Shut yer gob and mind the gap

Sorry I've been so lame about writing in this space of late. I really wanted to post all of my trip writing before I moved on to more recent writings. The result is that it all just piles up on me. Sigh.

But here's the next installment of the UK trip stuff:

Tuesday evening, the first night in London, we walked from Holborn up to Angel station so Sarah could get a nice view of the city for the first time. Granted, she saw mostly residential space, but still. I know how discombobulating it is to ride the tube when you're first in town because you get no sense of where you are. I'm glad that Sarah and I are of similar mind in such matters - we're organised map people. Nice. We met Annie at her flat, which was super nice, and walked about town to find sustenance. One thing I hate about London is that finding a place to eat when you're super hungry is often a challenge. I'm not sure why since there are so many places, but this is at least the fourth or fifth time I've found myself wandering too far for food to the point of grumpiness. We settle oddly enough on the place where we started, which is the Angel Pub across the street from the station. I like that everything in the neigborhood is Angel and it became funnier after I got really drunk on Guinness and we stumbled back home.

Wednesday we were up and at it early. After breakfast at Pret a Manger (my favorite chain thing in London), we went to St. Paul's (Sint Paul's to you) and climbed the unholy steps to the top. I think it ends up being 400 or so, maybe more, and many of them are steep spirals. I like St. Paul's, but it definitely doesn't feel like a church. It doesn't have the ceremony or ritual that Catholic cathedrals have for sure. The views from the top were worth it - one can see literally for miles, and it reminds me how odd a city London is. For all its ancient-ness, it's also incredibly modern and that it grew up around its Roman walls and Towers and churches is quite remarkable. From there it was off to Kensington for the day, which I have done before, but love. We stopped by Buckinham for the changing of the guard. It's all tourists and not as big a deal as one might think, but it's also one of those things you have to do, just to say you did. From there we walked along Green Park and by Hyde Park and down to Harrod's, which is always fun. We cruised the food rooms and got a spectacular picnic lunch of a meat pie (not the Mrs. Lovett kind, either), some stinky cheese, a sesame roll, and some sparkling water. Refreshed, we trolled through the Brompton Oratory (now, this is a church! If God exists anywhere, it's here for me) and to the V&A museum. Sarah went on the tour, but I know better; museums overwhelm me entirely and I can't take them in except in small doses. I pick one thing to see, see it, and then leave. It's the only way to maintain sanity in my book. This year I chose to see the plaster castings room and the medieval collection. Amazing stuff.

By then I was pretty tired after the St. Paul's marathon and needed a coffee. Went to the cafe in the V&A (which is beautiful like the rest of the place) and sat with a strong skinny one in a tall cup. Then Jamison phoned, and it was one of those pure, snapshot moments that I know I'll always have in my head - there I was, sitting casually in a London museum having a coffee, listening to conversations around me and talking to my love over a cell phone, who was literally halfway round the world from me. I was thrilled to be that woman in that place and in that time all at once. My mother used to tell me that no one ever "arrives" in life, but I think we get to feel moments in which we do arrive, and this was one such moment for me.

Sarah and I then stumbled to Kensington Gardens, past Royal Albert Hall and the Albert Memorial (which is shameless and shameful all at the same time), and the day was perfect. A beautiful fall day in the Garden and that's another thing I love about London: despite the hustle and bustle, the grime and the grit, and the constant flow of millions of people through this urban perfection, there are still massive parks and gardens right in the middle of it all, so large in fact that one can only scarcely hear the traffic, where leaves turn fall colours and ducks splash and dogs bound cheerfully after balls and frisbees. I could live in a place like this. Kensington Palace was a complete disappointment, however. I had been waiting to see the inside for so long that I think I'd built it up too much. It was boring and oddly laid out, and fairly unimpressive as far as touristy things go here. And we were tired. Without further adieu, we drifted over to The Orangery for afternoon high tea with Annie, and this was the highlight of the afternoon to be sure. I love high tea - the little sandwiches, the ceremony, scones with clotted cream. Ah, clotted cream. It even sounds unhealthy and it is, but so lovely to eat, it's a good thing I don't have it readily available here. Really.

From there we attempted to find Notting Hill gate to no avail and headed back home. We took a short rest and then caught the train to Herne Hill, where our friends Valerie and David live. They had graciously asked us to supper round their place, and it felt nice to be in a home so far from home, to eat home cooked food, and to sit around talking like normal people. Vacations always provide the opposite and it's nice to touch base, I think. I love that people in London follow American politics, perhaps more closely than we do. The UK, in my experience, is Obama-ville, across the board. Their news coverage is unwaveringly liberal and they HATE Sarah Palin, which proves only their collective superiority in intelligence from our beloved U.S. But that's just my humble opinion.