Sunday, May 31st, 2009
Man, we didn't sleep worth a shit that night. Of course, there was only a couple hours of it, anyway. Up and at 'em. Quick shower but still the same clothes because, as I've said, the rest of them were all packed up and somewhere in the airport.
Because we did not view the sights of London last night, we were going to do that this morning but the price we would pay for doing this meant that we ahd to carry our carry-on luggage everywhere we went. We sort of looked like street people, I'd imagine, except we were freshly bathed. I still had the map that the concierge gave me the night before in his ever-so-polite manner. We checked out of the hotel but we were hungry.
Up until this point, we had not had a bite of fast food anywhere along our journey. Right across the street from the hotel, however, there was a McDonald's so we decided today was the day we'd have some. We had sausage biscuits and coffee. The interesting thing about the coffee was when we ordered 2 coffees, the young lady behind the counter politely asked: "white or black?" Huh? Seeing the puzzled look on my face, she translated that for me. "With milk or without?" Ah! With milk, please. For a week now, we'd had coffee with milk, not cream. I much rather prefer cream in my coffee but I accepted milk as a suitable alternative given the environment we were in only drank it that way--no cream.
After breakfast, we caught the bus from the hotel back to the terminal at the airport that would lead us to the Picadilly Line on the tube, again. The ride was not as long as I remember from the night before but it was far more scenic. In the sun-drenched morning, you could watch the activities of London suburbia. The houses, the small shops in little parts of the outlying towns. Various brief stops at the stations provided us with a little longer view.
Finally, we arrive at the Hyde Park Corner stop and made our way to the top. The escalator to get to the surface was absolutely the longest, tallest, and steepest escalator I had ever seen. Once to the top, there was a slight labyrinth of tunnels to navigate to get to the park but we made our way through and into the city. The entrance to the park was a beautiful but small piece of architecture. Of course we took pictures but did not enter. We only had a couple short hours to see some of the things we wanted to see. Tarrying in the park would not do our agenda justice.
Hyde Park is not all that far by foot to Buckingham Palace. It was just a short stroll down a road called Constitution Hill. What a beautiful road! Each side was adorned with large trees, providing shade for pedestrians, cyclists, and motorists alike. It was nice taking a walk with my wife in London in a setting such as this, even though we looked like vagabonds with our luggage strapped to us. After a few short minutes, we finally found ourselves just beside Buckingham Palace.
What an impressive sight! The palace itself was not all that awe-inspiring but the whole scene was just awesome! The Palace, the modern Police officers with automatic weapons but wearing traditional bobby hats, and of course the traditional Palace Guards. They were not outside of the gate but instead they were up against the Palace walls. Yes, they marched back and forth, for what I do not know. Probably mostly for show, now, as I think the automatic weapons out front served as much more of a deterrent than these fellows. We took a few pictures of the palace, the modern cops, and the traditional guards then walked over to the Victoria Memorial for a greater view.
The Victoria Memorial was a wonderful piece of art. Looking out over the Mall was the likeness of Queen Victoria--regal and graceful, at the same time. We took a few pictures there and had our picture taken by a French man there. Looking away from the Palace while standing at the memorial, the Mall was an impressive sight, as well. On each side of the street for as far as the Mall stretched, dozens of British Flags hung as a bold reminder of exactly where you were standing.
Knowing that we didn't have that much time, we headed out by foot toward the clump of history that all sat near the banks of the River Thames. We took the path of a street called Birdcage Walk. Another impressive compilation of pavement and horticulture, if I must say. On that little road, we passed the barracks for the Palace guards. There were tour times available but had to press onward.
After a few mintues of walking down Birdcage Walk, we came upon the square where one could see Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, and Westminster Abbey almost all in once view. It was magnificent. We headed to Westminster Abbey first. What an impressive sight, that was! Built in the Gothic model of architecture, the details and the angles...the towering spires and the artwork that was so intricately incorporated into the architecture was something that modern day engineers would simply not have the patience for. I could not get enough of staring at this beautiful piece of history. But after several pictures of the church and about 20 minutes of taking it in, it was time to move on, yet again.
All of these traditional sights are literally clumped all together so just beyond the Abbey, the Houses of Parliament sat waiting to be viewed. This structure was absolutely enormous. Not so much tall as it was just the massive amount of real estate that this thing took up. We walked the entire length of the Houses (aka Westminster Palace), taking pictures and just looking at the buildings. Two things really caught my attention. There was this very small structure across the street from the Houses that was built in the shape of a castle. I didn't know what it was while we were there but I thought it was interesting. Later, when we came back to the States, I was doing a little informal research of the Royal lineage and saw that one of the Kings had built that to house the Royal Treasure. I cannot remember now which King it was but it was neat learning about that.
The other thing that really grabbed my attention was the statue depicting King Richard I (Richard the Lionheart). It was a representation of the King who reigned between 1189 and 1199. He was mounted atop a horse and holding a sword above his head. No savage look on his face...no galloping steed...no robes flowing behind him. Just the King with a face that demanded respect. Odd thing about this English King was that the man hardly spoke a word of English and was rarely even in his country. Instead, he was commanding armies in battles throughout the vast majority of his life. But it really wasn't the statue, the warrior spirit, nor the placement next to the Houses of Parliament that got me. It was the simple history of it. King Richard I, the English People and their pride. Regardless of how proud I am to be an American, most of us have our roots right here in England. Some man, some woman, some child who were subjects of this mighty king had children, who would have children, who would have children, who would become my parents. This is just as much a part of my history as any given British subject, regardless of my nationality.
As much as I hated it, it was time to move on. Through the whole venture in this historic part of London, I would occasional snap pictures of Big Ben from the different angles I could see it from. Yes...just a clock but it's iconic. I think many of us think of Big Ben when someone mentions London. But this time, I was there. Just on the other end of the enormous grounds that held the Houses of Parliament, this giant clock they call Big Ben stood high and proud...the base of it all literally being slapped by the small waves of the River Thames. I wondered for a moment how long it would be before erosion wore completely through the base of ole Ben and caused to tumble into the water.
Many pictures taken of all of it. The River Thames, Westminster Abbey, The Houses of Parliament, the various statues of heroes (including the great Winston Churchill), the double decker buses... just amazing. But only 3 hours worth of it.
My wife and I got a cup of espresso from a little shop run by an Italian man. We stood outside, drank our coffee and just watched for a bit. But very soon, it was time to catch the tube back to Heathrow.
In the station waiting for the train, we met a man from India who was just beginning his journey all over Europe until he made his way back to his home country. He spoke very good English and was excellent conversation both in the station and on the train, itself. We talked about our children, our cultures, our political views... It was interesting.
Back in the airport, we had a couple hours to kill. I wanted to make sure we had plenty of time just in case there were any security issues or other unforeseen events. Inside the airport and near our gate, there was this little restaurant that we decided to eat in. They served Bass on Nitrogen which was delicious. In fact, I had a beer there on our way to Germany a week earlier. Anyway, since I really wanted to have English Fish and Chips, I was very pleased to find these on the menu. It was heavenly! The greatest part was that I discovered "mushy peas." WOW! They were fantastic and taste4d nothing like the canned or even fresh peas we have here. They were large, bright green and just as the name implies: mushy.
We ate, paid our tab, and headed to the gate. After about half hour, we were able to board the 747 that would take us directly back to Phoenix. The plane was not packed but was not particularly empty, either. My wife and I had 2 seats in a row of 3 and after several minutes, no one had claimed the other seat in our row. We started to get a little excited, thinking that perhaps we would have this space to ourselves for the whole 10.5 hour flight.
One particular woman was making her way toward us and we thought "damn!" but no. She passed us and we both breathed a sigh of relief. But then she came back. Passed us again. Over and over she passed us heading in both directions. Finally, she was shown to her seat by an attendant. Yep. She sat with us. She was a very petite woman who was probably in her mid-40's. She absolutely smelled like a French whore. My goodness! Her perfume was so overwhelming that I just wanted to gag. Her make-up was caked on her skin which looked like leather. Literally. Once we took off, she ordered wine after wine after wine. In French! no kidding. Maybe she was a French Whore. Anyway... for 10 hours and after several wines, she never got up once. WTF?
After those 10.5 hours, we were home. It was a long flight. We were tired, I was grumpy... you know how it goes. It was May 31st in Phoenix so it was hot. We got a ride back to my car and made the trip back to our house. It was over.
What a great time. I had been to Europe as a young man in the Marines but not like this. When I was younger, I had to go out with a "liberty buddy," I had to be back on ship at a certain time, etc. This time, I was with my wife...my life-partner. We were totally immersed in the culture. We had to learn together and live together for 24 hours a day that week. We saw human atrocities. We laughed at things we saw. We drove on the autobahn. We visited a castle. It was simply amazing.
If you've read all of these, thank you for taking time out of your lives to read about mine.
