What
follows is a daily log detailing the high and low lites of our trip to
England and Mallorxxchccka. (It's actually Majorca, off the coast of
Spain, but I've seen it spelled so many different ways I decided to
combine them all. Don't try to pronounce it; you'll injure your jaw!)
This
is Nancy's first trip to England. Needless to say she's very excited.
On the other hand I've been to England more times than William the
Conqueror, although it's been several years since my last triumphant
invasion. We're spending the first two days in London before we fly to
Malljxxorccja to join up with old friends Carol and Steve Davidson at
their island getaway (as one does).
Thursday, October 17
Nancy
and I were very relieved to learn that the government shutdown and debt
ceiling crises were over. For one thing, it looked like the air traffic
controllers in Atlanta would be on the job when we took off. For
another, Ted Cruz would likely be invisible for a few days. I don't know
what it is but when that guy smiles his snarky smile, I just want to
scream.
In
honor of the bi-partisan agreement, I called my Visa provider and tried
to increase my debt limit. My request was denied. The world's economy
didn't blink an eye.
We're
flying Delta nonstop (we hope!) from Atlanta to Heathrow. It's an all
night flight that gets us into London about 11 am. I've taken a similar
flight from Boston a number of times. The feeling you get when you step
off the plane in England the next morning can only be described
as...wretched...no, let's try putrid...no, that's not it...ahhh, got it:
FLU-LIKE!
Your
body craves sleep, but you can't give in to its demands. If you do, you
will wake up around midnight raring to go except you'll have nowhere to
go, so you'll sit watching BBC news for five hours until you fall
asleep the next morning and begin the process all over again. Eventually
you'll leave England for home and realize that you actually saw and did
nothing other than watch the telly. No Big Ben. No Buckingham
Palace. No warm beer at a rowdy pub. Just that perfect BBC accent
ringing in your head and bloodshot eyes staring back at you from the
mirror in your tiny bathroom. Not at all what the brochures or Rick
Steves promised.
However,
if you can manage to stay awake until, say, nine or ten pm, you'll beat
back the jet lag demons and make it to Harrod's in time for tea.
I
mentioned a tiny bathroom. Let me give full credit to the ingenious
photographers who handled the "studios2let" website photo array. From
looking at the pictures, one would have thought that for about $100 a
night, lucky Joel was renting an entire wing of Buckingham Palace. Such a
deal! In reality, with the clever use of digital tricks (Remember how
they made Frodo look so short and Gandalf so tall?), someone turned the
world's smallest studio apartment into an estate. When I say small, let
me just say that the Mayor of Munchkin City and the aforementioned
hobbit would have had a hard time staying out of each other's way in
this room.Of course this begs the question why were the mayor and Frodo
renting a room together? Hey, it's none of my business and it sure isn't
any of yours!
As
a result of the claustrophobic theme to the room, Nancy and I spent
every waking minute out of it.We came up with an ingenious plan.
Whenever we were stuck for something to do, instead of heading back to
the room, we'd find a pub and drink. You may be surprised to learn that
there is no shortage of pubs in London. We managed to visit almost all
of them. I believe the only ones we missed were "The Turnip and
Broccoli," a vegetarian pub on Baker Street, and "Ye Old
Obstructionist," once owned by the Priebus family. All of which proves
if you drink enough Stella Artois, even a tiny room will seem like
Versailles.
This was our day to explore the famous London sites. Armed with tickets to the Original Bus Tour, and following a breakfast of strong coffee and a weird bacony sandwich, we made our way to the bus stop. This is one of those deals where you get on and off the bus as often as you like; there's a taped narration to guide you through the various sites as well as a Thames river cruise thrown in for good measure. The double-decker bus features an open air top, perfect for the weather and temperatures we experienced on this mild fall day. Many of you have been to London so I won't bore you with all the details. A highlight for us was of course Harrod's where we wandered through the Harry Winston jewelry collection and headed straight for the cheeses. Such cheddars have not been seen this side of Cabot Farms in Vermont. And the room dedicated to fine chocolates from around the world was not to be believed. What a remarkable store.
The Thames river cruise was also quite spectacular as we made our way from Westminster to Tower Bridge. The narrator was delightfully cynical as he pointed out various interesting buildings. A man after my own heart. The brief period of rain was replaced by a beautiful sunny afternoon and the boat's removable roof slid back to reveal London on Thames in all its glory. What a delight!
After a fine Italian meal in the Bloomsbury section (as one does), we headed back to Mabel's Tavern for a nightcap. What a lovely day touring London. The Red Sox were scheduled to play Detroit in the sixth game of their memorable series; however, the game wouldn't begin until 1:00 am London time. I went to bed thinking that I would wake up at some point in the am and check the computer for an update. As luck would have it, I woke up at exactly the point that Detroit had loaded the bases with no one out. I immediately turned off the computer with the absolute certainty that the ONLY way the Red Sox could win is if I DON'T watch.
When I checked the computer the next morning, the screams of delight coming from our little Hobbit-hole could be heard from Mayfair to Chelsea to Southhampton.
Next: Mallorxxchcca
Ain't life grand?
J
