The finale of my travels were 2 of possibly the biggest celebrations I have been to.
After exploring London as sufficiently as possible in 4 days, we boarded the train (at King's Cross...where platform 9 3/4 was closed for construction, biggest disappointment ever) for Cambridge. Oli spent 6 years there so knew the ropes and thought May Ball season would be a nice time to see the town. In June (yes, May Ball is in June, you think Cambridge would have it together a bit more than that), every college at Cambridge throws what is essentially a huge black tie, $250 per ticket party. We didn't have tickets or black tie, but after having lunch with some old friends, Oli was convinced we should go. Or, rather, crash.
And so we took a friend's access card, went down to a bike shed in a parking garage, and shoved a heavy concrete block against a door. I was later informed that this door opened to a staircase that led to the outer "court" (Cambridge speak for lawn) of the Ball. When the guards come around to check that the doors are locked, they will push from the other side, and the door, blocked by the cement, will feel locked. Next, we made our way to the town to find proper attire. First stop was the OxFam store, where he bought a really REALLY fly double-breasted black suit for a whopping 12 pounds 50. Next stop was another charity shop where the purchase of a lady's white short sleeve button down shirt totalled one pound. Next door, the joke shop pulled through with an elastic bow-tie. All that was left were the shoes, because clearly navy blue Ked's wouldn't cut it for black tie. We thought that maybe black laces would help, so we went to the grocery store and bought some black socks as well, just for safe measure. However, when simply replacing the laces wasn't sufficient, we had the brilliant idea of just putting the socks OVER the shoes (obviously) and tying the laces around the bottom of the shoe. As you can tell, our slap-dash black tie for under 20 pounds was not too bad.
So after meeting people that had paid for tickets and spent endless time and money on dresses and in front of a mirror, they left for the ball, and we went in to the bathroom of the pub we were in to change in to our formal attire that had spent a few hours shoved into a backpack.
We ventured into the parking garage and bingo, the door into the first court was open. But this was only the first line of security. Our wristbands were checked again, and we were caught. After taking photos of both us and our IDs, we were kicked out...but the door was still unlocked. So mid-fireworks show, back through the door we went. However, this time, the only security past that was a poor little girl working the door alone. Looking very much otherwise occupied on the phone, we walked briskly past her and when she squeaked "wristbands please!" as we ran by, Oli threw up my hand to show the leather bracelet I had recently bought in Croatia that just happened to be relatively similar in width to the wristbands. And we were in.
What a spectacle it was. Stages, bands, lights, food, drinks, people, decor, and everything was free. We stayed until it was light (for the survivor photo) and in typical British fashion, were served biscuits and tea in the Hall (yes, also like Harry Potter). Back on the train it was at 6 am to London. Still in formal wear. The rest of the city was going to work, and we were going to bed.
But, we were going to bed because we had a later train to catch up to Durham, where Oli's family lives. Upon arriving at the cutest house I'd ever seen, we had toothbrushes, soaps and towels laid out for us on the bed like a hotel and a full lunch buffet and tea set up in the perfectly kept garden. Durham is a quaint northern town with all the charm you would expect of a quintessential British city. We rode bikes and walked up and down (and up and down) the hills. I think the best part was definitely feeling at-home again. Plus, the Durham Cathedral is certainly a sight worth seeing (plus, they filmed parts of Harry Potter there, which completely made up for Platform 9 3/4 being closed).
One of the days while in the north, we took another train up to the coastal town of Stathes, where Oli's aunt owns a B&B and beautiful guest house (or, as she calls it, love nest...). Turns out that she used to run an antique store as well, so the entire place was decorated with vintage antiques from all over the world. But before we could enjoy any of this, we hiked 9 miles (literally) in the strongest winds I have ever encountered. The type of wind that you can put all of your body weight in to and stay upright. Utterly. Exhausting. This is not, however, to take away from the breathtaking scenery...I forgot to mention that the entire trail was along the edge of the coast. And the reward for the hike was a huge home-cooked meal of lasagna in the B&B dining room, hot shower, and a cider at the village pub amidst live folk music. Picturesque doesn't even begin to describe this place.
Upon return to Durham, we ventured into Scotland for a day to see the sights of Edinburgh. Oli had been to the Edinburgh Festival (theatre) a few years ago so knew all of the insider spots and streets. And while on my Harry Potter world tour, we saw the pub where JK Rowling began writing her saga. Huge. Edinburgh was a lovely city. Very liveable and lively, while not seeming overwhelming. The day ended with a glimpse of the world cup USA game before heading back to Durham and then to London. (side note-I don't think i mentioned this previously, but that USA-England game that we were supposed to get killed in? We tied. And actually ended up staying in the Cup longer than England.)
After becoming sufficiently relaxed, we left Durham and it was back to London for a day for a final hot shower and night in bed before the extravaganza that was Glastonbury...
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Quite Quaint
London, alone. I've always wanted to travel alone, and I feel like this was the perfect place to do it. I check in to my slightly last-minute-booked hotel across the street from Paddington Station (yes, there's a giant statue of Paddington Bear) to find that there is no internet and 3 TV channels. NO TECHNOLOGY!?! But, much to my relief, there was of course, in typical English fashion, a tea kettle. So I promptly made myself some tea and went to bed.
Day 2, I'm still not quite sure where this "London Fog" that everyone talks about comes from. This was day 1 of a very sunny and pleasant 3 weeks. I began my day with a cold and soggy breakfast in the hotel after being woken up at 7 am by what sounded like the children of the housekeeping staff (is that allowed?) since the supply closet was NEXT DOOR to my room. Which was in the basement. With a cot for a bed. But enough complaining. I set off for Hyde park and arrived to find a brigade of costumed soldiers on horseback toting cannons. Only in London, I thought. Of course all other forms of traffic through the park would be shut to a brigade of horses. In to the park I went down along to the Serpentine lake to find a sign that read "gun salute, noon." There was no way I was going to miss this. Sure enough, at 11:45 I wandered to the middle of the hugely expansive park to find a brass band blowing out Sinatra tunes and at 12:00 on the dot, a cannon salute was continuously fired off for about 20 minutes.
After my pre-20th century war experience, I ambled down the road in search of the Science Museum. London streets make absolutely no sense. If you think that the cross-cutting states of DC confuse the block system, come to London. There IS no system. So, I eventually gave up after an hour and a half of walking to a museum that supposedly should have take 20 minutes. Instead, I went shopping. Enter, Oxford Street-a wonderful zoo of upscale and discount stores combined with boutiques and restaurants all on one glorious thoroughfare. And then there is Primark. The greatest and most horrible department store ever. I would say that nothing I bought was more that 15 pounds, but then, you get 4 tops for 5 pounds each, plus some shoes, dresses, etc...You get the the picture. Plus, don't even bother waiting half an hour for a fitting room, there are people all over the store throwing on (and off) clothes in the middle of aisles.
After a long and tiring day of shopping and walking, I was starving. Per suggestion of someone who's opinion I trusted (...) regarding cheap food in London, I set off to find Gregg's pie shop on Edgeware Road. Needless to say, there is no Gregg's on Edgeware Road. Only ethnic markets, signs that I couldn't read, and old men giving catcalls in languages I couldn't understand. Not that I'm not in to new and cultural experiences, just not by myself in London at sundown. After finding reprieve at Starbucks and some nail polish at the drugstore, I made my way back to the hotel and called it a night.
Day 3, I decided to set out for the Science Museum once again. For those of you who know me, anything that sounds remotely like a whole museum FULL of science things is not to be missed. I finally found it (along with about 3 other museums within 2 blocks) and went right in. Aside from the school children (who somehow seemed a TINY bit more tolerable when wearing British school uniforms, think Harry Potter for 8 year olds-but still, I wanted to hit them all) and tourists (probably worse than the school children), the science museum was brilliant. Exhibits ranged from the invention of the steam engine to space exploration, and they had a kids center that was completely hands-on (unfortunately, I couldn't be bothered to go in because of all the kids that were there...go figure). Having had enough of the crowds, I ventured up a back staircase to the fourth floor where I found the Wellcome Trust (a name I only knew from brain stuff at NIH) museum of the history of medicine. PERFECT. I was dark, quiet, and fascinating. They had some of the earliest medical and surgical tools, history of all sorts of procedures and medications, everything. And no kids or tourists. That occupied the next 2 hours of my time.
Walking home, I passed a quilting museum that also advertised a Grace Kelly exhibit. Why anyone would want to go to a quilt museum while they could instead see an exhibit all about Grace Kelly that was put on by Van Cleef and Arpels is beyond me. But, to each her own. Aaaanyway, walking home, I somehow managed to happen upon the entire city block that is Harrods and promptly entered the food hall-an experience that is like no other and cannot be summarized in words. Just go. After becoming sufficiently starving with $0 to spend, I went to the clothes area and was serenaded by a rousing rendition of Ave Maria on a grand piano as I browsed through collections of designers like Versace and Chanel.
Over the years (part and parcel thanks to Facebook) I have kept in relatively close contact with an old friend from elementary school. Her family moved to the Netherlands 3 years ago, she moved to London...and never moved back. These reunitings can often be quite awkward, especially when so much time has passed (10 years, we worked out) since we'd last seen each other, but I had the good fortune of meeting up with her and could not be happier that I did. She works at a charity shop on Portobello road, and our "meeting plan" was to walk down the street and hopefully just run into each other...and so we did. She hadn't changed a bit and was instantly recognizable. We spent the day wandering about, browsing the charity shop, visiting pubs, and catching up on the past ten years of life. Her words summarized the evening pretty accurately. After a few hours, she said "wow, I'm really glad this wasn't awkward. Cause it could've been."
The next morning after a much more adequate night's sleep (having moved hotels to the Hilton at Paddington Station), I took the Heathrow Express to meet the Brit on his home turf. The instant he arrived, we dropped bags at his friend's house (on Warwick Avenue, Duffy song anyone??) and hit the town. The rest of the day was filled with Museums, Trafalgar Square, cream tea, walking, Tube rides, and World Cup MADNESS. You see, today was the England vs. USA game in round 1. Needless to say, I was a bit outnumbered. The only other people cheering for the State were an odd group of Argentineans in the Pub we went to (and part of me thinks that had nothing to do with their love of the states, but rather their hatred of the Brits). The next night after another day of sightseeing (including a picnic in Regents Park and a failure at buying the wrong tickets to the London Eye-no, we are not over 65 and thus do not qualify for senior tickets), we dined at one of the "top 50 best restaurants of the world", St. John in Spittalfield, where their motto was "head to tail eating"...meaning they used EVERY part of the animal. Among our samplings were pig's face, foie gras, potted pork (still not quite sure where that came from), and offal (yes, intestines, which were surprisingly not that awful, as it were). Following dinner was a pub with an in-house cat which, undoubtedly, was the largest cat i have EVER seen. And it took my seat.
Mixed in to all of this were drinks at the British Film Institute, a visit to the Tate Modern, curry wars on Brick Lane, Pimms, a day at Camden Yard, and so on...London is a simply unbelievable city (and for all you skeptics, it only rained once).
Day 2, I'm still not quite sure where this "London Fog" that everyone talks about comes from. This was day 1 of a very sunny and pleasant 3 weeks. I began my day with a cold and soggy breakfast in the hotel after being woken up at 7 am by what sounded like the children of the housekeeping staff (is that allowed?) since the supply closet was NEXT DOOR to my room. Which was in the basement. With a cot for a bed. But enough complaining. I set off for Hyde park and arrived to find a brigade of costumed soldiers on horseback toting cannons. Only in London, I thought. Of course all other forms of traffic through the park would be shut to a brigade of horses. In to the park I went down along to the Serpentine lake to find a sign that read "gun salute, noon." There was no way I was going to miss this. Sure enough, at 11:45 I wandered to the middle of the hugely expansive park to find a brass band blowing out Sinatra tunes and at 12:00 on the dot, a cannon salute was continuously fired off for about 20 minutes.
After my pre-20th century war experience, I ambled down the road in search of the Science Museum. London streets make absolutely no sense. If you think that the cross-cutting states of DC confuse the block system, come to London. There IS no system. So, I eventually gave up after an hour and a half of walking to a museum that supposedly should have take 20 minutes. Instead, I went shopping. Enter, Oxford Street-a wonderful zoo of upscale and discount stores combined with boutiques and restaurants all on one glorious thoroughfare. And then there is Primark. The greatest and most horrible department store ever. I would say that nothing I bought was more that 15 pounds, but then, you get 4 tops for 5 pounds each, plus some shoes, dresses, etc...You get the the picture. Plus, don't even bother waiting half an hour for a fitting room, there are people all over the store throwing on (and off) clothes in the middle of aisles.
After a long and tiring day of shopping and walking, I was starving. Per suggestion of someone who's opinion I trusted (...) regarding cheap food in London, I set off to find Gregg's pie shop on Edgeware Road. Needless to say, there is no Gregg's on Edgeware Road. Only ethnic markets, signs that I couldn't read, and old men giving catcalls in languages I couldn't understand. Not that I'm not in to new and cultural experiences, just not by myself in London at sundown. After finding reprieve at Starbucks and some nail polish at the drugstore, I made my way back to the hotel and called it a night.
Day 3, I decided to set out for the Science Museum once again. For those of you who know me, anything that sounds remotely like a whole museum FULL of science things is not to be missed. I finally found it (along with about 3 other museums within 2 blocks) and went right in. Aside from the school children (who somehow seemed a TINY bit more tolerable when wearing British school uniforms, think Harry Potter for 8 year olds-but still, I wanted to hit them all) and tourists (probably worse than the school children), the science museum was brilliant. Exhibits ranged from the invention of the steam engine to space exploration, and they had a kids center that was completely hands-on (unfortunately, I couldn't be bothered to go in because of all the kids that were there...go figure). Having had enough of the crowds, I ventured up a back staircase to the fourth floor where I found the Wellcome Trust (a name I only knew from brain stuff at NIH) museum of the history of medicine. PERFECT. I was dark, quiet, and fascinating. They had some of the earliest medical and surgical tools, history of all sorts of procedures and medications, everything. And no kids or tourists. That occupied the next 2 hours of my time.
Walking home, I passed a quilting museum that also advertised a Grace Kelly exhibit. Why anyone would want to go to a quilt museum while they could instead see an exhibit all about Grace Kelly that was put on by Van Cleef and Arpels is beyond me. But, to each her own. Aaaanyway, walking home, I somehow managed to happen upon the entire city block that is Harrods and promptly entered the food hall-an experience that is like no other and cannot be summarized in words. Just go. After becoming sufficiently starving with $0 to spend, I went to the clothes area and was serenaded by a rousing rendition of Ave Maria on a grand piano as I browsed through collections of designers like Versace and Chanel.
Over the years (part and parcel thanks to Facebook) I have kept in relatively close contact with an old friend from elementary school. Her family moved to the Netherlands 3 years ago, she moved to London...and never moved back. These reunitings can often be quite awkward, especially when so much time has passed (10 years, we worked out) since we'd last seen each other, but I had the good fortune of meeting up with her and could not be happier that I did. She works at a charity shop on Portobello road, and our "meeting plan" was to walk down the street and hopefully just run into each other...and so we did. She hadn't changed a bit and was instantly recognizable. We spent the day wandering about, browsing the charity shop, visiting pubs, and catching up on the past ten years of life. Her words summarized the evening pretty accurately. After a few hours, she said "wow, I'm really glad this wasn't awkward. Cause it could've been."
The next morning after a much more adequate night's sleep (having moved hotels to the Hilton at Paddington Station), I took the Heathrow Express to meet the Brit on his home turf. The instant he arrived, we dropped bags at his friend's house (on Warwick Avenue, Duffy song anyone??) and hit the town. The rest of the day was filled with Museums, Trafalgar Square, cream tea, walking, Tube rides, and World Cup MADNESS. You see, today was the England vs. USA game in round 1. Needless to say, I was a bit outnumbered. The only other people cheering for the State were an odd group of Argentineans in the Pub we went to (and part of me thinks that had nothing to do with their love of the states, but rather their hatred of the Brits). The next night after another day of sightseeing (including a picnic in Regents Park and a failure at buying the wrong tickets to the London Eye-no, we are not over 65 and thus do not qualify for senior tickets), we dined at one of the "top 50 best restaurants of the world", St. John in Spittalfield, where their motto was "head to tail eating"...meaning they used EVERY part of the animal. Among our samplings were pig's face, foie gras, potted pork (still not quite sure where that came from), and offal (yes, intestines, which were surprisingly not that awful, as it were). Following dinner was a pub with an in-house cat which, undoubtedly, was the largest cat i have EVER seen. And it took my seat.
Mixed in to all of this were drinks at the British Film Institute, a visit to the Tate Modern, curry wars on Brick Lane, Pimms, a day at Camden Yard, and so on...London is a simply unbelievable city (and for all you skeptics, it only rained once).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)