Walking to Westminster...U.K. Trip Day 4c

We crossed Westminster Bridge and left the Thames behind, making our way to Westminster Square, peeking through fences, into parking lots and viewing other utilitarian points of interest. I really did this. I wanted to see regular life in this magical town. I wanted to see people parking cars and changing light bulbs, sweeping the floor and pulling the weeds. I can't really explain why I wanted to see what went on behind the scenes of what we were supposed to see. I guess I just wanted to see real life.

Anyway, I did see some real life as we passed the Parliament building and a few other random places as we made our way to the church of St. Margaret, which stands in the shadows of both the House of Parliament and Westminster Abbey.  Sir Walter Raleigh, among others, is buried here. Sir Walter Raleigh!  The building was built in 1523, a fact which my mind had a hard time comprehending. The church itself was established in the late 11th century. That is like, the Middle Ages, the Norman invasion, William the Conqueror, the Crusades. I didn't even try to to wrap my brain around how long ago that was.



Here it was also that we spied our second kilt-wearing dude of the day. I am well on the way to becoming a fan of bagpipes. Becoming a fan of kilts is a little bit farther down the road.


Our inaugural use of the London Pass was Westminster Abbey. True to promise, we were able to skip waiting in line and enter the Abbey.  It was breathtaking.  I absolutely have no words to describe it.                                                               
                                                                     

                                                                              The End

Looking for a London Pass, Lunch and Locks...U.K. Trip Day 4b

It took us a bit of time-and a bit of sightseeing along the way-to finally find an outlet to purchase our London pass at a souvenir shop near the London Eye  (a behemoth of a Ferris Wheel!) 

A London Pass is a discounted ticket, maybe you could call it an admission permit, to as many London attraction as you can possibly fit in, for as many days as you decide to purchase. It also includes other little perks such as free souvenirs, half-price tea parties, and exclusive front-of-the-line rights at many London attractions.






Our first destination (after an early lunch, that is) (we never missed a meal and we usually had snacks once or twice a day) (thanks to Sara) (and I had a tendency to photograph everything we ate) (this might have been disconcerting to my traveling companions) (but no more disconcerting than this paragraph with all these parentheses, probably) As I was saying, our first destination was Westminster Abbey, but to get there, we had to cross Westminster Bridge and pass under the shadow of Big Ben and Parliament.

 

                                                  Rachel, in her cute coat and accessories.
                                The wardrobe planning worked out nicely for her, don't you agree?

As we were crossing over the Thames we saw locks attached to Westminster Bridge.Turns out these padlocks have a romantic purpose. The deal is, you and your true-love-wannabe get your names engraved on a padlock or, if you are too cheap to spring for an engraving, you can just use a sharpie. The next step is to attach the padlock to the bridge, all the while looking over your shoulder to be certain you are not being observed by a bobby, who aren't always keen on the practice.  After you have locked your Sclage or Master Lock to the bridge, you must toss the key into the water which will therefore secure for you true and everlasting love. Apparently, the theory behind this quaint little custom is that by doing so,  it will forever lock your love to each other. However, there is no word as to whether or not it will work with a combination lock (no key to toss into the Thames) so, just to be safe, you probably ought to use a padlock.  Which you can buy at many locations on either side of the bridge. (probably) (I am not actually sure about that)

Notice the couple walking nonchalantly past the bobbies as they make their way to the bridge. The couple studiously avoids making
eye contact with the bobbies and the bobbies are just as intently
pretending to be involved in a serious discussion of some import, as they avoid speculation on whether or not the chap's backpack has a padlock inside.

                                       Watercraft on the river near the Millennium Bridge

This was not the first guy we saw in a kilt nor was it to be the last. (we are really going to have to go to Scotland) 
The first guy we saw was on a bus, in a kilt and a suit jacket. He did not have bag pipes. Although he did have a briefcase. Rachel tried to surreptitiously get a picture of him, pretending to take a picture of me with him conveniently in the background.

The next guy in a kilt was at St. Margaret's church, our very next stop. (but I am getting ahead of myself here)

Happy Birthday in London! U.K. Trip Day 4a

 Less than two months ago, Rachel and I began talking about spending my birthday together in London. This was the day it came true!  This trip had truly become the dream I didn't even know I had!  

Happy birthday, Mom! The day began with the gift I never wanted to get. A guy in Speedos invading the girl's bathroom. Yes, I was actually in the correct bathroom. Why do you ask? Oh. Right. Well, I guess I deserved it then after my blunder  yesterday. I wanted to go European, just not that European. I am pretty sure he knew he was in the wrong bathroom because he came in with a female. So he knew that either he or she was in the wrong bathroom. They came with their toothbrushes. (a question for you:  who in America brushes their teeth in a public restroom in their Speedos? Just a little food for thought)

And while we are on the subject of bathrooms, I feel compelled to mention that this hostel did not provide towels. Well, one could rent a towel for 5 pounds, as I recall. However, not one of us girls was desperate enough to spend that much money on a piece of loopy fabric. The way I saw it, there were several options available to us after a shower: shake off as best one could, get dressed without actually drying off, use the top sheet from the bed, use clean clothes or any combination of the above. I am just guessing here, really. I didn't ask at the time. And I am not about to admit which one I was. Although I will admit to having a slightly damp sheet that night. And slightly damp clothes that day.

                                                Modern Art       interior hall     Restup of London

                                                                  

                                         Modern Chandelier    Common Room     Restup of London

 

                                                        Antiquated Stairs     Restup of London

 

We had been having some issues with purses on this trip. Heather's purse had broken in Spain before they met up with us so she bought a bright blue purse. Very bright, very blue. Her purse was easy to spot in a crowd even if she wasn't. Sara's purse broke so I called into play the knots I had learned in boy scouts and securely tied the strap back on with paracord. Rachel's purse was also about to break so I reinforced it by stitching it together with the sewing kit I had, because as an honorary boy scout, I endeavor to always be prepared.  Later on in the week, my purse broke when the zipper pull got pulled right off. So between us, Rachel and I got that little sucker back where he belonged. And thus, all of our purse issues were solved, one way or another.

And it was time to begin our day!

We Finally Find the Hostel...U.K. Trip Day 3b

 After emerging from the underground and reuniting with my travel companions, it was time for the last leg of the day's journey...the trek to find our hostel, Restup of London. http://www.booking.com/hotel/gb/restup-london.en-us.html?aid=330631;label=msn-j2KKa2hRvozUJM8SL95Ygw-1395893035;sid=d22818f2b6ae8eeb505adc39f35849bd;dcid=1;checkin=2014-06-20;checkout=2014-06-21;ucfs=1;group_adults=4;group_children=0;group_rooms=42355203_81940658_0_0_4_0_0;srfid=e06385d215a1ae1caef632adebb92ae9a378fe92X1#map_opened   

               
After a couple of false starts, we found the right street and trudged down the avenue. Muscles burning and complaining we made our way down the road, after asking someone who clearly didn't know where the hostel was and hardly even knew what street he was on. I really don't know what his problem was. Perhaps he knew about the connection between elephants and castles. We finally, and happily, walked into the hostel, signed in and went to get settled in. I was supposed to act like I was 35 because one of the websites said the hostel was for people 18-35. But I soon spied a man with gray hair, obviously not 35, and indeed, saw families with members both older and younger than the advertised ages. So I relaxed and began to act my age.

              Our hostel, RestUp London.  Home, sweet home for our time in central London.

 Up to the top floor in an old elevator (it was certainly preferable to taking the stairs) (I think) with a sign that warned against more than 5 people in the elevator at a time. We decided to chance it, knowing that the weight of all our luggage was probably more than an average person. Well, we made it up there, found our room, opened the door and burst into laughter. It was a closet with 2 sets of bunkbeds, a window and a tiny sink, just the right size for a munchkin, a leprechaun or perhaps Paddington Bear. Or maybe not. The room was no longer than a bunk. The space between the beds was the width of the door. The people on the top bunk were probably going to suffer from claustrophobia. At least we were able to cram all our suitcases under the bed, well, just barely. This room was advertised as  "en suite for four people."
 

Then Rachel and I had a little adventure in the lavatory. Suffice it to say we didn't notice the sign that said it was the "male toilets" until we were on the way out. Happily for us, there were no occupants in there (just for the record, I am no stranger to walking into bathrooms for people of the opposite gender...it happened to me once back in the states in a McDonald's and I have taken especial care ever since then to make sure that it never happens again--until this day. And I really have no explanation or defense for that  blunder)

 Then we walked down the street to the Indian Food Cuisine/English Fish and Chips place. We could choose from Falafel, Tabouli or Fish and Chips. I may be exaggerating but not a lot. I had a huge piece of fish (with the skin on under the batter) (which kinda grossed me out) and too many chips (which were really just French fries.) The food was hearty, plentiful and tasty, although the ambiance of the place left much to be desired. To me, it was kind of like a bus stop with food. Not much bigger than that, anyway. However, we were too tired to walk any farther than the block or two that it took to get to this little hole-in-the-wall streetside eating joint.

 Then it was back to the hostel to do laundry, grab some internet and plan the next few days. The wifi for the internet only worked downstairs so we found this little nook, clearly intended for clients under the age of eighteen, and claimed it for our own. We were able to finalize some plans...


 Then back to our room to discuss our wardrobe options...

 

I got to utilize my mad paracord skills to put Sara's purse back together...

(honorary boy scout, didn't I tell you?)

 And we had some time to just hang out in our spacious "ensuite" room.

There might also have been some giggling while they tried (and succeeded) to fit three girls on a bunk. I am not quite sure...I was acting my age and therefore went to bed early.

Transportation Issues...U.K. Trip Day 3a

Day 3 – After some deliberation and research we decided an Oyster Card (a bus/subway pass that essentially you pay for upfront and then once you reach a certain predetermined amount the rest of your transportation that day is free) would be our best option for transportation so we took the bus to Hounslow West (you remember, the Grand Central Station of London) in order to buy our Oyster cards.

Back on the bus to McDonald’s for more free internet and a snack.

Then it was back to the hotel to check out - after we worked through the tiny little minibar issue. Yes, we had a minibar issue.We were charged $12 for 3 beverages that we didn’t consume. Well, we did move them from their designated spots and the sign did say not to move items but we certainly didn’t drink them and we put them right back where they belonged when we left. But...apparently there was a sensor in the fridge under the spot where each drink stood. Big Brother is alive and well in the U.K. at the Crowne Plaza Hotel...

Well, once we got that tiny little issue ironed out, we got back on the bus (using our newly purchased Oyster Pass) back to Hounslow Station (you know, Grand Central Station) and then onto the subway to Central London to find and check into our hostel. The tube stopped several times (possibly due to the damage from the storm the night before—which we had blissfully slept through)

We took the Piccadilly Circus line (which we were becoming very familiar with by now), changed to the Bakerloo Line with a final destination of Elephant and Castle (“mind the gap”) We lugged all of our luggage up the stairs. (we totally put the “lug” in luggage) We were helped--twice--by several young men who saw us struggling up the stairs and asked if we needed a hand, only to find that we had taken the wrong stairs and had to go back down all those stairs (there’s a reason they call the subway “the underground”) only to find we still couldn’t figure out how to get out of there. Finally I asked a guy “How do we get out of here?” He said “I’ll show you” and grabbed the biggest suitcase-again-which he had just gotten up the stairs, mind you, and took off, disappearing around the corner and back down the stairs. We had been using the "buddy system" (I am an honorary boy scout, a fact you will do well to remember because it will come up again) but as I watched the guy book it around the corner with Rachel's suitcase (which had about half my clothes in it as well) I threw away my own dictum and abandoned the girls, hoping they would be able to channel their inner frontier spirit, utilize their tracking skills, and follow our trail. It seems he went up the stairs, down another set of stairs around the corner, through a tunnel, back up another flight of stairs and there we were, the helpful young man, the huge suitcase and I, outside the Elephant and Castle tube station, breathing fresh air, right across the street from the Elephant and Castle pub, which we never did visit. Which was a shame because I was very curious to discover any and all connections that an elephant might have with a castle.


Ahem. Finally the girls caught up with Rachel's suitcase and I (the young man having left with my fervent thanks ringing in his ears.) Tired as we were, we still had to find New Kent Street, which, as luck would have it, was not the same as Old Kent Street, which was where we found ourselves when we emerged from the underground.
 

Winston Churchill

--A love for tradition has never weakened a nation, indeed it has strengthened nations in their hour of peril.


--All great things are simple, and many can be expressed in single words: freedom, justice, honor, duty, mercy, hope.


--Every day you make progress. Every step may be fruitful. Yet there will stretch out before you an ever-lengthening, ever-ascending, ever-improving path. You know you will never get to the end of the journey. But this, so far from discouraging, only adds to the joy and glory of the climb.



--The inherent vice of capitalism is the unequal sharing of blessings; the inherent vice of socialism is the equal sharing of miseries.


--We are stripped bare by the curse of plenty.


--The price of greatness is responsibility.


--Success consists of going from failure to failure without  loss of enthusiasm.


--We shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches,we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.


--Never, never, never give up.


--If you re going through hell, keep going.


--I am only the servant of my country and had I, at any moment, failed to express her unflinching resolve to fight and conquer, I should at once have been rightly cast aside.



--Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few.

A Storm Called St. Jude

While we spent the night in a soporific stupor brought on by missing most of a night's sleep and a day of giddiness spent exploring the heart of London on foot, a storm called St. Jude went on a rampage across the British Isles. Because we had better things to do than watch the boob tube, we didn't realize the seriousness of the storm we had slept through. We knew it had rained overnight but we were expecting that in England.  We may or may not have noticed a few tree branches blown down as we made our way to the bus stop and then to the subway station. But we did notice when the Tube stopped right in the middle of nowhere, for an interminable period of time, with no explanation, rhyme or reason. Thanks to modern technology and Al Gore, I now realize they were clearing trees and other debris off the tracks. Following are some links to the news stories we did not see at the time, due to our preoccupation with other important matters, including but not limited to, whether one should wear boots or flats, and which scarf coordinated best with which sweater. Personally, I had just one scarf and a pair of sneakers, which made it easier for me. I gazed at those girls in wonder...but did admire their fashion sense.

Links to the news stories about St. Jude:

http://www.bbc.com/news/uk-24699748


http://www.bbc.com/news/uk-24700001


http://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2013/oct/28/britain-storm-winds-death-flooding


Note:  I posted some bits (using the vernacular of the region) about this storm earlier in my blog but I think I got the days mixed up and this is actually more correct as to the sequence of events. And these may be different links than the ones I posted earlier. I don't know. I don't care. I actually just did it for for myself. Since this is my blog and all. I don't expect anybody to actually click on those links to find out about a storm that didn't impact them in the slightest. And anyway, St. Jude was just a little fish in a big ocean of storms. We Oklahomans know about big-fish storms...

Even More Pics of Day 2

                                             A northeastern  view of Westminster Abbey

 

I don't know who this statue is depicting but I sure hope his acrophobia never kicks in

                                                         Rachel, just feeling groovy.
                               (oh, where are John, Paul, George and Ringo when you need them????)

                                                                   Me and Ben

                                   London buildings--love the Union Jack waving in the breeze!
 

                                              Black eyed Susans beside St. James Pond

Apparently this is someone who everyone wanted to photograph.





This stature was so cool because you don't often see statues of ladies...

 Unless the lady is Queen Victoria...