Last Saturday was our usually scheduled “date day” where one of us is in charge. Last Saturday was Mer’s turn, and she decided to start it in style (at least for us). She trundled us off to have a brunch at Bob Evans’s.  We hope someday post-house that we will be able to have brunch out most Saturdays. We both love hearty breakfasts. In the meantime, we occasionally cheat on our budget and go our for an unauthorized meal. It was a good way to start the day – good food and hot chocolate and good company.

We then ran a few errands and I spent some early Christmas cash on an iPod Touch charger so I would not have to keep my computer on for four hours just to charge the battery. Not a super-exciting outing, but again, the company was most pleasant (although she was not going to be bothered to go into a nerd-intensive store like Radio Shack when I went to get an RCA cable so I could plug the Touch into my stereo).

We puttered around back at home, and had a good time with out usual Saturday pastime of listening to Wait Wait … Don’t Tell Me! Mer had more food in store, though, so after Wait Wait we headed south toward Canton. One of Mer’s old friends had rediscovered her through Facebook, and she was throwing an informal party at a local buffet restaurant. Mer wanted to go, and I am an easy sell for buffets. Our budget allows for us to be invited out by other people, so we were okay with this outing.

I had never been to this restaurant before – it is a local chain called Golden Corral. It was not cheap (about $12 per person), but I have never seen a buffet like this before. The buffet line stretched the length of the restaurant – about five separate sections. I guess Midwesterners like to eat!

I got to meet Mer’s friend, Jennifer. In the wonderfully odd world of technology, Jennifer and I were already “friends” on Facebook because of Mer. It was nice to meet her in person. She seems very nice. She has three kids, and we got to see pictures, and Mer and Jennifer generally caught up (having not seen each other in about 18 years). We were later joined by one of Jennifer’s friends, David, who had gone to CVCA through eighth grade. We spent the better part of two hours chatting and eating and eating and eating. Mer and I made sure we got our $12 worth! Since our evening was not done, we rolled out to head home around 6:00.

We were meeting Ken and Janet at our home so we could take them to Actors’ Summit theater. The theater was putting on its Christmas play, which this year was The Sanders Family Christmas. It is a sequel to the play Smoke on the Mountain. It is a play set at Christmas time in 1941, 18 days after Pearl Harbor. It is set in a small mountain church, where the Sanders Family bluegrass band has come to play for us, the congregation. It is very light-hearted, with occasional moments of seriousness (with the war background present through much of the play). There are lots and lots of bluegrass numbers performed through the play – about 20 or more total.

We had seen this play years ago with Ken and Janet at Malone College. We thought it was wonderful. It pokes gentle fun at small Southern churches without mocking them. Ken, who was raised Baptist, found himself thinking a lot of times, “Yeah, that is how it is.” They did a nice job. Rumor had it that the Malone production took a year to prepare for – one of the main characters uses sign language through much of the play (her character can’t sing well, so she signs even though no one is deaf). That must have taken some time to learn, and supposedly the actors had to learn the songs as they did not initially know how to play their instruments. The sister who signed had stolen the show in the Malone production, with lots of over-the-top moments that were great fun to watch,

Actors’ Summit’s production was excellent, but sadly, they cannot prepare for a whole year, since they turn plays over every eight weeks or so. The actors were great, and the music was very fine (including an actor playing dobro!), but they had to compromise with the sister who signed. She only signed through the first part of the first act; after that, she sang with the ensemble, and they modified the script to go from her saying she could not sing to her saying she could not sing solo. It was completely understandable, but it was too bad, since much of the fun when we first saw the show came from watching the exaggerated signing for the lyrics of the songs.

Having said that, the play was still quite funny, and the music made for  a fine evening. The song selection did a good job balancing well-known songs with ones that are not played anymore. It was also great fun to get to go out with Ken and Janet – since we don’t live near them anymore, we only get to see them outside of church a couple of times per year.

If you ever do get a chance to see The Sanders Family Christmas, I recommend it. It is not terribly deep, but it is entertaining, and not a typical Christmas-style play.

Irony: The state of amusement that comes from the contrast of a situation with the surroundings of that situation. (Riordan Dictionary)

So I decided to go running this morning. It was cold (26 degrees), but I figured that I would stay warm enough if I ran. I like running outside, and I tend to go 1-3 miles further outside than I do on the treadmill. So, out I went with my iPod for company, playing Christmas music.

Everything was fine, and just shy of one mile in, while running up a hill, I felt my foot slip a little on some ice. It was a good warning, so I decided I’d need to keep away from the edge of the road where water runs and can freeze. I’d also have to keep an eye out for ice in general. I trotted on.

Just over one mile in, I was going down a hill. I noticed a slight discoloration in the road. Just as my right foot hit it. I had a brief thought of “that’s ice” before I went down really hard. Happily, I twisted as I fell, and caught most of the fall with my hands, although I did slide a little on my right leg, as you can see. The great part of all this – the song playing on the iPod was “White Christmas.” The irony was not lost on me.

I hobbled back home, and decided my new cut-off for running outside is 32 degrees. As I got back, Paula Radcliffe (a British marathoner) congratulated me via my iPod on achieving a new personal best in the mile. Maybe sliding down the hill helped my speed!

Last Friday we had the opening of the Fools’ 2008-2009 season. I have a large group this year (10 at the moment, but may grow to 12 after the Christmas break), but in this show only 6 of the Fools could make it. That was still plenty of Fools to go around, and since I had a 7th Fool unable to make it after I had created the show, I was able to jump in for four games instead of my originally scheduled one game. I have to admit that I like stage time, so I was excited to be able to have a larger role.

Because of some traffic issues, a couple of the Fools showed up late, so we just had time to go over my stage notes and play a very fast warm-up game (“Bunny Bunny”) before people started showing up. On the plus side, the traffic issue made the scheduled basketball game start later than it was supposed to, so we had a chance to finish the show roughly about the time the game started, so people did not have to choose between us and the game.

As is our tradition, I had the Fools greet people as they came through the door. We had a great mixed crowd – current students, parents, staff, and a good number of Fools alums. By the time the show was under way, most of the seats were filled with people standing as well. Since we had seating for 75, I’m estimating that we had about 90 people in attendance. They were a good crowd – quick on the suggestions, and LOTS of energy and laughter.

As usual, we played about 11 games, which made the show about 1 hour and 15 minutes. Also as usual, I do not remember too much about the show. While a game is going, I usually am thinking about the next game and what needs to be done, plus I have enough nervous energy that I can’t always remember what goes on.

Some things I do remember:
– a criminal who burned down Parliament in Detroit with a CVCA English teacher
– a dating game with a right-leg amputee (“It’s hard for me to make snow angels!”), Michael Jackson, and Martha Jones from Doctor Who fame
– the solution on how to fix the economy from a grumpy old man (“It’s fine!”)
– a person making ketchup packets in Tibet who was run over by a reindeer
– a trip to Mars on a rocket powered by toast
– a Genre Rewind that had two college students and an author transformed into Power Rangers
– The Fools ranting and raving about MC Hammer

I was very happy with the show. People have given me good feedback, and I remember the audience laughing a lot. The Fools have even been invited to be the entertainment at a church for a Valentine’s Day dinner! Our first gig! I’m looking forward to the next shows in February and March.

Day 6 – Monday, December 1st – Travel day

We woke up early and packed. It had taken us two hours to get to the hotel from the airport, and I wanted to have at least two hours to get through security, plus a little fudge time if needed, so we were out of the hotel around 8:00. We headed to our good friend the Tube, and headed into the city. We only needed to make one transfer, and that went fine. The trains were crowded, so having luggage was a little burdensome. I can’t imagine what it would have been like closer to 9:00!

We knew the general direction to get to Heathrow, but there are five terminals there and the Tube makes three separate stops. Sadly, there were no signs or announcements telling you which terminal to get off at for a particular line. There was a phone number you could call, but that did not help us much. The sign said terminals changed all the time and so you should call. You mean to tell me that United flies into a different terminal every month? That seemed shady. Anyway, I used my amazing deductive abilities to determine we should go to Terminal 5. When we had come from the airport, the train was at a terminus, and Terminal 5 was clearly a terminus. Voila. Ipso Facto.

We got off at Terminal 5, and it did not look quite right. Still, I figured it was because we were going in to the airport, and after a few confused minutes of trying to figure out how to get to Departures (Heathrow has a dearth of signs), we found our way up to the gates. For British Air. The entire terminal was for British Air. Even given the unlikely event that Aer Lingus flies into terminals based on whimsy, you would think that if Terminal 5 was for British Air exclusively, you could take a risk and label that terminal “British Air.”

In an attempt to find out which of our other two choices for terminals was correct, we asked two British Air employees where US Air flew out of. One indicated a different airport. After we made minor protests about flying in to Heathrow, the second lady told us Terminal 4. Good. We headed back to the elevator bank. One set was for the Tube, and the other was for the express train to the city. Neither seemed like a good bet for an inter-terminal rail line, so we asked a custodian nearby. She expressed some confusion, then hazarded a guess we would want the train line. So, we got into that elevator with another man who, turns out, had missed his flight and was trying to get to Terminal 1. He had wandered the airport for several minutes trying to find a way out of Terminal 5. He also complained about the lack of signs. We mentioned our dilemma of trying to find US Air, and he said he thought we needed Terminal 1. Oh oh. We rode the elevator down one level, and we waited to go down one more level to the trains. The elevator then went back up. Huh. After some muttering on all three of our parts, we went down one floor, and then successfully made it to the train level.

Mer and I started looking for signs for an inter-terminal rail line, and you will be shocked to hear we did not find any. We asked an employee about our terminal, for which she had to radio to another employee, who suggested Terminal 1. It would appear British Air is a bit fuzzy on the airlines of the colonies. Armed with our destination, we asked how we got there. They told us to wait for the city express. Since I did not want to go to the city, I asked again, and they told us to sit in the front of the train when it got there. In 10 minutes. You have a world-class airport, and your inter-terminal rail line is a commercial train line that runs only 4 times an hour? Amazing. We waited for the train to pull up and for the people to get off. We filed on. We were then shooed off by a train worker, because the train was not ready for boarding yet. 30 seconds later, they announced we could get on. We got back on. After a few more minutes, we rolled out of Terminal 5 and headed to Terminals 1,2, and 3. The train was quiet and comfortable, and they did not charge us for the trip (thank goodness!). We got out at Terminal 1. All the fun we had in finding and getting to our correct destination made me grateful we were somewhere that used English. I cannot imagine how we would have found our way if we did not speak the language. Between lack of signs and confusing layouts and weird transit schedules, foreign travelers must get very confused.

Our checking-in process went well and quickly, and the only hiccup we had was Mer forgot she had water in her water bottle, which is a no-no she likes to try most times in security. Once the water was dumped in a nearby bathroom, we breezed through security – I was even able to leave my laptop in my backpack.

Once on the other side, we looked for our flight gate. Apparently  Heathrow is guided by whimsy, because any flight that was more than 90 minutes out had no gate. I guess you get a gate when you need one, and not before. Mer settled down with the backpacks, and I went in search of food. I quickly returned because I had found a restaurant that served real breakfasts, and we still had over two hours to go before our flight. We had a nice breakfast there (including the mandatory nice but foreign waitress – where do the English work?). After breakfast, we still had a few minutes before we were told what the gate lottery results were, so I took the opportunity to spend most of my remaining pounds on chocolate in the airport store.

We found our gate number and headed in that direction. We came to a sign warning about how there were few bathroom facilities past that point, so we turned around and used the restrooms. We went on, and went through a second security checkpoint, and got settled in at the gate. After a short bit, I decided that with a nine-hour flight ahead of me, I should use the bathroom one more time, and prepared to walk back to the central area. I saw a bathroom symbol near our gate, and investigated. It led to a huge, well-stocked, and fully functional bathroom. It appears that when Heathrow does put up a sign, you may need to be careful about believing it.

We still had about 30 minutes before we could board, so I used a pound coin on a nearby massage chair. It actually worked pretty well, and helped loosen the knots in my back. I gave my last pound coin to Mer so she could try it. With that, we were able to board.

Our flight took off a little late, and on the far end in Philly we had to circle a bit because of backup from a wind storm that had come through. All in all, it was about a 9.5-hour flight, which is a long time for me and my back. Mer graded for most of the flight, and I passed the time as best I could. I read some of Fitzgerald’s short stories, then I watched Iron Man because I could. Then I watched Indiana Jones and Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Wow. The only way I can recommend this film is if it is free and you are trapped in an airplane. What. A. Bad. Film. Ewwwwwww. Even Harrison Ford could not save this film from being unbelievable most of the time and boring for much of the time. I vastly enjoyed seeing Iron Man for the second time much more than seeing the Kingdom of the Crystal Bore.

We got into Philly, and because of getting in about an hour late, Mer and I were concerned about our flight to Cleveland – we only had about an hour to get to the gate (which was well labeled on a nearby monitor). Since we were near the front of the plane, we got through customs quickly, and went to retrieve our luggage.

Now, we are not total fools. Since Mer’s suitcase had fallen apart on the way to London, we did not pack anything in the main section of her suitcase. We crammed most of our things into my suitcase for safe keeping. The luggage carousel soon started regurgitating suitcases, so I took up my position to retrieve our things in an efficient manner so we could make our connection. I waited. Suitcases went by. I waited. More suitcases went by. I waited. The same suitcases went by again. After a very long time, Mer’s suitcase appeared. Success! Mine would surely be coming behind. I waited. And waited. And waited. A nearby baggage handler asked me what my suitcase looked like, and I described it. He looked at the 4 bags left on the belt, and shook his head. He asked where I had come from, and upon hearing that I had come from Heathrow, he told me that Heathrow messes up luggage all the time. So, Mer and I went to the baggage office and filed our second luggage report of the trip.

Once we were back underway, with Mer’s nearly empty bag now re-checked for a domestic flight, we hustled toward the most distant terminal in Philly, from which our flight was to depart. We were going to be pushing things very closely, and the monitors all indicated an on-time flight. Happily, Mer saw a sign for a Terminal-toTerminal bus (that ran every 2-3 minutes! Ha!), and we jumped on that. We got to our gate just at the scheduled take-off time. I breathlessly asked the attendant if we had missed the flight to Cleveland, and she gave me a bit of a funny look. She indicated the plane was not even at the airport yet. In the 5 minutes we were on the bus, the plane had gone from “on time” to a delayed flight. This is a slight pet peeve of mine. Airports are pulling this stunt more and more in my experience – they are posting a flight as on time right up until it is supposed to take off, even if the plane is still in Chicago. Still, I should be grateful – the delay made it sure that we would make our flight back to Cleveland.

The remainder of the trip was without incident – we got to Cleveland just a bit late, and the car was there and started, and we got home at 9:30 pm, just 18 hours or so after leaving the hotel in the Docklands. Weird.

Some general musings, in no real order:
London’s (and Paris’s, for that matter) subway system puts our mass transit to shame. The Tube is easy to use, and goes everywhere. You don’t have to go downtown and then go back out to the suburbs – you just take a direct line. We could learn a lot from the Tube.

Heathrow needs to be more user-friendly.

The British are wonderfully non-American in consumer areas. The stores in the malls were closing at 5:00 and 6:00 on Friday and Saturday heading into the holiday season. And one evening, Mer and I bought a “plain chocolate chip” cookie. Tell me where in America you would ever use the word “plain” to describe anything for sale.

Pedestrian bridges are pretty and pretty useful. Chicago should take note.

Londoners seem pretty friendly and helpful.

In five days of being in London, we only saw one beggar and one homeless man. I do not know where all the homeless are, but somehow the British keep them away from the tourist areas.

London is amazingly cosmopolitan. I really do think that at least half of all people we interacted with in London were not English.

Travel is good. We were watching a Doctor Who tonight that had a climatic battle on Canary Wharf, probably two blocks from out hotel. We recently watched the Bourne Ultimatum, some of which took place in Tube stations and in London. It is really cool to get excited about looking for places we have been. Travel often!

Day 5 – Sunday, Nov. 30th – last full day in London

Mer had us directly on the Tube on a different line from the Jubilee, so no mall-cafe breakfast this day. We were trying to get to the Tower about the time it opened. This would allow us to see other sights in the afternoon, and it would also let us beat crowds. We figured we could grab food on the way from the Tube to the the Tower, and we were correct. We found a Starbucks and ducked in for a hot chocolate and breakfast pastries. It seems to me that there is about one Starbucks every two blocks in England, probably by law. Some tourist places have even more – St. Paul’s has a Starbucks on the square at each end of the church so that you don’t get exhausted walking the one block from one Starbucks to the next. It really is amazing. Still, the Starbucks stop did the trick, and we continued on our several-block walk to the Tower.

For those who do not know (and I used to be one), the Tower is actually a whole castle complex surrounding the original keep. I always used to picture just a tower, with maybe a moat. Nope – it’s a castle, and the moat is dry and now houses an ice skating rink. I think there used to be one main tower, and maybe that is where the name came from – I get a little sketchy on the history of the Tower. I think it was built around 1067 by William the Conqueror as a reminder to the locals as to who was in charge. In the 1,000 years since, it has been modified a few times, so it gets confusing to keep track of it without a history book.

We queued/lined up for our tickets, and discovered we were behind a group of Italians. Oddly, in cold, dreary, rainy London in late November, there were Italian tourists everywhere we went (except Starbucks – I expect a real Italian would not be caught in a Starbucks). The Italians were loud and enthusiastic, and, of course, looked good. Italians, both men and women, somehow manage to put themselves together, even when being tourists in a cold and rainy country. We got our tickets and proceeded to the entrance of the Tower. On the way, I smiled at an Italian man yelling at his son to come for a picture. The boy was busy trying to kick a pigeon one instant, and then was looking sweet for a picture the next. Boys will be boys, even when Italians in England.

We entered at the drawbridge, which allowed a good view of the ice rink. The ice rink made me happy. It seemed like a good use for a moat. We made our way into the Tower, and made a beeline toward the building that houses the Crown Jewels. Mer’s ever-present Rick warned that the line for the jewels can become very long, and recommended going straight there. Obediently, that is what we did. Along the way, we walked up on an unkindness of ravens. I figured they would move out of the way, and most did. One stalwart fellow would not move, and squawked at me right from my feet. I was very startled – it was a really big bird, and by the time I recovered my wits enough to think about a picture, the raven had wandered away –  “a picture nevermore,” quoth he (I was able to get a picture of some ravens later in the day).

It began to gently rain, and so we continued on to the crown jewel building. We walked right in, and discovered an elaborate Disney-esque line system that wound back and forth through several rooms. Each of the rooms had films telling about the history of the Crown Jewels, but we flew by these to get to the real thing. We basically wandered right up to the display area.

Mer had seen them before when she was about 7. She had remembered them being in a basement vault-type room, but now the jewels are displayed well in glass cases with moving walkways on either side of them. Mer inquired of a very helpful guard, and he confirmed they used to be in a vault, but it was not a good space to display them, especially for the handicapped. He proceeded to tell us about the jewels in the crowns (including the largest cut diamond in the world), and some of the history of the crowns. There are several crowns on display. The main crown is worn by the monarch for just 20 minutes on his or her coronation day, and then is put back on display until the next coronation. There is a (slightly) less elaborate crown that is ceremonial and is used by the monarch to do official things, like opening Parliament. I asked the guard how they moved the crowns since they are priceless. He told me in great detail, and it was amazing, but I was sworn to secrecy. Actually, and not surprisingly, they are not allowed to talk about moving the jewels.

Mer and I went back and forth on the moving walkways several times. The Crown Jewels really are beautiful. Being American, I do not like or approve of monarchies, but even I had to admit the pomp that these crowns and garments would instill would be very impressive.

We finished in the updated vault area by looking at other treasures, including a huge gold punchbowl and serving implements, and wandered outside. It was a soft day, as the Irish would say – a gentle rain was falling steadily now. After a bathroom stop, we headed to the main keep section of the Tower complex. This was used as an armory in the 15th and 16th centuries, and now displays arms and armor, including Henry the 8th’s armor from when he was fat and old, with a famously large codpiece. There was also a suit of armor for a huge man (I think he was 6’8″ or something like that – it was really big). One room had some interactive displays, including a chance to see what it would look like looking through a visor in armor (you can’t see anything), and a display on pulling back a longbow (not too hard) and a display on handling a sword, which got heavy in a hurry. There was lots to see and read, but we mostly blew through just taking in the general atmosphere. We both liked a small chapel that is in the keep – it was simple and quiet, and probably could only hold about 20 people.

We then headed over to what I think is the Tower proper, but I’m not sure. It is the cell rooms that Sir Walter Raleigh occupied when he was in the Tower, and a room that is dedicated to the two crown princes who disappeared from the Tower under the reign of Richard III, and presents various theories as to what happened to them. These rooms were interesting, and I liked the narrow windy staircases to the second-floor rooms.

We headed on over to an old palace section where one of the early kings kept his residence (Edward? 1200s?). There were rooms describing how the Tower probably looked at the time, and the history of the king at the time. It was interesting looking, but we pushed through, since we did not have lots of time. We did take a few minutes in one room that had actors in character from the period (except they did speak modern English). I was delighted when they singled Meredith out because of her enormous coat. The coat never lacks for comment, even from 13th-century nobles! They inquired into the origin of the coat, and Mer gave me credit for killing and skinning a snow leopard. One of the nobles rebuked me for working on the coat on the Sabbath, but the other noble pointed out that I could not hunt, kill, skin, and make the coat in one day, and so probably had not made the coat that day. They were playing some game that involved lining up pieces of colored stones, but I did not quite follow it. Mer asked if they should be playing a game on the Sabbath, and the actor looked uncomfortable and explained they were not gambling, and which point a period lady exclaimed she would wager a ring on the noble’s victory. It was quite delightful.

We headed out on to the walls to wander around them, and we took them halfway around the castle. You could get great views of the Tower Bridge, which everyone (including me) always thinks is London Bridge, but it is not. It also surprised me to find out that the Tower Bridge is fairly new – it is a drawbridge from the late 19th century, but looks (to me) to be much older. It is pretty cool.

We could not get a guided tour (they do not run them in the rain for safety issues), so we decided to leave the Tower and head off toward the reconstruction of Shakespeare’s Globe Theater. I asked Mer if we could walk, and cross using the Tower Bridge, and she gamely agreed. Even though I am scared of heights, I like climbing things, and I was looking forward to crossing the upper level of the bridge. Sadly, the upper level was closed for repair work, so I had to satisfy myself with just getting to cross the bridge.

It turns out the Globe is a bit of a hike from the Tower, but it was nice to walk in London for a decent amount instead of Tubing everywhere. We got to see a cool church along the way, and we saw a recreation of the Golden Hind, the ship Sir Francis Drake used to go around the world. It was stunningly small. It is amazing they did not all go crazy on the ship. We made it to the Globe and paid for admission to the museum section. A tour was leaving shortly, so we rested (for my back) while watching local college kids learn stage sword fighting. It was interesting to watch. Our tour commenced with a group of about 20, and our tour guide was a funny older lady who loved the Globe. She even bought a square in the pavement for her name (as part of a fundraiser), but could not show it to us because it was under scaffolding – the Globe thatched roof was being repaired (the first and only thatched roof in London since the great fire of 1666). We went into the theater, and sat in the benches and listened to stories of the theater, The theater can hold about 1600 people, 600 of whom stand on the main floor (they are called “groundlings”). Last season, the director staged a sword fight among the groundlings, who simply had to get out of the way. It must have been pretty exciting. Groundlings can lean on the stage, and occasionally can get commented on by the actors. The entire theater is lit at all times, so the actors can see the entire audience. It looks as if it would be some pretty intimate theater.  I would love to see a play there.

Shockingly, the tour ended at the gift shop. I decided to throw caution to the wind since I figured it would be awhile before we got back, and I ended up with about $150 worth of stuff for Mer’s classroom. So, you can see it was all for the kids at CVCA.

We did go back into the Globe museum, but my back was acting up again, and it was about 4:00, so we did not look around too much. We did take time to listen to some recordings of various actors doing famous speeches from Shakespeare. Most were good, but I would have thought some were parodies – the over-the-top, semi-pompous, rolling “r”s kind of Shakespeare that can be pretty mock-worthy. Still, many were fantastic, and some were amazing. What was funny is that the same actor could be silly-sounding in one role, and moving in another.

I wanted to catch an Advent service at St. Paul’s, which was just across the river, so we left and took the handy and cool pedestrian bridge and made our way back to the church. Along the way we met a very friendly man who was either slightly drunk or slightly mad, but he was kind enough to say hello and wanted to take a picture of us. He seemed pleasant enough, so I let him try. He got a picture of us with St. Paul’s in the background, but the picture was really blurry. He was quite proud of it. I’m still not sure if he was on the drink or just mad. He was very nice though.

We got to St. Paul’s at about 4:20, and I thought the service started at 5:00, so we joined the line/queue and waited. About 4:45 we heard the news that the doors opened at 5:00 and the service started at 6:00. Ooops. Still, I figured I would not get another chance to be at an Advent service at St. Paul’s again, so we stayed. We did get in at 5:00, and Mer and I headed to the front, hoping to sit under the dome. Sadly, you needed special tickets to get that far up front, but we did sit in the second row of free seats, which was still quite a ways in the church. By the time the service started, the church was full. I do not know how many people were there, but I am guessing it was well over 1000.

The service was beautiful. There was a large choir that moved all about the church. There were several congregational hymns and carols, including one of my favorites, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.” Roughly speaking, the service went “choral music, modern poetry reading, scripture reading or prayer, hymn” – and repeat several times. The service went for a little over an hour, and the acoustics were amazing again. I really am a big fan of St. Paul’s. As an added bonus, they opened the main doors to the church which are only used on special occasions. The doors are huge (about 30 feet tall), and it was wonderful to be able to look straight back into the church from outside. As we left, Mer commented on how while she loved New Baltimore Community Church, there is a part of her soul that loves formal liturgical services. I have to agree.

We were quite hungry at this point. I though about walking back to the Eye to ride the merry-go-round, but when I got to the river, I saw it was a long ways off. So, we popped into a pub to have a real English meal. It turns out the kitchen had closed, and since a supper of beer did not strike us as appetizing, we went back to the square around St. Paul’s and popped in to a pizza place for supper. Once again, we had some really good food, including dessert, and then we caught the Tube back home. Happily, I was able to catch a few minutes of American football on the TV while we got ready for bed.

Thus ended our last real day in London. We still had some Tubing to do to get to the airport, but that was all we were going to be able to do the next day. I think we did pretty well given the time we had!

Day 4 – Saturday

Saturday started off on the same plan – breakfast pastries and hot chocolate at Caffe Nero in the Tube mall area, except I got the added bonus of using the mall hotspot to find out that my nephew had been born on Friday! That was exciting.

We jumped on the Tube and headed off to the British Library. The British Library is the English equivalent of the Library of Congress – it gets every book, magazine, newspaper, etc. that is printed in the U.K., so in addition to having 600 million items in the library, they get another 8,000 a day to process. Talk about job security.

The Library is in an enormous new brick building that is very well done. It looks nice from the outside, and it has a large courtyard with an abstract Isaac Newton out front. The inside of the building was designed (with good success) to make the large spaces feel smaller and more comfortable. It does this through uses of different elevations and different ceiling levels. It works quite well.

We decided we wanted a paid guided tour of the Library, but we had a little time to kill, so we headed into the Library showcase area, where many of the rarest books are kept on rotating display. We only got to see a few manuscripts for some novels (Austen, anyone?) before we had to dash back to the front counter to get our tickets. We waited on a bench shaped like a book chained to a ball, which we found out was how books were kept in the old days when you did not want people walking off with your copy.

The tour group was about 10 people or so, and our tour guide was fantastic. I really wish I had gotten up the nerve to get a picture of her – I know that Jo would have loved this woman. She was in her early 20s, had on HUGE platform shoes with black and white striped socks (Cat-in-the-Hat style), and a few piercings, but she still came across as fun and even sweet. She had style! She also knew a ton about the Library. She gave us stories on the Library’s origins (the donation of private libraries of four men started the whole thing), the architecture (a huge building with a ship in mind, so many of the windows are round), the five basement levels that house 60% of the collection (the rest is scattered around London and the rest of England), and so on. She told of how most of the collection was moved in vans when the Library was moved about 10 years ago, but the rarest of items (the Magna Carta and such) could not be insured, so they were taken (very quietly) across London by staff in taxis.

We got to go into a staff room to see the spiffy book transport system. Most books can be put in trays and then sent off on computer controlled conveyors that run all through the building. The computer can bypass traffic jams in the system, and can track books throughout the system as well. It is miles and miles long, and was pretty nifty to see.

Our tour included looking at the outside of the central space where the library of one of the former king is housed – it was originally going to be space for card catalogs, but by the time the building was built, computers had taken over that task (except, oddly, for one reading room – Africa and Asian Studies – where they still have a card catalog for the older people who prefer cards) and so they converted the space to display the king’s books. You can actually request any book in the library – even ancient ones if you can prove you need the original (for paper analysis or the like). Anyone can get a card, with the card lasting roughly the estimated time you will need it – a few weeks for a visiting tourist though several years for a PhD candidate.

After the tour, we went back to the rare book collection. The have original manuscripts and printings from earliest surviving Bibles to Shakespeare’s signature to scrawled Beatles lyrics on a napkin. It is quite an impressive collection. They also have two copies of the Magna Carta, but the better copy was in another display area temporarily, so we had to make do with one that was illegible to me.

We did make the required stop at the gift shop, where Mer escaped with me just buying one CD set of some famous Shakespearean speeches.

After the British Library, we made our way (via Tube, of course) to St. Paul’s. What a wonderful cathedral. The current St. Paul’s was built after the Great Fire of 1666, and it is superb. It is harmonious inside – none of the maze-like feeling of Westminster. The central space opens into the smaller inside dome, and it gives the space an open feel. I really loved this church.

We picked up the audio self-tour, and (per Rick Steves’s instructions), we went up into the Whispering Gallery up in the dome. The Gallery is called Whispering because if you whisper next to the dome wall on one side of the gallery, the sound is supposed to travel all the way around the inside of the dome to your friend on the other side of the dome. We never found out. The Whispering Gallery is the lowest section of the dome, but is still very high up. You are right up next to the paintings of the life of St. Paul. That is cool. What is not cool is the fact that you are on a small sidewalk-esque area with a guardrail, and lots of empty space. I sat in the Gallery as long as I could stand it (about 3-5 minutes), and then I went back down the “up” stairs since the “down” stairs were on the other side of the dome. Mer turned to whisper to me only to find that I had gone. Mer went on to the next level of the dome, which was higher still, and eventually met me sitting on a bench safely on a landing of the stairs going down.

We toured the main level. Sadly (from a harmony perspective), there is an obscenely huge and elaborate tomb on one side of the main floor – I can’t even tell you whose it is. The audio guides did an admirable job in my opinion – they welcomed people of all faiths (or none), and then went on to explain what the church meant to those of the Christian faith. It was a nice balance of presenting what Christians believe without being in-your-face about it.

The church has a commitment to bringing in contemporary Christian art, to extend the long tradition of Christian artist. The were two large painting right as you came to the dome area, and near the alter was a modern take on Mary with Jesus as a child – just two curved stones suggesting a mother and child. It was well done.

The back of the church had been bombed during WW 2 – the only part of the church that was lost. It was rebuilt with a new altar in the design that had been originally drawn up by the architect, Christopher Wren, but that had not originally been built. So, Wren got the altar he wanted after all. Behind the altar, a small space was set apart as a chapel in memory of the Americans who died fighting in England. It was very touching, and I liked it very much.

After the main floor, we followed our audio guides downstairs to the crypt. Even the crypt has high ceilings and so does not feel crowded. There are famous people buried here (Lord Nelson and Florence Nightingale), and they continue to honor people here. There was a plaque on the wall in memory of a member of the St. Paul’s society who had died in the World Trade Center on 9/11.

We finished our tour as the afternoon approached 5:00, and while Meredith was in the restroom, I watched two small and cute girls skipping around the crypt. Two girls skipping happily over dead people’s tombs was a happy and healthy reminder that life goes on.

We decided to stay at St. Paul’s for the 5:00 Evensong service (after flipping a coin – St. Paul’s versus going to dinner). We sat under the dome, and we even got to sing a few hymns! So now I can drop into conversations, “When I sang at St. Paul’s in London….” The music was wonderful – the acoustics were tremendous, and the church was beautiful. I loved it – even better than Westminster. I even decided that if we were going to go to an Advent service on Sunday (which both churches were having), we would go to St. Paul’s (unless we were right at Westminster on Sunday – Mer was in charge of locations and times).

After the service, we Tubed it back to Victoria Station so we could get our long-sought-after bus tour of London  by night. We had a little time, and our breakfast had run thin, so we grabbed a quick snack at KFC in the station’s mall. We figured it would hold us until after the hour-long tour, and then we could get a real meal.

We were first in line when the bus pulled up. True to American form, we both thought at first that the bus had pulled up in such a way as we were going to have to cross in front of it, but that wasn’t so. Those wacky Brits and their right-hand driver’s seats! We climbed on board and paid for the trip, and headed straight up to the upper level and took the front seats. We could look right outside the bus – in fact, it turned out to be a strange perspective. Since we were in front above the driver, it kept looking as if we were going to hit things. We never did, but we both wondered how we missed things.

The snack was a wise idea, because it turns out the tour was two hours long. It went all over London – through the shopping district, by Parliament, across London Bridge, over by the Eye, across Tower Bridge, by the Tower, over by St. Paul’s, and through the old city of London. It was neat to take the trip after we had been Tubing around London for a few days. On the Tube, you just sort of “pop up” from place to place. I never had a good feeling for where things were in relation to each other. The bus tour took us by all the familiar places, and helped me tie the city together. The only slight downside to the tour was it was cold outside, so our window fogged up some, and the last 1/3 of the tour was in rain, which cut down on some of the visibility. Our driver was also our tour guide, and did an okay job – he was a little wry, and I appreciated his humor.

As the bus pulled into Victoria Station, I caught a glimpse of a Spaghetti House restaurant. Since I had enjoyed it so much a few nights before, we went to this different one for dinner. We both got pizzas, and just beat out closing. Our waiter seemed to be the manager, and was another real Italian, although when we talked with him, he said most of the people at the restaurant were foreigners, but not Italians. It really is amazing how many non-British there are in London! Our waiter/manager also kept letting people in after closing, so he seemed to be a pretty nice guy as well. We ordered dessert, and our Italian wanted to know why Americans always get dessert after dinner (I think Italians take it mid-day). We did not have a great answer, but Mer proposed that it was so we could end on a high note. It was a satisfying meal.

After supper, we walked back to the station and grabbed a Tube line for home. Another successful day of touring in London.

Day 3 – Friday

We started Friday off in much the same way as we had Thursday – a breakfast at Caffe Nero consisting of pastries and hot chocolate and people watching. We then jumped on the Tube and took it to Trafalgar Square. It was a bit rainy out, but it was light enough that we could see (and take a picture of) the column with Lord Nelson on top. We did not linger in the cool and wet, but proceeded to a side entrance of the National Gallery.

The National Gallery is a free art museum dedicated to paintings. It is quite immense, and we did not see a whole lot of it, even though we were there over two hours. We started off by following the advice of the other man in Mer’s life, Rick Steves. Mer had wisely invested in a copy of Rick Steves’ London before we went, and he gave a layout to see major works in the museum. We saw a few impressive paintings, but wanted to make it back to the entrance in time for a free guided tour.
 
The tour was given by the quintessential older British tour guide. He had white hair, a blazer and jacket, and a very quirky sense of humor (humour). He was quite good at keeping our attention and at explaining what was going on in the paintings we looked at. He talked about color choices and balance and open and closed figures. He showed us examples of how things changed over time, and showed us how paintings displayed the passage of time in the subject matter. We looked at a total of five paintings in an hour, and it was very good. I am not always a huge fan of paintings (I prefer sculpture in museums), but his talk made the art make much more sense and I quite liked it.

Of all the art work we saw, I was really taken by two, one of which was Filippino Lippi’s Virgin and Child with Saints Domini and Jerome. Most of the work is very fine, but what captivated me was Mary’s face. It was probably the most human face of any painting of Mary I had ever seen. It was remarkable – as Mer put it, she seems to be a young girl who loves the child she is feeding, and that is the moment the painter caught. The other painting that grabbed my eye was Zurbaran’s St. Francis in Meditation. The paining was very dark, and the use of shadows made the face (what you can see of it) stand out. It really just jumped out at me. What a great painting.

We left the National Gallery a little after noon, and made our way to the adjacent St.- Martin-in-the-Fields church. This church is famous for helping the poor and for recording great music. We thought it would be a good place to check out for lunch in the now-expected crypt cafe. The cafe was very crowded – we considered ourselves to be lucky to find a table. The food was cafeteria-style, and it was fine, but the more memorable thing to me was eating and chatting in a crypt. The church floor had in-floor tombs, and there were tables set over them. I think I’d be okay with people eating over me after I’m dead, but it struck me certainly as unusual (not a practice I have seen in the States!).

After lunch we took a few minutes to wander around the church. There was a small chapel down one level from the crypt, and as such I was expecting an ancient hole in the wall where you could pray. I was delightfully surprised to find a small and quiet, but very modern and well-lit, chapel capable of holding about 25 people. They served communion there several times a week, and I wish I could have been at a service – I think it would have been very moving.

After the chapel, we popped upstairs to look at the famous church. Again, it surprised me. I had expected another ancient-style cathedral church, but St.-Martin-in-the-Fields is a beautiful, airy, modern church that is tastefully done. Mer and I spent several minutes just sitting in a pew and soaking it all in. Again, I’ll bet a worship service in this church is something to behold.

We jumped back on the Tube and headed to the British Museum, which is another free museum. This one houses historical artifacts, art, and antiquities that are world famous, including the Rosetta Stone (the first stone that had Egyptian and Greek and Latin on it that allowed scholars to decipher Egyptian hieroglyphs). Once inside the building, you proceed to what is the largest covered public square in England – it is enormous. The famous reading room is in the middle of the court (where Marx wrote), but the famous British Library that used to take up the space of the courtyard was moved out in the nineties, freeing up this extraordinary space.

We decided it would be worthwhile to pay for a small-group guided tour, and that was well worth it. Our guide was very knowledgeable and personable. We started out tour by looking at ancient Egyptian sculpture – a head of a statue of a Pharaoh, his arm and hand (oddly), and a touching sculpture of an Egyptian couple holding hands. We then wandered over to look at ancient Assyrian art. We were shown the gate guardians of a major city, which were huge. The guide told us they were discovered by the French, but were too big to move. So, England asked if they could have them, and when told they could, they cut them into quarters and shipped them home. You can see the cuts in the statues if you look for them. The room behind had some impressive bas-reliefs of the Assyrian king on a lion hunt. There were hundreds of figures, and lots of lions everywhere (sadly, in the midst of being killed). Because the king could not be put in too much danger, the lions were wounded before being released from cages, and amazingly that is shown in the mural as well.

We left Assyria and made our way to Greece and the Parthenon. There was a small-scale model of the original temple, and then we were shown the figures that used to adorn the temple near the roof line, all around the structure. Here is an interesting bit of history and politics: in the 1800s a British man went with some artists to sketch the figures, and he saw them being ground up by locals to make concrete. He asked the officials of the Ottoman Empire if he could save the statues, and was given permission to do so. He brought them home, upon which the British officials looked into the matter to see if what he had done was legal. They determined all was well, and the pieces ended up in the British Museum. Now, over 100 years later, the Greek government wants them back. It is such a political issue that the museum guides are not allowed to talk about it, but can only give you a pamphlet explaining both sides.

Anyway, the figures that are in the museum are quite remarkable. They are very accurate, and match in quality what modern sculptors of the human body have managed. And all this was done 2500 years ago. Not too bad for lacking power tools!

After Greece, we made a detour back to Egypt to look at mummies. Our guide went over the history of mummification and some of the process behind it. We looked at the shrouds and outer sarcophagi of several burial sites. Most were very well preserved. Oh – and the museum has never unwrapped a mummy, but it does do CAT scans on them from time to time to get an idea of what the person may have looked like.

Our guide then pointed us toward Roman Britain, but had to leave us at that point. We wandered through that section, and made our way to the Anglo-Saxons so that Meredith could see some of the artwork that is in her textbook accompanying the epic poem Beowulf. Having found her helmet and shield, we made our way out through a display on clocks and time pieces, and made our way back out into the evening air.

We continued out multicultural dining experience by eating at a Thai restaurant near the museum. It again was quite good and hearty, but the desserts were merely okay.

We Tubed it over toward our next destination, which after a healthy walk turned out to be the Tate Modern Art Museum. Mer was a trooper, I have to say. My back had gotten messed up on the plane, and I was in a lot of pain going in to our third museum of the day. I was having a hard time walking, so I was not in a great mood. Add to that the fact that I strongly dislike modern art that fails the “Matt Test,” and you do not have a recipe for a good time. To my credit, I tried to behave, and Mer put up with my sudden air of indignation.

If you are wondering, the “Matt  Test” for art is simply the answer to “Could I have done that?” If the answer is yes, 95% of the time I will not consider it art. If the answer is no, I give it a chance. I do like some modern art – I usually like modern religious art (no, not Thomas Kinkade!), and I like modern sculpture and some painting. I also have no patience for art that is clearly just being “artsy” – the art films (ALWAYS shot in black and white with random soundtracks) usually fall into this category. My least favorite works in the museum were (I’m not joking) a two-deep pile of bricks, which were next to another “work” of three framed but blank canvasses. No offense to the artists, but come on. Way to fail the Matt Test with flying colors. I also don’t buy the “But they had to think of it” argument that is sometimes bandied about. At any given moment, I can describe to you an original art piece that I can make symbolize something grand sounding, and I have no training. Test me on this sometime – it’s fun!

I did like a sculpture by Picasso that was a study for one of his paintings. I liked quite a few of the paintings from the 20s and 30s. I liked a piece called “30 pieces of silver” where squashed silver was hung from the ceiling to within six inches of the floor.

I finally had to give up and rest my back and my indignation, but Meredith went on. Apparently I missed the modern art sex room and and modern art violence room. Somehow, I do not feel I missed much.

We took the Tube back home to the Docklands. A burger joint was still open (it was 10ish), and so I got what turned out to be really good fries (chips) and a very bland shake. I ate these back in the room while listening to the iPod playing Christmas music through the hotel alarm clock (which had an auxiliary-in port). And so we closed out day 3 of our English holiday.

England Day 2 – Thanksgiving (Thursday)

We rolled out of the hotel around 8:30 for the start of what may been our busiest day of touring. We headed to the Meredith-discovered aptly named Jubilee Line of the Tube. This line would allow us to avoid the above-ground (with the 8-story stair climb) transfer of the DLR (Docklands Light Rail) line. As a bonus, the best way to the Jubilee Line was across a spiffy pedestrian bridge, and then through a mall-in-a-basement. This was a good-sized mall, but all below ground. It had several coffee shops, and we settled on one that was not the really ubiquitous Starbucks, Caffe Nero. We ate breakfast there three days in a row. They had good pastries and muffins, and I had a couple of quite good hot chocolates over the three days. It also had the small bonus of being within range of a free wi-fi spot, so I was able to use my Touch to get on the internet to check on things (since my sister was expecting her second child, I wanted to check as often as I could).

The mall was a major people-watching point. Since we were at the cafe just before 9:00, we saw all kinds of business types streaming from the Tube stops, and stopping to buy coffee. The style for the women looked quite good – long black jacket over a skirt that stopped above the knees, with black hose tucked into tall boots. I’m not sure if this style has hit Chicago, but it has not come to Cuyahoga Falls yet. The style did change on the weekend – it became a long coat over jeans tucked into boots. It was pretty surprising what a high percentage of women had this look going.

I’m beginning to wonder if the faster pace of urban living keeps people skinny. When I lived in Chicago, I rarely saw fat people. In the five days of being all over London, we only ever saw one fat person. This may also have to do with age – London seems to have a youthful population. I would say that at least 3/4 of the people we saw were in their 20s or 30s.

Once we had munched on our breakfast pastries (one-and-a-half each), we jumped on the Tube and took it to go see Westminster Abbey. We strolled around a good chunk of the outside of this enormous church before we found the north entrance where you are supposed to enter. The only problem is that the door was closed. It turns out that the Abbey opened late on Thursdays, so Meredith nimbly changed gears and direction (zeugma). We headed off on the three-block walk to the Cabinet War Rooms and Winston Churchill Museum.

The War Rooms are the subterranean rooms in which Churchill and the cabinet met during air raids. It was also staffed with officers charged with keeping intelligence on the war. The rooms have been restored to how they were in 1945 (I think some rooms had been left as they were and some were used for storage). The large room used as quarters for many of the officers stationed there was remodeled to house the excellent Winston Churchill Museum. You enter into the bunker, and tour six rooms before you get to the Churchill Museum. After that, you can continue the tour through the rest of the war rooms (another dozen or so rooms).

One of the surprises of the tour was a special exhibit on, of all things, the British postal service during World War 1. This is a topic I have never even thought of, but in the middle of the bunker was a room set off for this display. It was actually quite interesting. It told the history of how post was organized to get mail to the front lines (usually in two days), and of how men were encouraged to sign up, sometimes in the Post Office Regiment. The shortage of men in the post office led to the hiring of women to help with the duties. It really was quite well done.

The Winston Churchill Museum is only a few years old, and so it makes great use of its limited space. Once side of the room has photos of Churchill in various places, and as you step in front of the photo, you trip a beam and the system plays the speech that Churchill gave in that place. There are interactive displays where  you can explore how Churchill built speeches, and displays on historical events that shaped Churchill. The museum covered pretty much everything from Churchill’s life:  his birth and childhood, his early military career that led to his political career, his exit from politics due to a failed invasion of Turkey for which he was blamed, his re-entry into the military in WW1, his return to politics, his warning about Hitler in the 30s, his rise to becoming Prime Minister and the war years, and his defeat in the PM election at the end of the war. The displays continued with his writing career and his return to being PM again, his staunch anti-communist stand, and finally, his death. The centerpiece of the museum is an interactive screen where you can touch any year in Churchill’s life and get a summary of what went on that year. It really is a very good museum, and Mer and I spent about two hours there.

After the museum, we went back into the War Rooms to finish the tour. The last bit of the bunker was crowded – it consisted of small bedrooms for high-ranking officers, a small kitchen and dining room for Churchill, a small bedroom for Churchill’s wife (which she only used three times), Churchill’s rooms, and the secondary and primary map rooms. The maps were interesting because you can still see the pinholes where pins were inserted to keep track of convoys. These rooms were largely left untouched after the war – the museum people even found rationed sugar cubes in one desk drawer when they opened it in the 70s.

The gift store had lots of 40s stuff in it, and was interesting. My favorite poster was a poster warning the public to keep quiet on the issues of the war so as not to accidentally give information away. The caption of the poster was “Be like Dad – Keep Mum.”

We left the War Rooms behind and headed back in the direction of Westminster. On the way, we ducked into the Wesley Cafe (heaven only knows what Wesley would think of that) in the Methodist Center. We got a water and hot chocolate (for Mer and me), and we rested for a few minutes. Somewhat refreshed, we continued on to the Abbey.

Westminster is huge. It is a bit chaotic feeling to me, though, because there are all kinds of nooks and crannies and little rooms all over the place. Most of these places have dead people in them. Westminster is where famous English people get buried, and you can see the tomb of Edward the Confessor, who died an amazing 1000 years ago (in 1065). All of the English royalty is buried there. There are lots of well-connected people who were buried in the floor, and so you end up walking over the slabs that are in effect the tombstones. My favorite tomb by far was one tucked off in a hallway by itself – it was the grave of the plumber for the Abbey from the 1700s. That made me smile – this plumber with the great figures of England. The coronation chair is kept in the Abbey when not in use, which is most of the time. It is the chair Edward the First used in the 1300s, and it has been used ever since. It is also covered in graffiti, courtesy of the schoolboys of the Westminster school in the eighteenth century – so much for respect of antiquity. It has been used by British monarchs ever since.

We looked at all the royal tombs, and we had to trek over to the Poets’ Corner where many of England’s great writers are buried (but not Shakespeare – there is a statue to him, but he is buried in Stratford). We could not get into the gardens – they were closed for the evening; it turns out that some members of the Abbey live at the church, and so the garden is closed early to give them some privacy. We checked out some of the other outlying areas of the Abbey including a small, old room that used to be a treasury, and a small chapel space that was quite nice (and quiet). There was also a gift shop/small museum that had some of the monarchs’ wax effigies on display. We tried to find the science corner (where Newton is buried), but could not find it, and it was getting late.

The Abbey has Evensong every night of the week, and we decided to stay for it. How often do you get to hear a service in a great church? I overheard someone saying that if you were near the front of the line you could sit with the choir in the quire (the place where the choir sits and sings from). So, I lined up 30 minutes early, and Meredith went off to find a bathroom as directed by the American couple behind us. While she was gone, I got to chatting with the couple. They were from South Carolina, and the man was a lawyer and the woman a teacher. They asked after what Mer and I did, and I told them we were at CVCA. The man was originally from Cleveland, and after some more discussion, we found out that he is the cousin to the woman who does payroll at CVCA. Small world. In a small irony, you had four Evangelical Christians waiting to go to Evensong at Westminster, and we looked down and saw we were standing on Darwin’s grave. We had found the scientists’ corner of the Abbey! Small world indeed. It turns out that the South Carolina couple had had their passports stolen and the American embassy was closed on Thanksgiving. They still seemed to be enjoying their stay, and I hope they were able to get things taken care of on Friday.

The service opened, and we were allowed inside the main part of the church. We did get to sit in the quire, and that was quite exciting for me – it is not often you worship in a great church, let alone be with the choir in one. The choir and ministers came in, and Meredith confessed to me later that when she saw the boys in their robes and frilly collars, her first thought was of the book Lord of the Flies. This thought did not occur to me, although I can certainly see where she was coming from.

The service was lovely, and the acoustics were spine-tingling. I’m only sad that there was no congregational singing – I wanted to casually drop into conversations that I had sung in Westminster and leave it vague. The prayer time was very touching. The minster prayed for America’s Thanksgiving (not celebrated in Britain), for the president and president-elect, and that America would be a leading force for freedom around the world. I was quite touched – I can’t say I have ever heard anyone pray for the Queen or for England on this side of the pond.

We left the Abbey a little after 6:00, and we headed to Victoria Station using our ever-handy Tube passes. We wanted to get a double-decker bus tour of London by night, and those left from the station at 7:30. We did need some food first, so we went to a Chinese place nearby, and had some good and hearty food that was also fairly cheap. I have to confess that after trying to use chopsticks for about one minute, I gave in to using a fork. We finished up our meal and headed back to the station, only to find we had just missed the tour. We had known it was going to be close, so we were not too surprised. We figured we’d catch it the next day, and so we jumped back on the Tube and went back to the Big Ben/Parliament/Westminster area. It was time to stare at the Eye.

The Eye is an attraction that London put up for the Millennium celebration. It is an enormous Ferris Wheel, which is so large the operators call it an “observation wheel.” Regardless, it is the largest in the world. It is the highest observation point in London at 135 meters (443 feet), and it takes a full 30 minutes to go around. The wheel has wire spokes instead of steel beams (like a giant bicycle wheel), and so it gives a very convincing profile of being just a giant rim. Needless to say, Mer wanted to go on this, and we sneaked in just at 8:00 (last “flight” was at 8:00). The room you get in is enclosed on all sides – it is like an oval bubble, and it looked as if it could hold about 30 people comfortably. In fact, the carriage ahead of us was full of suit-clad business people, complete with picnic baskets and champagne glasses.

The Eye is remarkably smooth – there is no sensation of movement at all. In fact, once we got two-thirds of the  way up, I could not tell we were moving at all because the nearby objects had fallen away. For about 5 scared-of-heights minutes, I was convinced we had stopped and were going to be in air longer than 30 minutes. Happily, that was an illusion, and we never stopped moving. For the top one-third of the ride, I needed to stay seated on the bench in the middle of the car, and occasionally had to look at my feet to stop from being scared. Once the nearby objects came back and I could see motion, I was able to stand, but not too closely to the glass. The night scene of London was very pretty, and you could see lights in all directions. I especially liked looking down on the Thames and on Big Ben/Parliament.
 
After we got off the Eye, we wanted dessert, but found that everything in the area was closed. Even the local McDonald’s had closed at 9:00. Who knew? We headed back to Victoria Station, figuring that we would have a good chance of finding things open near a major train station. We were right – most of the food places were open, including a booth that sold cookies. We picked up a dozen cookies to eat back in the hotel room, but then I decided I wanted more. We had been seeing ads for McFlurries, which are McDonald’s version of the Blizzard, and that looked as if it would hit the spot. So, we headed to the adjacent mall, to the food court, where we found an open McDonald’s, and we ordered two McFlurries. The mall food court was hopping (although the stores were closed), and it was a decent place to people watch. I ate my treat, and since Meredith is a slow ice cream eater, I decided it would be better to get another McFlurry than to simply watch her eat hers. Granted, I did not need it, but reason not the need.

Happily queasy, we took our cookies back to the Tube and headed home to the hotel. We got back without incident. We decided to try the television, to see if there was anything on that we could watch while we munched on cookies (and yes, we did eat all 12). I was flipping though the stations, and not having much luck, when I came across the Dallas Cowboys/Seattle Seahawks game. Since England is five hours ahead, I was getting a chance to see American football on Thanksgiving! That would do nicely. We dove into the cookies. We both agreed they were good, but not as good as we make. Mer’s theory is that they did not use brown sugar (something that Europe is lacking in for some reason). They were just less sweet than they should have been.

I got the wonderfully odd experience of having a British half-time show. It had one Brit and two Americans, and the British guy was saying all the right things, but it still sounded really weird. After half-time, we switched channels and watched a few minutes of French TV (which Mer enjoyed), and then switched again and watched a few minutes of a wonderful Italian talk show where all the guests talked over each other all the time. It was wonderfully chaotic.

And with that, we wrapped up our little British Thanksgiving at about 11:00.

Travel day/day 1

The international-travel-right-from-work concept does make for a bit of a long day. We got to our gate in Cleveland in plenty of time, which allowed me to hunt and gather pizza from the in-airport Pizza Hut. This was followed by king-sized Snickers bars. Thus fortified, we made it (with only a minor 30-minute delay for de-icing) to Philadelphia.

The City of Brotherly Love’s airport is not so loving to the tech-savvy traveler. I wanted to live-blog from the airport (we had an almost-three-hour layover), but during the week, wireless access is only free to college students (and free to everyone on weekends). I did not even bother finding out how much it would cost. I was tantalized and teased by the wireless network “US Airways Free,” but it did not work for me. I did get to see a Liberty Bell replica made out of Legos, and that was pretty darn cool.

The flight to London was long, but that is to be expected. We had choose-your-own-movie videos, but the system did not work for the first two hours or so. I polished off a 200-page book (Piano in the Pyrenees, by Tony Hawks), and then toyed with watching a movie, but decided against it after my first attempt to re-watch Iron Man was thwarted by a system reboot. I had loaded up Christmas music on my Nano (thanks, Shannon and Jo!) for Mer to listen to while she graded (for the entire flight), and I loaded up my Touch (thanks, Dubbs!) for me to listen to music and play games on. It is a bit odd to hear cannons firing while playing Risk on the Touch while Christmas music is singing about peace on earth.

We got to London ahead of schedule (said with a British “ssshhhhh”), and got through customs with no hassle (the customs line was about 10 minutes long). My bag was on the carousel and was quickly reclaimed. Mer’s bag came out within a minute, and we thought we could be off. However, her bag was wedged between two huge bags, and I had to move one of them while Mer tried to get her bag off the world’s fastest moving belt. She succeeded at the cost of my scraped knuckles, only to have her bag fly open on the floor. She gathered the stuff up to find that she was missing (and this is suspicious) her bra, every pair of her underwear, and one old shoe. It looked as if her bag had been inspected, and then the two zippers failed somehow – they now only work in one direction (they used to zip in either direction). This caused a minor delay while we filed a report with U.S. Air’s baggage claims. We then turned our attention to getting our mass-transit passes.

London is a very cosmopolitan city. Our first of many indications of this was when we were asking about passes at the information booth – the man inside was from Pakistan, and was hard to understand through the glass. We finally figured out that we needed to use the live-attendant booth (as opposed to the self-service kiosk). We queued up and got to our very friendly (and equally hard to hear) British attendant, who helped us get 7-day “Oyster” passes for the Tube and bus lines. The Oyster pass is expensive (about 27 pounds, or 40 dollars, each), but allows unlimited travel on London’s excellent transit system. Since individual tickets are based on how many “zones” you cross, paying for each ride can get expensive and confusing. Since we rode the Tube four times (on four different lines total) just on the first day, I think the Oyster passes will work out just fine (and take any worry about being cheap on transit away from us).

We made our way onto the Tube with limited trouble (it took a second to figure out the Tube gates – the Oyster cards swiped near sensors to open the gates, and some gates were “in” gates and some were “out” gates). Our hotel was in a section of London called the Docklands, which is east of downtown. Armed with our trusty Tube map, we figured out we needed to use three lines to get to our hotel. That did  not seem like such a big deal. The Tube was very crowded, even at a terminus like the airport, but we were on early, so we were okay. Our first transfer went well (the joys of speaking and reading English!), but the second transfer happened to be at a station that was under construction. It required us to leave the station, go to the street, and walk about a quarter mile to the next station. This was a little taxing with luggage, but not too bad. Until we got to the next station. The lift (elevator) did not seem to be working, so we used the stairs. Being gallant, I carried both suitcases down the stairs. All eight stories of them. Thank goodness it was down instead of up! Happily, since then, Mer has figured out we can use another line, so we should be spared the stairs on the way back.

The Docklands is an interesting place. It reminds me very strongly of Chicago. The Thames is diverted here (presumably for the docks that I have not seen), so the river is very prominent. This appears to be the new business area – lots of small- to mid-sized skyscrapers in steel and glass, and lots of construction. It is full of business-suited people bustling about at 9:00 and 5:00, and has turned out to be relatively quiet (bordering on abandoned) at night.

Our hotel was right next to the Tube station (which by now was a Light Rail station, above ground). We got to our hotel at about 2:00, and were very grateful when the non-British person checked us right in. We took the elevator to the 10th floor, and found our room. It was very nice – the room was fairly large, and the bed looked very welcoming. The British double beds must be about the size of our queen beds, because we did not feel unusually crowded once we climbed into bed. The major downside to the room was the internet situation. Taking a page from the Philly airport, the hotel charged for internet. They wanted 15 pounds (about $25) for internet access! What a rip-off. Then, just to rub it in, it was not even wireless (it was a standard wired connection). Needless to say, I dropped my plan of blogging each day as I had done in San Francisco this last summer.

Meredith long ago figured out a quick cure for jet lag. When you get to your destination, take a three-hour nap, and then get up and tour. The nap gives you energy to get through the evening, but keeps you tired enough that you can get back to bed at a normal hour. By the next morning, you are more or less on the local time. It works well. So, after about 30 hours of work and travel (although I did get a two-hour nap in at home from 10 to noon), we slipped into bed and grabbed some sleep.

We slept for three hours, and then headed into town. Mer consulted her constant companion, Rick Steves, and found a shopping district. We jumped on the Tube and headed into our first night in London! To go underwear shopping (or “pants shopping,” in England). Not even the nudge-and-wink kind of underwear shopping in London.

Still, the shopping area was nice as shopping districts go – lots of people, numerous stores, and lots of lights. We successfully took care of Meredith’s garment needs, and I was rewarded for my patience (and picky palate) by being allowed to pick the restaurant we went to. On the way to the store, I had seen a sign for a restaurant one block off the main drag; it was called Spaghetti House, and I strongly suspected that might indicate Italian foodstuffs. I was right. Moreover, it was run by real we-speak-Italian Italians. Mer was quite pleased with the atmosphere and the food. The meal was very authentic, with Mer’s pizza being very thin and extremely good. She proclaimed it the most genuine Italian pizza she had had since being in Italy over 10 years ago.

London is an expensive place. Essentially, things in London cost roughly the same as they do in Chicago, except in pounds instead of in dollars, and a pound is worth about $1.50 or more. Our little meal (with appetizers, meal, desserts, and tip) came to about 60 pounds. And it was worth it!

After our repast, we took the Tube to downtown (man, those Oyster passes rock!). Oddly, the most touristy sections of the city (near the Eye and Big Ben and Parliament) all close down between 8 and 9. Since it was 9:30, everything was closed, but we had a grand time making a loop from Big Ben, across the Thames, down by the Eye, across a cool pedestrian bridge, and back to the Tube near Big Ben. We made it back to our hotel via a slightly different line that Mer found, one that did not require climbing eight stories of steps and made three fewer stops to boot. It also allowed us to cross another cool pedestrian bridge in the Docklands. Bed was most welcome, and we slept quite soundly. Not a bad day, considering the work/travel involved in the whole day.

(I owe the title of this entry to my ever-clever wife.)