiled on JetBlue and British Airways.

To its credit, Aer Lingus DOES have some of the friendliest flight attendants in the business. But could it HURT to have the seats placed a little farther apart? I mean, I'm a midgetey 5 feet 2 inches and the seating was cramped even for me. I had to witness my poor boyfriend suffering with his knees practically to his chest the entire near-10-hour flight. We didn't sleep at all on the the plane by the way... surprised?

When we arrived at Dublin Airport, the weather was gorgeous - meaning gorgeous for Dublin standards - all pretty clouds and dappled sunlight and 60 degrees at noon. We arrived at our hotel, crazy exhausted and thinking only of ... well nothing... only to find out that check-in was an hour and a half away. We tried to kill some time, which in a normal state of mind, would not have mattered in the least, but in the current situation of mind-bending walking dead-ness, was mildly perturbing at best. When we finally checked in, it was like time ceased to exist. (Our hotel, btw, was lovely in the budget sort of sense, which mattered not to us, being of the budget sort of traveler. I found out later from the brochures that I happened upon in the lobby that the hotel was featured prominently in The Commitments!)

5 lost hours later...

Wandering Temple Bar and - yes - Dublin is fantastic. As I am writing this, JD and I had just finished a lingering boxty and irish stew dinner at Gallagher's, ending with an uber-bang of divine chocolate steamed pudding with fresh cream. For those of you who don't know, a boxty is like a huge potato pancake stuffed with various yummy stews or such, then topped with gravy, cheese, herbs, etc. Radical. Anyway, he ordered a "gammon steak boxty", thinking it was some sort of fancy irish-type BEEF, but when it arrived... gammon steak is some sort of ham. I didn't like it. He liked it a lot. You learn something new every day.

Anyway, I want to keep writing, preferably something wittingly observant and/or amusingly trivial, but I'm at an internet cafe right now and JD is standing out in the rain. Don't ask my why. I'll write more tomorrow. Just wanted to let all of you know we're well and good and ... goddamn we're in Dublin. I promise the next entry won't seem so rushed and checklist-ey. (I realize I make up a lot of words.)

JD also promised to take lots of pictures, so I've entrusted him with the camera. Unfortunately, no piccies today.

London part deux, Dublin part un

In 3 days, 1 hour and 15 minutes, JD and I will be on a plane headed to Dublin. It's the first time in Dublin for the both of us, and as I've said in a past blog, if I was going by myself I would be excited in a totally different and more introspective way. Having someone with you whom you love deeply, am more comfortable with than in one's own skin, and is new to the overseas travel process - it's a whole new excitement ballpark. 2 days into the trip we're doing a 5 day run in London and I can't wait to show my boyfriend around one of my most favorite cities in the whole entire world.