Much of this was written a few weeks ago, while Felicia and
I were cooling our heels in the Spokane airport, awaiting the arrival of Mark
and Jay before driving over to Wilbur for Grandma's service. I also wrote a good bit on Christmas Day before the fire at Mom's. So much time has
passed since the trip! I'm glad I took notes. I carry around a little notebook
that I picked up at conference and take little notes regularly. It's helpful
when I fall behind on my blog. Anyhoo, without further ado:
It was a very long couple of weeks leading up to the London
vacation. I worked all the week prior, spent a day traveling (with M made it so
much better!), then worked two conferences over six longs days. But they were
the last two events of the year! They went very well. It was my first
experience with Armistice Day, and we did have two minutes of silence during
lunch in the Exhibit Hall, which I appreciated. On that Wednesday, the day that
the two conferences overlapped, I planned a women's networking reception and it
turned out to be a first--the first time there were more men than women in
attendance. That was kind of strange, but the women's community leader who
spoke with me did a good job of outlining things that people could do to help
and that's always good for guys to hear.
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| View from the Hilton Metropole |
Actually, the hardest part of the work week was checking
Facebook and seeing all of the adventures that M was having solo. This was his
first trip to Europe so I can't really begrudge him that extra fun. Also, it
gave him time to learn the Tube and bus routes, and get acquainted with some of
the neighborhoods, so that was a time-saver when we sallied forth together.
Unlike the last couple of times I visited Europe, I wasn't
affected much by jetlag. Maybe the timing of the flight and the fact that it
was nonstop helped. So I did have enough energy to go out with M on that first Sunday
night after a conference setup day, which was not overly strenuous for me. We
did
a night tour of the city, just to get a sense of where things were in
relation to each other. The open-topped bus was a little chillier than I was
prepared for, but we soldiered on.
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London Eye and the Thames
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St. Paul's Cathedral
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On Thursday night while I was still working the conference,
operating on a tip from Mom, we when to the church of St.-Martin-in-the-Fields
to hear some music. They also had a pretty decent cafeteria-style restaurant in
the crypt so we dined among the graves before the concert began. This was where
I learned that even though a restaurant may look like a cafeteria and food is
dished out for the taking, you actually are supposed to let the server behind
the counter place it on your tray, not grab it yourself.
We sat on our coats in the rigid pews in the lovely church
and
listened to some of classical music's greatest hits by Bach, Handel, Vivaldi,
and more by candelight. We were also treated to
a world premier,"Flight," written particularly for the violinist whose last name was
appropriately Peacock, though I guess that's not a fowl known for its aerial
prowess. The composer was in the audience, so he stood and was acknowledged.
There was also a lot of plucking of strings in the piece. Was that also a
reference to birds and what we do to them? The conductor, in his 60s, looked
like an interpretive dancer, swaying and using every inch of his small
platform. The concert concluded with a wonderful Argentine tango,
"Oblivion."
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Candlelight concert, St.-Martin-in-the-Fields
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For me the vacation started on Friday night. I hightailed it
out of the conference as early as I decently could and M and I set out for the
theater, er, theatre district. We had an awful dinner then made our way across
the Thames to the beautiful Old Vic for a production of
Much Ado About Nothing.
Unfortunately Vanessa Redgrave was indisposed, but her understudy did a
wonderful job as did James Earl Jones. It was set in England during WWII and
Benedick and his buddies are flyboys from the American South. Not everyone
could handle the Bard's verse in a Southern accent with aplomb, but it was an
interesting idea. They did a nice job with the set, just a simple wooden frame
with plain wood for the back wall, serving as various rooms and an orchard. (Side
note: I had rented the Joss Whedon version of Much Ado from Netflix, but didn't
have time to watch it until I returned. I recommend it.)
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In front of the Roman wall with
Emperor Trajan |
Saturday morning I went to the hotel's gym for the first and
only time. Then we made our way out to see The Tower of London. I really
enjoyed it. We took a tour led by Yeoman Sergeant Warder Bob Loughlin, who was
very entertaining and enlightening. I was standing right next to him during his
descriptions of some of the beheadings that happened on the hill near The Tower
and he used my head to demonstrate how the executioner held up the severed
visage for the assembled crowd to see. We took in the crown jewels, which were
pretty spectacular. I'm glad we were there in the off-season--I was able to do
several trips on the short moving walkway that regulates the viewing of the
most important crowns and royal accessories. We had lunch at a little outdoor
café with views of Tower Bridge and the Thames, taking advantage of the clear
day, then headed back towards the hotel. We stopped to do a little shopping at
a couple of pop-up shops then braved Fortnum & Mason, but not for very
long--they had just put out the Christmas items and it was mobbed. Poor M
parked himself against a column while I fought my way through the crowd.
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Lunch after The Tower tour
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Sunday dawned gray, er, grey, and we got down to the hotel
lobby by 7:30 a.m. to meet the tour bus shuttle. We were dropped in a queuing
area near Victoria Station and herded with many other out-of-towners onto
busses heading for parts rural. We had chosen the
Stonehenge-Salisbury-Bathtour, which I had been conflicted about at first. A tour, ugh, and certainly
there was enough to see in town. But I thought about being so close to
Stonehenge--when would I be back in the UK again? So we did it and I'm so glad
we did. We had a lovely tour guide in Pete, a former music roadie, and Amrish
was a very good driver. Pete was almost a British stereotype with his crooked Austin
Powers teeth. He kept the narrative to a minimum as we cruised out of the big
city and into the countryside, shorn golden fields cross-hatched with hedgerows
and stands of trees. M spied many Chinese pheasants strutting in the stubble
while I spied on the Japanese teenager in the seat ahead of us who spent most
of the trip to Stonehenge primping and making minuscule adjustments to her
stocking cap and hair, which she promptly undid when boredom set in and she
decided to nap.
We had 45 whole minutes with the mighty stones, which was
adequate, but barely. Pete was right, they were just stones. But still,
something about them was very regal and some combination of mystical and
mysterious. Pointy Pal Julia had said that just being there, taking in the
scale and the setting was worth it, and she was right. We ran into some of my
work colleagues there, which was kind of funny, seeing them so far from home
and in such a different context.
And then we were back on the bus and off to Salisbury and
its cathedral. We arrived right before noon just as the service was letting out
and we heard the great bell chiming its dozen. We decided to have lunch first
since the cathedral had a cafeteria style restaurant (in the chancery rather
than the crypt), which I think was part of its way of feeding the
hungry--paying customers helped offset the cost of the free meals, which I
thought was very nice. They sold beer and wine there too, how civilized! Er,
civilised. The gift shop was well stocked. It was a lovely structure filled
with many intricate tombs and windows, the world's oldest clock--no face it
just worked the bells--and the best remaining copy of the Magna Carta. We were
the last ones on the bus, arriving just a minute before the time deadline, and
off we chugged to Bath.
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That's Pete to the far left.
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Apparently the spire is not quite plumb.
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The clock
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Pete felt that Bath was the best of the sights on this tour,
and it was an interesting location in a very pretty, almost Italian, town. Bath
Abbey is a gorgeous church next to the Bath edifice. The Bath structure itself
is well done, guiding people through its history and displaying the artifacts
in a good context. I was again grateful to be there in the off-season. We drank
of the waters, and had enough time left to wander a few blocks of the town.
We rumbled home through the Cotswold region as dusk drew up,
seeing a few of the traditional thatched cottages and stone buildings dotting
the beautiful countryside. We didn't realize how far west we'd traveled until
the way home--it took over three hours to get back to London. Pete recommended
a pub near Victoria Station when we got back into town, but it turned out to be
one of the Taylor-Walker franchises, so we ate in the hotel sports bar instead,
happy to watch some American football since the time zones were working in our
favor.
Monday was another out of town trip--we caught the train at
Victoria and headed south to Portsmouth and the
historical dockyard. M has been
wanting to see the HMS Victory since forever. We had been corresponding with
Colin Honey, Nick's dad, since his summer visit to California. He lives between
London and Portsmouth, so we rendezvoused at the entrance to the dockyard.
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This was all Colin's idea
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After
catching up over coffee, we took a tour of the Mary Rose, Henry XIII's ship
that sank in The Thames and was fairly well preserved in the mud. After an
amazing, two decade feat of preservation, there's a lot on display, from the
hull to personal possession, weapons, and tools from the crew. We had lunch in
the little cafeteria, talking a little local politics, then took a tour of the
Victory. They were doing a lot of renovation, including caulking with the
original rope and pitch recipe--apparently she didn't respond well to modern
caulk. The topmasts and rigging were also struck for maintenance, so while
understandable, I feel like I missed the majesty of the vessel. Like the USS
Constitution that I had seen earlier in the year in Boston, I was again amazed
at how many people they crammed onto the ship. Nelson's cabin was set for a
dinner--because she's still commissioned, they were having a naval event
onboard that night. After the Victory, we wandered around the Warrior, an iron
clad steamship. It was a good way to experience 300 years of shipping history
in a day. It was really great to visit Colin in his neck of the woods, too. The two hour train ride back to London again seemed so long, but
mostly because we traveled in the dark and seemed to be gazing mostly at our
own reflections on the way home.
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Hull of the Mary Rose
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With Colin and HMS Victory
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Our final full day in London, we started at
St. Paul'sCathedral. M had been there before, but it's a pretty remarkable place. There
was so much ornate, encrusted sculpture and mosaics (I have "casino"
as a simile in my notes) and woodwork to take in: the perfect detail of the
wing of an angel lowering a general into his coffin, the sleeping lions
supporting Nelson's huge sarcophagus in his dusky eight-sided chamber, the
stained glass casting jeweled shadows on the two-story polished altar. The
smell of incense was pervasive, we could hear music wafting up from the crypt
as the organist warmed up for a private service. The scale of the place was
pretty amazing too. I wished they allowed photography inside. One thing M
hadn't done the first time: we climbed up to the Whispering Gallery and then up
to the Golden Gallery at the very top. It was steep and a little claustrophobic
near the end, but the views were well worth it--we were lucky to have a clear,
dry day. Much better value than the London Eye!
We wandered down to the Royal Courts of Justice where M
listened in to a trial and I learned that wigs were made of horsehair as it
holds its shape, then finally had lunch in a real pub, The George right across
the street. I tried a pint of the eponymous beer that had to be pumped from the
taps in several pulls, as well as a sample of Dark Star that the bartender had
brought for M to try. We were there as the courts let out and were a little
surprised to see some lawyers and court staff having beer and wine with their
meals. The afternoon was on the wane and we felt a little desperate to make the
most of our remaining hours, so we headed to
Westminster Abbey. I had visited
nearly 30 years ago, but I had forgotten how densely packed with dead folk it
is. I remembered Poets Corner, which was inspirational somehow. But I hadn't
remembered the grouping of Newton, Darwin, and Kelvin, the queens, the other
nobles practically stacked on top of each other, maybe gathering together for
warmth in the chilly gloom of the abbey. I loved the memorial to the master
ceiling mason: a mirror set on a table where you could easily admire his work without
having to crane your head back. While we were there, a pleasant voice came over
the loudspeaker and asked us all to pause for a moment of prayer. It was a good
reminder that we were in much more than a place for tourists.
We had just enough time for a quick lie-down and change of
clothes in the hotel before heading out to our last evening's entertainment. In
his London adventures, M had met a theater (theatre!) director and he had
kindly set aside good seats for his show,
Barking in Essex. Not willing to risk
another crappy tourist dinner, we dined again at St. Martin's Café in the
Crypt, then took in the show. I appreciated being able to bring my wine to my
seat! Sadly, I didn't think much of the production, but M liked it pretty well.
On our last morning, I got up early and marched to Hyde
Park, leaving M alone in the room, feeling poorly. It was colder than I
expected and of course it actually started raining, something it hadn't really
done before. Though I was pretty miserable at first, fingers and toes chilled
to the bone, hello, I was still in England! Kensington Palace within walking
distance! Royal Albert Hall and his over the top memorial! My hips were aching
as I dodged traffic, paid too much for latte and restroom access, appreciated
gloomy but glorious autumnal views in the park, then made my way back to the
hotel along Edgware Road. We packed up then headed to Heathrow in plenty of
time to hurry up and wait since our flight was delayed. There was some
consolation when we finally took off to have the row to ourselves.
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| That's Kensington Palace in the distance |
And then we were home. I had taken a few extra days off of
work, and was glad I did--gave me some time to actually unwind from both the
work and vacation activities.
One thing I learned, which I knew of course, but didn't
*really* know the impact: four days just isn't enough for London. Even just one
more day would have a big help in squeezing in just few more sights. This was
very clear after the first day when we spent so much time at The Tower that we
didn't have much daylight for anything else. What I regret I didn't have the
time to do: Visit Hannah in York. Set foot in a museum. Tour a palace other
than the Tower. Ride in a cute black hackney cab. Search out some really great
food--we had a good Malaysian meal and an Indian one, but nothing that was
epicuriously memorable.
Some other things I learned: Churches can have good food.
And booze, outside of what you'd drink as part of the service. Touristy bus
tours can serve an important purpose, and aren't all bad. Pleasant and
knowledgeable tour guides are also A Good Thing. I really like cask ales. Some
men in London wear brightly colored pants to good effect.
Some random thoughts that don't really fit into the
narrative:
-We couldn't help ourselves from making comparisons between
London and New York. That wasn't an awful thing, but I also felt like I
sometimes didn't just absorb the environment for what it was, I kept relating it
to what was already familiar to me.
- I was constantly struck by how the ancient, the old, the
modern, and the brand spanking new were mashed up together everywhere in the
city. The Tower on a Roman wall. Views of the Gherkin and the Shard from the dome
of St. Paul's Cathedral. Decades-old red double decker buses running the same
routes with their newer versions. Construction cranes were everywhere.
- Returning to the hotel on the Tube one evening, we were
joined in the car by an interesting group of young men, all dressed in stylish
but somewhat rumpled suits, long blond hair pulled back into ponytails,
bracelets that looked like they belonged to surfers or stoners peeking out from
their white shirt cuffs, one with a worn leather motorcycle jacket over his
suit. They began to sing softly in a language we didn't recognize. When they
paused, M asked the language--they were Swedish, coming off of a choir
rehearsal.
- Tattoos, at least obvious ones, don't seem to be as
prevalent in London.
*****
After being in such a great city with a rich and varied past
and present, M and I asked each other about where we'd rather live--where we
are or a place like London. On the Saturday after our return, we took a
motorcycle ride along Alexander Valley, one of the popular wine roads north and
east of us. We had a crazy wind storm the few days before, so the air, aside
from the gray-brown smudges of smoke from the many fires burning, was
incredibly clear. We wound our way among our fall colors, the grapevines
turning golden and bare in the valley flat, surrounded by the sharply upright
hills crowned by exposed lava. It had rained just before we returned, so we
could smell the earth and nascent leaf decomposition. It was hard to know where
to look, there were glorious vistas on either side and even above as we sped
beneath the archways of oak branches sheltering the road. The monuments of
nature make me feel more at home these days. Though I'm very lucky that I visit
beautiful and important cities on a regular basis--I really don't have to
choose.
